Of Reasons Why I Didn't Do Well For The O' Levels, or A Last Ditch Effort To Salvage Some Pride Part 1

Reason 1- The Paper Was Too Easy

Compared to the standard of the prelims, the O's paper was an insult to our capabilities. The disgustingly simple questions were often misleading in their transparency, causing the astute and intellectually superior to stumble in their surprise. I refused to lower myself to their(the exam's) level, hence the dismal results...



Reason 2- The Paper Was Marked In December In A Very Very Cold Place Called Cambridge In Winter

Consider this scenario...

An old, dishevelled hag of a woman sits at an equally antique(though not in the least ornate) table facing an endless heap of paper scrawled all over with writings of a nature similar to English, yet which cannot exactly be described as such. On her face is a constant scowl, deepening often as she expresses her dismay at the writings. The howl of the winter wind, easily audible over the cracked window panes, threatens to break her precipitous concentration. In the center of the room, a rusty heater heaves its last breath, then stops forever. The cold of winter takes its chances and invades the room, sweeping across the rotting carpets to our protagonist.

She gives up. She tears her eyes from the untidy scrawl which she had been trying to decipher for the past hour. Cursing under her breath(which was becoming cooler by the second), she stands up, moves over to the dying fireplace and tries in vain to revive the fire. At this moment, she feels utterly miserable(and, not to forget, cold), both at the mysterious, dying fireplace which materialized out of thin air and at the growing stack of exam papers waiting to be caressed by her own feathery script. She takes a quick glance across the empty room, then decides on a very obvious and logical course of action.

She gathers the stacks of papers in her crooked arms and made towards the fireplace with its rapidly cooling embers. In her current agonized state, she ignores the elegant penmanship peeking out amongst the roll of crude scratchings which only served to emphasis its delicate curves and sensuous disposition. Written solemnly at the top right corner of the paper in the same gracefully flowing script is the name "Ng Cheng Wei". On that same piece of parchment, an epic longs to be discovered. An audible sigh can be heard as the stack of paper, together with the hidden gem, was sacrificed to bring life to the disintegrating fire.

The fire roared into life, consuming without discrimination every piece of paper fed to it. In a moment, the flames appeared to retreat into itself, perhaps from the realization that it had squandered the only hope that a young, talented man in the Asian country of Singapore had. Back at the table, the hag dozes off, oblivious of the cardinal sin which she had just committed.

And that, is the much dramatised version of how I got a B3 for English. My idea for the A' Level GP exam title is now: "I Know What You Did Last, Last Winter".

More to come soon!

Oh and to all of you out there slogging through your tests/exams/homework, I have this to say to you- All I did today was sleep, eat, read, sleep and play!