Failing your finals (Rousse)

I met old university classmates KH and SB for a cup of tea in the Scotsman Hotel before they left Edinburgh.

SB confessed that – like me – she had not been attending the final year classes of our French degree.  I wasn’t as worried as her about the exams, however, because I believed that if DM could wing them on no study whatsoever, then so could I.

It was almost by accident that we discovered that one of the language papers was scheduled for the same day. Although late, SB and I were let into the examination hall and showed to our desks.

I was horrified when I saw that the exam format made no sense to me. The questions looked like puzzles where missing letters and words needed to be added to French phrases and then translated into English. Had I attended classes, I would have learnt the technique to complete the paper.

I was surely going to fail my finals. My only hope of graduating was to plead extenuating circumstances to Dr B and beg for a place at the resit diet in August.

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