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According to Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle, “No pressure, no diamonds”. In the
days leading up to the dreaded 2nd April, I was plagued by an all-consuming sense of peril,
an overwhelming feeling of self-doubt as the stress that surrounded the Entrance Examwas
a battlefield created in my mind. Simultaneously however, relief and excitement played
tug of war with these negative emotions as I began to realize that, finally, it was time to try
to jump this threatening obstacle, for better or for detrimentally worse. I had spent a year
preparing by solving countless word problems, IQ questions (my math tutor’s personal fa-
vorite), reading Othello and studying outdated idiom. At the time, it meant everything for
me to pass. I was a nervous wreck. Beneath it all, I just honestly wanted the anticipation
to end. I wanted it all to be over. Ironically, I had put most of the pressure to succeed on
myself; my parents supported my efforts but were never insistent upon me studying 24/7.
The night before “Judgment Day”, I was the stereotypical hysterical twelve-year-old before
a test. I felt as if I had the weight of the world on my shoulders—reflecting back on that
night I realize how much more stressful my finals are now at the English School. Ironically,
I was worried about passing a test that would ensure that I’d face a plethora of more chal-
lenging tests. That night I barely got any sleep; my mind was wracked by traumatizing night-
mares and I had visions of forgetting my name and pencil case the next morning.
I woke up in a blur, was wished good luck by my sister from home and then driven, like a
lamb to the slaughter by my parents to the School. They told me to simply do my best and
remember to use my time wisely; I then made my way, in a swarm of zealous future-class-
mates to room 18 (I’m still reminded of that crisp April morning 6th period every Wednes-
day, Week B, when I have Geography in said room), where I was met by some of my friends
who were also anxiously waiting for the whole ordeal to come to an end.
We hovered outside until the intimidating, albeit reassuring, exam invigilator sauntered
into the room and instructed us all to take our seats. I was number 2011 and my desk was
near the window. First was English. The allotted hour-and-a-half flew by at the speed of
light. Answering the questions and writing my essay I was confident, but pressed by the
ninety-minute period. On the break, surges of anxiety raced down my spine as my peers
discussed answers and the challenging math exam that would ensue.
I suppose walking in to the second exam I was maybe too confident, which contributed to
the terror that overcame me when I realized the extreme degree of difficulty of the long
paper I was expected to complete. Were those numbers supposed to make sense? I
emerged heartbroken, teary eyed; surely I had failed the paper. For the rest of the day, I
was convinced that a year of preparation and an infinite number of minutes preparing had
gone down the drain. In retrospect, I think I was most ashamed that I let the intimidating
paper throw me.
The results were announced four painstakingly long days later. While I waited to find out
if I passed or failed, I realized that whatever the result, I was relieved that I had persevered
and was at least through with preparations—having surely learned something in the
process.
In the grand scope of things, one could say that the three hours of exams were insignifi-
cant. But, I don’t think so. I believe that ultimately the experience made me a stronger,
more determined, more driven person; it taught me that hard work and determination
are rewarding and success is exhilarating.
Class of
2017
The Entrance
Exams 2011
by
Zoe Lindsay
Kassinis
Zoe Lindsay Kassinis - 4th from
left,
relaxes before end of year
exams with fellow 3rd formers
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