Wednesday, March 29, 2006


Tonight is Andrew's first big test for his cinema class. I really mean BIG - 300 questions. He's allowed a one-page legal-size sheet referred to as his "answer key" that lists titles of over 100 films. He can write any notes he needs for his test on this one page but he can't enlarge it or attach anything to it. He's been working on it for a couple weeks, and it's still not completely filled in. He's having test dreams and getting anxious about the test. He actually cares about the grade he gets in this class.

I know I haven't helped the test anxiety. I plan to take this class for fun in the future, so I'll have to do the same 300 question test. And I have to do a series of tests on my Scientology counselor training before I do my internship, and those things are all practical tools and not a bunch of name-date crap. I was always obsessed with getting decent grades, even if I had to cheat my way through 11th grade history class and buy Cliffs Notes to fake my way through college literature classes where I did little more than crack the spines of the books.

For me, taking a test is about as pleasant as the trips I took to the dentist for extensive oral surgery when I was eight and nine years old. I'd get nauseous and I'd ask my mom to take a different route to the dentist each time to try to take my mind off it. I was so anxious I made her pay for laughing gas for me every single visit (excluding cleanings). It seemed to take the edge off.

I wonder if I can hook Andrew up with some laughing gas before his test tonight, just to be sure it still works before I have to face my own tests.

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