A Boy: A Phone

The following story is fully hypothetical for two reasons. One that one of you kids is probably a mega rat and will probably end up ratting me out and I reckon one of my teachers reads this.

Now when you sit national exams you’re not meant to bring in a phone, simple enough, it stops kids cheating and if it goes off during the exam then it disrupts everyone’s flow. Punishments are put in to ensure that people don’t break this rule, in the case of the Scottish Qualifications Authority you automatically fail the exam you are currently in and your other test scores are place in jeapordy.

See I’m not a dumb kid, I’m just a little forgetful. Maths exams are two parters, the non-calculator paper, wait 20 minutes outside to bitch about maths teachers and try and fit in revision and then back in for the calculator bit. All the way through the first part I’d been thinking about the Adidas Ultraboost shoes because that sneak game dope and also you get absurd time to finish the paper. I pull my phone out the bag and type in the search before I forget all about it, as always I then drop my phone into my blazer pocket. We get called in and I highfive a few friends, slap the doorway as I walk in (a new tradition I’ve decided) and laugh because I did something totally stupid.

40 minutes in and I finish (a 90 minute paper), I’d tried pacing myself but oh well, I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet and take out a card to use it as a straight edge (paradoxically I have no money for a ruler yet posses a debit card), I feel something, metallic and squared. My phone I’ve brought my bloody phone into the exam hall.

My first instinct because I’m a little boyscout at heart is to put my hand up and ask the nice old lady to take my phone away. I consider, she would find it weird that I decide to hand it in now, halfway in at the start, it would be logged and I’d perhaps be accused of cheating anyway. If I did this then my phone would remain in pocket and I’d run the chance of being caught – but then again who would randomly text me out of the blue right? Plus my phones on silent, right?

I start sweating bullets. I can’t keep it, so what do I do? Dump it. I’ll go to the bathroom and leave it somewhere and retrieve it after the exam. I ask to go to the toilet, 40 minutes in so everyone now thinks I have a peanut bladder. I run downstairs and lift up the top of the toilet thing that stores the water, I’ve seen drug dealer hide cocaine up there, a phone in this situation is more incriminating but it will do. I reach into my trouser pocket. Shit. It’s in my blazer pocket. I slide the grate back on, do a pee and sulk back into the exam ahl after chatting a little to the nice old lady (I had an hour to go and had nothing to do, plus the least I could do was get something postivie from this experience)

The next half hour is pretty bad, I don’t do anything with my paper, I don’t look over. I just draw funny doodles on paper and almost die from a silent coughing fit because I don’t want to cause a scene and have no water.

The test ends and I spring downstairs wary to take my phone out until I’ve cleared the exam hall because some invigilator could easily piece together that me taking a phone out of my pocket straight after the exam means I had it during the exam (they’re old, not senile)

Two new texts. A friend had decided to text me wishing me luck, during my exam. I could’ve failed every single one of my exams this year if my phone hadn’t been on silent or if it vibrated against a chair. Once more lady luck has prevailed and I go play frisbee like a dog for the next hour in order to lose my anxiety. That (hypothetical) story was how I spent my day today.

 

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