Time-warp tests

Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of having to invigilate a test or exam in their lifetime can attest to this simple truth; it’s not fun. Tests seem to alter the space-time continuum, drawing time out, extending it beyond what is normally possible. It’s much like deadlines, which compress time into smaller and smaller bits, but it works in the opposite way.


Anyone who has ever invigilated a test will also tell you that as an invigilator you need something to occupy your mind while doing this job. If you don’t, the time-warping effect of the test is exacerbated tenfold. If you are smart, you take a book to read, or some marking to do from the previous time that you invigilated. But if you are like me, you only realise you are supposed to be invigilating about two minutes before the test starts and thus fail in the forward-planning department and end up stuck, pacing the rows of students with nothing to occupy your time.

On Friday, I had to invigilate such a test. Unfortunately, true to form, I completely forgot about it and thus failed to take reading material with me. I had walked briskly across campus, strolling nonchalantly past the students who were waiting outside the test venue (as their lecturer, you must maintain your coolness at all times). Once inside the large building, I realised that the test hadn’t even been set out, never mind ready for the students to write. I also discovered that the class, being in excess of 400 students, would be writing in two consecutive sessions.

Once the test was set out, the first batch of students came in to write. Time took on the consistency of syrup and my mind began to strain at the growing emptiness inside. When invigilating, I find that I tend to become pathologically eagre to do mundane tasks; things like collecting unused transcripts, counting the number of absentees, estimating the ages of students, counting how many students pick their noses thinking nobody is watching all become of the utmost importance. Occasionally a student will put up their hand for an extra sheet or to request an escort to the bathroom and your mind rejoices at the opportunity to do something.

After the first batch of students wrote and had been released, the second lot filed into their places and began to worry for my mental health. I still had another hour of waiting before my invigilating duties would come to an end. As the second lot started writing, time, having given a brief respite and returning to normal speed, resumed it’s passage at the speed of snot. I too resumed my seemingly critical tasks. It was during one such task, drifting down one of the aisles between desks, that I noticed something odd.

The test venue is a large hall, built to resemble an aircraft hanger. Whether this was intentional or merely my own perception, I cannot say. But one wall of the building is made mostly of one-way glass. Pacing inside the hall, I looked through the one-way glass to see a pair of girls outside, apparently in the throws of some sort of synchronised seizure or demonic possession. As I got closer to the window, I realised that the pair were actually practicing their synchronised dance moves, using the reflection off the glass to aid them.

While this in itself was amusing, what made it so much worse was the fact that the pair were, I assume, blissfully ignorant to the fact that there were over 200 students sitting inside the room, able to see them. At one stage one of the writing students stopped her test and watched over her shoulder for a good 5 min as the duo gyrated and stamped around outside. I too watched them as they flailed around, occasionally bursting into fits of laughter when one appeared to fail at twitching at the right time.

The responsibility of watching the students drew my mind back to the writing masses. Suddenly, a shriek was herd and I turned back to see what had happened. As I turned, it became clear that the pair outside were the noise. As I watched, the pair tore around the parking lot outside apparently being pursued by something small and white. I looked closer and realised that they were being chased around by a Maltese poodle and that the dog was determined to take them down, no matter the cost. One friend broke away, successfully evading the pooch while the second continued her rampage of shrieking. Eventually, she stopped, apparently exhausted from all the running and screaming, and the dog stopped to. The pair caught their breath and then resumed their chase.

Unfortunately, the test time was nearly up and I had to tear myself away from this very amusing episode. However, I think this has to have been one of the most exciting test invigilations I’ve ever done! It was awesome!

Well, that was a complete waste of time!

After a good 7 hours, I've finally finished marking the first batch of my medic's practical exams. And I'm not-so-proud to announce that if a third of them pass, it'll be a miracle! It's SO depressing when you mark and realise that all those hours that you spent typing up notes, preparing lectures, giving lectures, preparing practicals and supervising practicals were all for naught. Nothing has sunken in...

It's quite amazing how little understanding of the world they have! For example, my friend Athena, who has not studied biology at all and considers her knowledge of biology limited, appears to have a better grasp of the anatomy of a rat than the average medical student who dissected the wretched creatures for a whole THREE WEEKS!!!

What also leaves me completely speechless is there inability to perform relatively simplistic and straight-forward tasks, like read the instructions on their exam paper. The number of students that completely ignore the instructions and write what they feel the question should be asking is scary to say the least.

Prime example: One of the questions asked them to plot a line graph of a set of mass-specific metabolic rates (basically how much energy used for every gram of body mass in a given time) against their corresponding mass values. What do I get?

A million graphs of mass-specific metabolic rate plotted against species, or mass against species!!! Every possible combination except the one they were ASKED for!!!

(In case you were wondering, I'm a little frustrated and despairing at the moment. I think I'll go home and it'll all be okay in the morning...)

All in the name of science...

Every two years, our department runs an undergraduate course on Reproductive Biology (coincidentally, the name of the course!). Students in general hate the course as the majority of it focuses on the reproduction of plants and fungi, but a small section of it relates to reproduction in animals. For this particular section, the amount of giggling and crude jokes that are made during the lectures of the students is, unsurprisingly, high.

For this section of the course, the practical that the students have to do is rather fun. No...it's not what you are thinking...but is instead an examination of the role of perfume in mate selection. It requires that the blindfolded students smell a selection of perfumes on male and female 'models' and state what they think of the perfumes. This year, Luke and Leia were the smell models.

For those that don't know me, I am closer to an ape than most people. In short, I have rather hairy forearms and this complicates matters when the students are not supposed to be able to distinguish the male and female models (shoving your nose into a hairy arm does kinda give away the sex of the model...). So, the solution?

SHAVING!!!

So, both Leia and I had to shave our arms for science! It was actually a fascinating experience! My arms are surprisingly smooth and I've discovered a whole bunch of scars that I had no idea I had, not to mention the shaving techniques that I learned which I can apply when and if I decide to do cycling competitively!

Here are the pics:

The shaving process at work: By shaving in one direction and then pushing the razor backward, it cleans the razor! Nifty hey?! :D

The process at work...Thank goodness we have sinks in the lab. The bathrooms would have been awkward to have to keep explaining to people what I was doing...

Before and After! Great insulation and comforting fluffiness converts to silky smooth and a map of past traumas!

10 things about me

I've been tagged by Helen for this one. It requires that I list 10 random things about myself and then pass on the task to three others. So, Athena, Tom and Hanna, you're next!

1. I love chocolate, but hate chocolate-flavoured foods. Having said that, I'll never turn down a decently sized (read: enormous) slice of black forest cake.
2. I write and produce my own music in my spare time. I might even post some on this here blog some time!
3. I can speak three languages, which isn't all that much in my circle of friends, but I think it's quite nifty!
4. I can't drink tequila. I just can't...bad experience.
5. I taught medic students this year, and now I honestly fear for the fate of our species. How can you possibly be that thick?!
6. I really want to visit the USA! I don't really know why, I just do. Arizona looks amazing and all the national forests look stunning! Also, if Universal Studios and Disneyland are anything like EuroDisney, I am SOLD!
7. I did a personality test recently and found out that I am apparently abnormally expedient. I then had to go look up the word in a dictionary...
8. I am considerably more reclusive than people think. I just force myself to be social to compensate.
9. Despite having studied my butt off for the last 18 years, I plan to find myself a simple menial job once I get my PhD.
10. I love dinosaurs! I've been fascinated by them ever since I was a little kid and for some reason, the obsession has persisted. Which reminds me...I need to bring my dinosaur to decorate my desk at varsity...

A fantastic weekend!

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a great deal of marking to do...

Thus, I have no life whatsoever and will spend my ENTIRE weekend, wading through the drivel that students hand in and expect to be praised for. I can't wait!

In addition, I have to somehow find time to work on some music, sort out my accommodation in Paris for August (YAY!!!) and my degree (note that it is last on the 'To Do' list...). I have to confess that there are a million thing I'd much rather be doing this weekend! Wouldn't you rather be here this weekend:

Sodwana Bay - Diving!

Or here:A frozen lake I visited when in Germany - Scooting around on the ice!

Or, perhaps, here:

Suikerboschfontein - the most amazing hike!

I'm enjoying this WAY too much!

For those of you who have never had the fortune (whether good or bad, depends on your outlook) to teach students at any stage, one of the features of the job which can be rather painful is marking. One's responses to students work can range from blinding rage to hysterical laughter. It is the latter that has brought me to write this post.

Over the last two months, I took on my first lecturing job ever. It's been great! I've really enjoyed it immensely! It's fantastic to be able to teach people about something that they've never done or heard of before, and to see them getting excited about what you tell them makes a world of difference!

However, it is when the marking starts that you begin to wonder, 'Are they really this stupid, or am I just a really bad lecturer...?'. Within the last week, I've had to invigilate two exams and I am now in the course of marking both lots. And, because of all the stuff I've read in their exams, I, along with a couple of friends, have decided to start a sister-blog where I shall publish the best of the stupid stuff students write. It is...

Scary things students *think* they know...

I've been told I enjoy the marking way too much and must learn to appreciate the mundane nature of the job...

Well, that's 10 hours you'll never get back...

It's been one of those days. The kind where you end up doing loads of admin but feel that you have achieved absolutely nothing all day. I've been doing statistics for undergraduate students all day, which has been a pain. Mostly because they have no idea what's going on but insist on asking about the most arbitrary points in the hope that I will somehow think that they have a clue.

Now, ask anyone, my stats knowledge is not amazing, but I do know a few things. That's why I got so ticked off with one pair of sibling students that came, with the rest of their group, to sort out their stats. In all fairness, the one sibling had some common sense, so my frustration wasn't directed at them both, only the dumb one...

She kept trying to come up with 'practical' (read: lazy-ass) solutions to her stats in an effort to have to do less work. She also kept asking really stupid questions like, 'When you say we should make a bar graph with the averages for each variable plotted according to the times they were sampled, what do you mean?', to which I would answer with, 'Well, basically plot a bar graph with the averages for each variable plotted according to the times they were sampled...'

And, to add to the unbelievably annoying nature of the individual, she has a lip-ring. Now, I personally am not against the idea of lip piercings (Quite the opposite! I wanted to get one for myself!), and the design of her ring is simple and silver, but somehow, it just makes this individual SO much mor obnoxious and annoying! It's amazing!

So, having done the stats and a little admin, I'm sitting at my desk, hoping that somehow, just for today, time will speed up and the end of the day will suddenly be upon me, forcing me home...

Off to youtube then to be unproductive!

Another Saturday, another Matric dance...

For those of my readers who are not South Africans, nor do they have or have had any contact with a South African there are some things that one must know about our culture. Apart from having words which have no other equivalent in any other language, one must understand that when one is in their final year of high school (termed 'matric'), one of the ways in which one is permitted to celebrate the finality of the year is through a matric dance. Basically the same as a prom, or a farewell dance for the final year, this is an event which all South African youths must enjoy/endure (depending on your stance) as a rite of passage into the final exams and eventually, the rest of your life. I am one of those that endured.

My cynical view of the event is purely to be blamed on women. For reasons which, after years of contemplation, are only beginning to become apparent to me (and of course through various explanations from the women in my life - thanks guys!) women tend to become possessed by 'the spirit of the matric dance'. This basically means that, much like most things female, logic gets tossed out of the window, along with a sense of rationality and they become hyper-sensitive, obsessive lunatics who place the event on a pedestal which would make the colossus look like a Lego man. They get themselves so hyped up about this evening and spend thousands (if they have any say in the matter) of their parents monies on clothes, hair and make-up, only to realise, halfway through the evening that they really can't dance in stilettos and that the pain from their feet is in fact very real. This is usually accompanied by much complaining to the partner...

So, being a person who cares about those who I surround myself with, I always feel that the event practically is designed to disappoint, of which I do not approve.

So, when I was invited to go to matric dance by someone from the zoo, I was not all that happy about the idea. The enormous age gap aside, I did agree to it, knowing that the person in question had been trying to find a date, but had failed to do so, for some time and was not very happy about the situation. And so, things went ahead and, as it happens, the dance itself was last night.

It has to have been one of the most eventful dances I've been to in a very long time. My date was pestered every two seconds by people screeching, 'Oh my God! You're in a dress!', as if they had expected her to arrive in scuba gear. She grew weary of this very quickly but the relentless classmates continued.

I also met Helen's cousin, who teaches at the school of my date. She also seemed to have heard of me long before I had even arrived (I assume through Helen or one of her parents) which was kind of freaky.

Then, there was the waitress who slipped on the floor next to me, fell, dislocated and fractured her knee and had to be taken away in an ambulance by paramedics. It was really terrible! The poor girl just lay on the floor, crying in agony and clutching her knee and there was nothing we could do! (It turned out that my date and half of her friends are first aid'ers so they all flocked to the scene, leaving the dates to stand around awkwardly).

There was also the usual matric dance cheek ache which is characteristic of having to be photographed by absolutely every human being you come into contact with during the course of the evening.

And finally, at one stage my date decided to take off her shoes because the pain was getting a bit much, and the whole thing would make dancing that much easier. As it turned out, this was not a good time for her to do so because she returned to the table moments later, having been stood on by some other girl in stilettos on the dancefloor and had a large sheet of skin removed from one of her toes. However, this didn't slow her down at all.

Overall, it was one of the best matric dances that I have ever attended, and I have attended a few (approx. 5). Which is why I have decided that I will end it all on a high note. No, suicide is not on the cards just yet, but I will no longer be attending matric dances. Also, the fact that I am old enough to be the teacher of the girls that are in matric at the moment, adds weight to this decision. So girls, I'm sorry to say, that I am retiring from the field of the matric dance. You will have to look elsewhere for partners, from now on...

Friends like these...

Lately I've not been really enjoying my life. There was a recent incident involving the school that I'm teaching at, at the moment, which put a dampner on things. It was mostly because I lost my temper at my class and, while it was incredibly satisfying to punish them after they made my lesson hell, it resulted in a parent phoning in to complain about me. It also hasn't helped that I've had the worst cold of my life over the last two weeks which just will not give up and makes my head feel like it is always about to explode at any second. But, this is not the focus of this post. This post is about friends and how they often surprise us in the most unexpected of ways.

Last night I went off to dinner with Helen, Duncan and Tom. We went to Soi (YAY!!) in Melville which is one of my favourite restaurants of all time (and space). I arrived, in my sniffly, not entirely cheerful state. I parked my car in the street, the corner of which, Soi is located on. As I stood up out of my vehicle, I thought it odd that I was not immediately accosted by a car guard coming to ensure that I knew he was going to keep an eye on my car. I brushed it off and went in search of the trio who were to spend the evening with me.

I was late. It was entirely my own fault. I'd thought that I couldn't go off and enjoy a dinner knowing that my mouses cage stank like it did. So just before leaving I decided to give it a change. I'm very glad I did now! But the point is that I was late and so I had to go and find them. I found them with ease (they were practically the only people in the place at the time) and we settled down to our dinner.

The evening was really great! We had such a ball and the cocktails were really good (something with kiwi and pineapple for anyone who is interested)! And, after some really crude and silly jokes about sugar sachets, we called it a night. Later, at home, I recieved a message from Tom saying that he had really enjoyed the evening, and it got me thinking.

I somehow always have this experience and every time I do, it seems like such a revelation, which is really stupid. I love my friends! They really lifted my spirits and I got home feeling great! I realised that I am really blessed with the people in my life that I have and I am really grateful for all of them and what they do and have shaped me into. So this post is dedicated to all of you. I want to thank you for being part of my life and for being who you are. There may be times that I want to kill some of you, and there will be times I'll want to kiss you, but through the good and the bad, I want you all to remember that I love you.

And this doesn't just apply to those who attended dinner on Saturday! ;)

So, a big up to all my peeps! You all is ROX!!!

Ode to the cleaning lady

I've been working at a private school for the last two weeks. I was filling in for another teacher who was unable to teach for that time due to other commitments that he had. So, I was asked if I would be interested in giving teaching a try.

While the teaching job itself was certainly an eye-opener, one of the things that most left an impression on me was a particular member of the cleaning staff, not only because I saw her daily and that we got along rather well, but more that she was just incredibly weird.

My introduction to this cleaning lady was at the end of my first day. I had met and taught my grade 9 and 10 classes, which had left me terrified, frazzled and outright miserable at the prospect of having to teach them for the next two weeks. The grade 10's are actually delightful kids who really engage with what goes on in the classroom, or at least, fake engaging very, very well. The grade 9's on the other hand left one wondering whether we've been wrong about hell being hot and that it was, in fact, really full of teenagers and that somehow, you had ended up in it. I decided that the best thing for it was to just collect all the things I'd need to take home to prepare for the lessons the next day.

The door of my classroom was ajar and it was just then that a dark, round face appeared about half way up the door. As I looked up, the face split in two with a large, white grin and the owner of the face spoke in a strange accent.

"Spring cleaning?"

It was a hard statement to interpret because, while it appeared to be just that, a statement, there was a hint of uncertainty in the voice, making it sound as if the person, while fully aware that they were supposed to be cleaning, wasn't entirely sure that it was a safe thing to be doing after all. It also left me a little flabbergasted as to the appropriate response. It was more because of the strange way it had been said but was also partly because I always think of 'spring cleaning' as being one of those things that is restricted to spring, not really something to be conducted willey-nilley whenever the fancy takes hold of one.

So I looked at the lady in the door, smiled and said, 'Okay, thanks.'

This seemed to be the correct response because the cleaning lady seemed thrilled that I had said that and, with the efficiency of someone who has been at the same job for the last 30 years of their life, came bustling in to start cleaning.

The first thing she did was walk around the room collecting small scraps of paper that the students had thrown onto the floor. Once those seemed to have been completely eliminated, she turned and scanned the room for a plug point. Once she had located a suitable point, she looked at me questioningly and said, 'Hoova?'

As a south African, I am not really used to vacuum cleaning being referred to as hoovering, so when she asked me, I was really lost. I stared at her in utter confusion for a split second but luckily, avoiding any notably embarrassing situations, my brain kicked into gear and I understood what it was that she had asked. I said that that would be fine and continued to pack up my belongings. In a matter of minutes, she unravelled a chord from the backpack-sized machine on her back, plugged it in, rushed around the room, sucking up all manner of dirt, and unplugged just as fast. Then, with a 'Thank-oo teesha', which soon became our way of saying goodbye, she was gone.

Each day, she would return in this manner to clean my classroom. At one point, I had a 2L carton of milk that I wasn't going to use, so I gave it to her, which appeared to have cemented her friendship to me. I was very happy to have her on my side, as one could imagine that cleaning staff who are not your friends could make life very difficult.

At some stage, I ran into her in one of the corridors. She began to rattle off at me in Zulu (or at least, what I assume to be Zulu), and given that I don't really understand it, not much was getting into my head. She seemed to notice this and began to gesture frantically while continuing to drown me in very rapid Zulu. From a combination of the tone of voice, the gestures and a good dollop of sheer luck I figured out that she was enquiring as to the whereabouts of the previous teacher who had been in the position that I was currently filling. I explained that she had left to work elsewhere and that I was now teaching instead of her. This, as with the milk, appeared to please her a great deal and after another, 'Okay! Thank-oo teesha!', she collected her vacuum-pack and waddled off down the corridor looking very pleased with herself. Later I would realise that this encounter would lead her to believe that I was, in fact, fluent in Zulu and understood a great deal more than I let on, which was, for me anyway, entirely untrue!

One of my favourite moments with her, which I think summed up the complete lack of communication between us very well was my last conversation with her before I left. I wanted to thank her for all her cleaning and to say goodbye. But before I got to say anything, she said, 'See-oo Monday?' I responded in the negative and explained that my time at the school was over and that I wouldn't be returning the next week. She appeared to think about this for a moment and then, slowly, smiled. I then thanked her again and said goodbye. Grinning, she said, 'Okay! See-oo monday, teesha?'

Feeling a little lost as to what to do, I simply confirmed that I'd see her on Monday and walked off to my classroom to pack up.