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On this particular day Bicester had a noticeably cruel
gleam in his eye. He stood in front of the blackboard
and surveyed the scene before him. It did not appear
to meet with his approval.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began. "I
have a surprise for you today."
Michael sensed trouble. A surprise? The last thing
he needed was a surprise. Bicester opened a folder and
produced a pile of sheets of paper. "Today we are
going to try a paper folding exercise," he explained,
mysteriously. "The ancient Japanese art of Origami.
Perhaps you are familiar with it. To work successfully
you will need a great deal of space, so please be so
kind as to put away all of your textbooks and notebooks,
and retain just one pencil. HB for preference."
The class obliged and Bicester began to distribute
one sheet of paper to each desk. The back was blank
but the paper was thin enough that Michael could see
traces of writing on the underside. Across the room
he noticed Lea talking to her neighbor. He could read
her lips. "Origami??!!"
"Do not turn over the paper," Bicester warned.
"It has instructions, and I want you all to have
an equal opportunity to peruse them."
The hair on Michael's neck began to stand on end. This
felt all wrong. This was not good. This was not good
at all. Bicester finished his tour around the room and
returned to his desk. He stood behind it and surveyed
his audience. "Very good. You may now turn over
the instructions."
Michael turned over his copy and read the single word
test at the top. Below it were a series of thirty questions.
"But Sir!" someone protested. "You didn't
tell us there was a test today. We haven't learned this
stuff!"
"But I have taught it!" Bicester replied,
somehow managing to sound sarcastic and hurt at the
same time. "Should you not have learned it?"
"We didn't have a chance to prepare!"
"That is why it is called a test," Bicester
suggested, in a tone that really didn't need to be quite
so appallingly patronizing. "Any further questions?"
"What about the paper folding?" said a boy
in the front row, clearly bewildered.
"Shut up!" Bicester explained.
Resistance was clearly futile. Michael, as always,
tried to make the best of the situation. He settled
back in his chair to read through the questions. He
was a master at taking tests. He did as little homework
as possible, and relied on good memory and natural intelligence,
but he believed firmly in procedure and that meant reading
every word of any exam he took, slowly and carefully,
before even picking up a pen.
It took about a minute to read the page. At the end
of that time Michael's mood was not, on the whole, buoyant.
He found it hard to imagine how he could scrape together
more than 40% of the marks on offer, and 40% was not
likely to be enough to count as a pass. Given a little
warning Michael could cram almost any subject and pass
with a safe margin. A test that they knew about was
fair enough. A surprise test like this was not. It was
underhand, pointless, vindictive, and a waste of time
for all concerned.
Mister Bicester would have to be made to suffer.
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