An exam to nowhere
After painstakingly waiting for four hours, 13 tired Toefl candidates were told that they could not give the exam.
KARACHI:
After painstakingly waiting for four hours, 13 tired Toefl candidates were told that they could not give the exam because of a “technical problem”.
I had a feeling something was not in place when I saw a man holding his head with one hand and gnawing at the wires with a pair of pliers with the other. He, clearly fretting, was clipping the wires together.
I tried not to think much, as I am guilty of being a jitters-addict, and hurriedly went up the narrow, dark staircase. Yes, it was August 14 which is not a regular working day and yes, it was early - but it was too dark, almost creepy.
The exam, scheduled for 10 am, had aspiring foreign exchange students lined up since 9:20 am. I, too, entered at 9:28, only to find out that there was no electricity. Then the sight of the man with the pliers flashed in front of me. I asked the man I thought was incharge, “No light?” He replied with the ‘it’s all good’ expression, “It’s only load shedding. The light will be back on by 10 [am].”
But, isn’t the exam at 10?
I did not say anything and just sat down in the narrow, dark aisle with only a little sunlight piercing through a window. The next half hour passed easily as the ‘management’ of the Khawaja Institute of Information and Technology, the test centre in question, was running to and fro. I overheard, “Can 15 computers and the air conditioner work together? But they have to. Kitne bachay hain? (how many children are there?) Phir AC na chalayein (Should we not switch the AC, then)?”
That’s when I started praying. And they were answered as the lights came back on.
They moved me to another ‘classroom’ - a tiny room which plastic desks squandered all over. I sat next to an old friend, Sumaiya. Both of us were there to take the Toefl for the Fulbright Master’s scholarships. We were shortlisted for the interview and were required to sit for the pre-requisite exam.
Talking to Sumaiya helped me vent out my anger and anxiety. Every time someone passed by, they would assure us, “10 more minutes”, after every 15 minutes.
When it was noon, we started making our agitation obvious. I think that is when the two-person management took the hint.
One by one, they took us to a computer lab for identification and started settling us in front of our designated computer screens.
When the administrator, one of the two-person management hit the start button, I noticed that all the text on my screen was upside-down. And the test application was not loading beyond seven per cent.
I started praying again. This time, more intensely.
The person next to me, whose text appeared normally on the screen, hit himself on the head. His system showed an error even after the test was successfully downloaded. I could see his screen and his expressions clearly as there were no cubicles dividing us and the computers were kept very close to each other. He had come from Hyderabad, especially for the exam.
That is when everyone started talking. In a test centre, especially while you’re in the testing room, normally you are not allowed to even whisper. But this was not a normal testing centre.
One girl, out of the 13, started her test. But no one cared about the poor girl and were busy chatting, cribbing and receiving text messages - their phones were not on silent mode.
All it took was one sentence to make everyone go quiet. “We’ll have to reschedule the exam. Is everyone okay with that?” asked one of the managers. Everyone was so quiet.
And then I, unfortunately being selfish and not thinking about the poor girl taking her exam, exclaimed, “No! I have a scholarship at stake.”
Sumaiya said, “We’ve already waited till 1 [pm]. We can wait a little longer.” So we waited again.
When it was 1:20 pm, I got up and made a noise. I don’t know which part of my conversation affected him, but the manager felt sorry for me. He set me up in a different ‘computer lab’, much to the envy of other people.
I sat down to start my test while others decided to reschedule. I could not afford to reschedule because I was already a little late in submitting my Toefl scores to Fulbright.
Finally happy, I started my test around 1:30 pm. But my happiness was extremely short-lived - the power was suspended at 2 pm. Load shedding this time.
I wanted to scream. I actually wanted to throw a fit. I wanted to take the computer screen and hit it on somebody’s head. That was the perfect time the manager chose to come in the room to say, “This is a sign. Iss hee mein koi behtari ho gi.”
I did not pray anymore.
The other manager came in the room, followed by Sumaiya and the 11 other students. We had no choice but to reschedule.
The manager announced that technical problems happen and according to standard operations and procedures, they would give us a code, allowing us to reschedule our Toefl tests without paying.
After another 30 minutes of waiting for the code, making panic phone calls to parents and snapping out of states of disbelief, we got our code. We also learnt that the testing centre would not give us another testing date. We had to call Malaysia and reschedule for whichever available date.
Two boys had an interview with universities next week for which Toefl was a pre-requisite and one was awaiting immigration.
Sumaiya summed it up brilliantly: “For some people, Toefl is difficult, for some it’s a piece of cake. For me, it was just a really bad joke.”
Published in The Express Tribune, August 15th, 2010.
After painstakingly waiting for four hours, 13 tired Toefl candidates were told that they could not give the exam because of a “technical problem”.
I had a feeling something was not in place when I saw a man holding his head with one hand and gnawing at the wires with a pair of pliers with the other. He, clearly fretting, was clipping the wires together.
I tried not to think much, as I am guilty of being a jitters-addict, and hurriedly went up the narrow, dark staircase. Yes, it was August 14 which is not a regular working day and yes, it was early - but it was too dark, almost creepy.
The exam, scheduled for 10 am, had aspiring foreign exchange students lined up since 9:20 am. I, too, entered at 9:28, only to find out that there was no electricity. Then the sight of the man with the pliers flashed in front of me. I asked the man I thought was incharge, “No light?” He replied with the ‘it’s all good’ expression, “It’s only load shedding. The light will be back on by 10 [am].”
But, isn’t the exam at 10?
I did not say anything and just sat down in the narrow, dark aisle with only a little sunlight piercing through a window. The next half hour passed easily as the ‘management’ of the Khawaja Institute of Information and Technology, the test centre in question, was running to and fro. I overheard, “Can 15 computers and the air conditioner work together? But they have to. Kitne bachay hain? (how many children are there?) Phir AC na chalayein (Should we not switch the AC, then)?”
That’s when I started praying. And they were answered as the lights came back on.
They moved me to another ‘classroom’ - a tiny room which plastic desks squandered all over. I sat next to an old friend, Sumaiya. Both of us were there to take the Toefl for the Fulbright Master’s scholarships. We were shortlisted for the interview and were required to sit for the pre-requisite exam.
Talking to Sumaiya helped me vent out my anger and anxiety. Every time someone passed by, they would assure us, “10 more minutes”, after every 15 minutes.
When it was noon, we started making our agitation obvious. I think that is when the two-person management took the hint.
One by one, they took us to a computer lab for identification and started settling us in front of our designated computer screens.
When the administrator, one of the two-person management hit the start button, I noticed that all the text on my screen was upside-down. And the test application was not loading beyond seven per cent.
I started praying again. This time, more intensely.
The person next to me, whose text appeared normally on the screen, hit himself on the head. His system showed an error even after the test was successfully downloaded. I could see his screen and his expressions clearly as there were no cubicles dividing us and the computers were kept very close to each other. He had come from Hyderabad, especially for the exam.
That is when everyone started talking. In a test centre, especially while you’re in the testing room, normally you are not allowed to even whisper. But this was not a normal testing centre.
One girl, out of the 13, started her test. But no one cared about the poor girl and were busy chatting, cribbing and receiving text messages - their phones were not on silent mode.
All it took was one sentence to make everyone go quiet. “We’ll have to reschedule the exam. Is everyone okay with that?” asked one of the managers. Everyone was so quiet.
And then I, unfortunately being selfish and not thinking about the poor girl taking her exam, exclaimed, “No! I have a scholarship at stake.”
Sumaiya said, “We’ve already waited till 1 [pm]. We can wait a little longer.” So we waited again.
When it was 1:20 pm, I got up and made a noise. I don’t know which part of my conversation affected him, but the manager felt sorry for me. He set me up in a different ‘computer lab’, much to the envy of other people.
I sat down to start my test while others decided to reschedule. I could not afford to reschedule because I was already a little late in submitting my Toefl scores to Fulbright.
Finally happy, I started my test around 1:30 pm. But my happiness was extremely short-lived - the power was suspended at 2 pm. Load shedding this time.
I wanted to scream. I actually wanted to throw a fit. I wanted to take the computer screen and hit it on somebody’s head. That was the perfect time the manager chose to come in the room to say, “This is a sign. Iss hee mein koi behtari ho gi.”
I did not pray anymore.
The other manager came in the room, followed by Sumaiya and the 11 other students. We had no choice but to reschedule.
The manager announced that technical problems happen and according to standard operations and procedures, they would give us a code, allowing us to reschedule our Toefl tests without paying.
After another 30 minutes of waiting for the code, making panic phone calls to parents and snapping out of states of disbelief, we got our code. We also learnt that the testing centre would not give us another testing date. We had to call Malaysia and reschedule for whichever available date.
Two boys had an interview with universities next week for which Toefl was a pre-requisite and one was awaiting immigration.
Sumaiya summed it up brilliantly: “For some people, Toefl is difficult, for some it’s a piece of cake. For me, it was just a really bad joke.”
Published in The Express Tribune, August 15th, 2010.