My heart took a plunge, my stomach twisted into a knot, my brain refused to function, my legs became numb, my hands turned cold at the touch of the HPI quiz 1 paper.
They'd finally given it back, and alas, I failed, by a mere 1 and a half marks. Again. Everybody around me were comparing results, exclaiming and swearing about their 25/30 marks.
I know, I should be used to it by now. I've been in Biomedical Science for over half a year, I should've gotten used to how kiasu the students are, the stress levels, the system and workload, but no, apparently not.
My hands grasped the thin paper, and then quietly slipped it under a pile of papers in my file. They worked quietly, quickly and expertly, as if having practised this move too many times. I guess they have.
At that very moment, I thought I was quite smart, asking for a blank piece of foolscap paper to copy the model answers as the teacher went through, so nobody would see my results. Bloody teacher. So much for a high-ranked lecturer, her attitude shows nothing. In fact, she's always been rather repulsive in character, at least, in the lecture hall. I should have known.
I knew all the correct answers. I did my work, I put all my effort into studying for her stupid quiz. And yet, I couldn't answer the questions. Why? They weren't clear. Had they asked a less twisted version of the question, I would've scored. Still, I didn't flare up. Perhaps it was my fault I didn't do well? I asked around; everybody I asked said they weren't sure what the questions were asking for either, because the questions were rather convoluted and twisted.
Still, I diligently took down the model answers, determined to improve, to get it right next time. I asked a few of my closer friends to accompany me to talk to the teacher after the lecture, they agreed.
After the lecture, I went up to the teacher while my friends sat at the seats. I was so sure I could convince her, because she did mention being puzzled at why so many students gave the correct answers for the wrong questions. The questions and answers didn't match, because nobody knew what exactly they were asking for, they just regurgitated, desperate to put something on the blank face of the paper. Some even left them blank. I mentioned all this to her, asking her very nicely, with a smile, if she could make the term-test questions slightly more straightforward. I'm afraid of being faced with the same Quiz 1 situation again, and it shall rain bloody hell if I fail it just because the questions were phrased unclearly. I don't deserve to fail.
Instead of agreeing to consider my request, even to consider it, she defended herself, asking what was so indirect about her questions, what was so confusing. She said that if she gave direct questions in the test, it could be sat by Primary 1 children, and that it's not University standard, blah blah. She simply, in other words, blamed my understanding of the subject and questions.
Bullshit.
I sacrificed so much to study for her damn Quiz. I started studying for her subject on the first day of school, when I got the notes. I sat outside D's church service to mug, I didn't get to watch any DVDs because I told myself that I had to study for her test. I even came to school 2 hours early on the quiz day itself, just so I could do some polishing-up.
I broke down in front of her.
I'm pretty sure she was rather unfeeling towards my crying. She just brushed it off, saying "you just have to work harder for the term test lor". I could barely believe what I was hearing. Not even an effort to reason, to compromise, to encourage. Was this really my lecturer, a qualified teacher? The one who says sarcastically, "I'm not going to waste time going through this. You all so smart right, go and read it yourself" when we have no idea what she's talking about and protest. We go to lecture to have an explanation of things we don't understand, but no, no explanation for people who don't understand, everybody should just fail it and go to hell.
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On a lighter note, my French listening and writing test went rather well. I know I got one or two questions wrong, but that was it. I'm not willing to look through my French book now, because what's the use of sulking over wrong answers right after a test? It's done.
I wish the world could be filled with people like Madame Phan.
