I remember it like it was yesterday. I’m twelve, maybe thirteen. I sit behind a desk with a handful of other students. The teacher holds in her hand a high stack of tests and starts passing them around the room, one by one. In a stern tone, she says, “Put all your personal belongings under your desk. Keep only your pencil out. You will have two hours to complete this test. Make sure to fill in your answers completely.”
My stomach starts to churn. The teacher eyes the clock on the wall. It glares at me with a threatening look. “Okay. And your time starts now.” The sound of papers rustling echoes throughout the room. I sweat nervously. There’s no way around it. I do not like taking tests.
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