The Risk

I was finishing an undergraduate certificate in public relations. Getting the exact courses I wanted was getting rather conflicting since I was also enrolled in a full time program at another institution. So I ended up in a class called - Introduction to Labor Relations - a subject for which I have no interest whatsoever. To make matters worst, the teacher was mortally boring. He would speak very, very slowly, enunciating every word in deep monotone without punctuation; it was like listening to one long senseless sentence without beginning or end. Worst still, he would stand absolutely motionless, reciting from memory the entire content of the manual without ever breathing or making eye contact. At first I attended diligently, then I started leaving after the first half and soon, I had much better things to do on Tuesday nights. I thought I’d be fine just reading the manual. Alas, the final exam caught me utterly unprepared.

The exam season has always been a very serious affair in that institution. The exams are held in the gym where hundreds of tables are lined up five feet apart. To avoid plagiarism each row writes a different exam. Therefore only the person sitting in front or behind me or two rows down is writing the same exam as mine. Two pens are allowed on the table. No matter what the circumstances, a student is not permitted to leave the table until 60 minutes have elapsed. It can be quite maddening to watch other people write and write and write, filling up pages when your own brain has frozen.

That’s what happened to me on that night. The exam paper was placed on the corner of my table waiting for the start buzzer. I was already hyperventilating by the time I turned the paper and realized that there was only one question: What is a risk? Eeeee? Eeeee!Eeeee… EeEeE... EEE@#@**@!!?

After 6o minutes, I got up, handed in my copy and left. The moment I stepped outside I puked in the snow bank by the gym door. I was pretty bummed out.

A week later, all the results were posted but mine. Next to my name was a note, the teacher wanted to see me. Doomsday! I was a nervous wreck by the time I reached his office. “Hello… you wanted to see me…?” He turned around and studied me for a while. “Ah! I was wondering who it was. Gutsy! I must admit, that was a hell of a risk! Here…” he handed me a copy of my exam paper. In the top right corner, in bright red felt pen: A+.

What is a risk? “This is a risk” had been my answer, followed by eight blank pages.