Exam Room Nostalgia [A Look Back on That Last Ever Exam in 2012]

Note from Sarah: this piece is more of a slower-paced, creative expression of a period of time that stands out to me when I reflect on the past. I’d love to hear your thoughts and feelings about this era if you lived it!

I checked my timetable for what felt like the fiftieth time to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. One o’clock, sports hall, seat G6, English Language GCSE. The final exam. Once this was over it was officially summer.

I stood up from the kitchen table, packing away the last of the revision sheets that were strewn in front of me. Nerves fluttered through my chest as I downed the last of a Monster Khaos, already beginning to regret the fact it had probably made me feel worse.

The walk to school was a quick one, given that I lived just around the corner from it. As I headed through the doors, I was greeted by a large group of my classmates. Everyone was sitting this exam so the sports hall would be full to the brim. The sound of everyone’s anxious chatter was deafening against the multiple “Quiet, exams in progress” signs that were dotted around the foyer.

As the clock approached five to the hour, we all lined up in the alphabetical order of our names – this was how the seats had originally been assigned. Transparent plastic pencil cases in hand, we filed into the sports hall for the final time.

I followed my usual tactic – complete the exam as quickly as possible to allow me plenty of time to check my answers. Once that was done, I could take the time to people watch until the test time ran out. While it was strictly prohibited to turn fully around, looking anywhere between left and right wouldn’t attract attention. With perhaps only 2 other rows of students to my right, the left side was where most people were situated, including some of my best friends.

I recall spotting one of my female friends several rows away. She was still reading over the passage of text in front of her, gnawing on the lid of her pen as she focused on the words. She’d told me she wanted to go into ‘something in the media’ one day. Knowing this, I felt the stress of her furrowed brow, her face evidence of the fight to squeeze as many marks out of the exam paper as possible. English Language was important for media-based jobs – or so they told us back then.

Before becoming too lost in thoughts about her fight to break into the media industry, someone else caught my eye. His head was laid ear down on the small desk he sat at, his eyes fixed on me. His mass of dark hair pooled onto the desk while one hand fidgeted with a piece of fringe that was trying to poke him in the eyes. As he realised I’d noticed him, a small smirk spread across his lips which he quickly extinguished as an invigilator walked by. Him and I, we went way back. Way back enough to feel the weight of knowing that, after this exam, I’d likely never see him again.

“You have five minutes remaining.” I gathered my thoughts, quietly stacking my exam papers together and placing my stationary back into the pencil case. In that moment, I allowed myself one final time to take everything in. Exams in sixth form wouldn’t be the same. There’d never be this many of us, in one place, having the same experience again. I traced my fingers gently over the graffiti on my desk. Feeling fly like a G6, good luck, Bethany is a slag 2k4… There’d been hundreds of people sat in this seat and there’d probably be hundreds more, each of them understanding the reference to the table number, G6, less and less as the years pass.

Before I knew it, the exam had ended and we were all filing out, frantically comparing answers we gave to specific parts of the paper. As we exited the school building, the summer sunshine lit our faces. A few headed out of the gates, never to look back while most of us remained congregated near the front steps. While results day and the odd dotted final school event would provide an occasion for seeing people again, it would never be quite like this moment. Final conversations swirled around summer plans, romances and ‘what will you do next year.’ Slowly, the crowd thinned out and I took it as my opportunity to leave. Placing one foot in front of the other, I once again descended into thought. I didn’t know what next year would be like and I didn’t know who would be by my side throughout it but, what I did know was that I never wanted to forget this feeling. The closing of a door to a much-loved window of time and the gentle creak of a new one opening, one where almost anything could be behind it.