Three Down, One to Go

Three questions to go, fifteen minutes left on the clock, grade on the line. I'm typing, I'm reading, I'm making shit up with frantic disregard for carpal tunnels then BAM . . . Prof. Tax walks in.

"Couple minutes left" I hear over the thrashing of keys and the pounding of hearts.

She leaves.

Moments later, a computer pop-up tells me I had enough. "You had enough" I inaudibly scream towards the pop-up as Prof. Tax walks back in . . . "you had enough."

I end my exam, I save.

"The handwriters are still panicking in the other room so you guys have 15 more minutes. If you've already closed out your exam, you can open it back up."

I summon computer God, Bill:

Me: "How do I open it back up?"
Bill: "You can't. Just open a new exam and set the time for 15 minutes."

Me: "What do I write in the new exam?"
Bill: "Answers."

"Bill, I don't need new answers" I wanted to yell, "I need to correct the things I just wrote. Don't you see Bill; I just put up the last second shot from half court only to realize there is 6 minutes left in the game. I don't need another half court shot, Bill. I need to take those answers in for a lay up."

Of course, reality being somewhat less poetic then this blog, I actually whispered something to the effect of, "In that case I'm fucked," thanked Bill for his efforts, then left class crying.