Yes, that sticker says “Chief Invigilator.”
Possibly the best thing about academics at UCT, for me at least, has been the complete lack of tests—no quizzes, no midterms, just one cumulative, two-hour final. It’s not to be taken lightly, for in good British form, it usually comprises about half of your grade. But compared to the three-hour ordeals I’m used to back at home, this feels like winning in a walk.
Perhaps because the exam is so high-stakes in terms of grades (for those whose marks matter; I just have to pass), professors give you every possible chance to do well. In my four humanities classes, we were given between five and 14 topics, from which we only have to pick two or three questions to answer—doing the math, you only really have to study a fraction of the stuff covered. In the exam overview, professors often warned us to make sure we “answer the question,” and in one case cautioned against using “SMS speak” in our essays (r u joking? Lol).
Consolidation week (reading week to you, Columbians), consequently, has been gloriously low-key. The library has longer hours, but fewer people. Nobody camps out, eats dinner, covers their study space with sticky notes, or lines the table with empty cans of Red Bull. People go home at normal hours to have normal evenings with friends the night before exams. On the one hand, it all feels more healthy, more functional, like school is supposed to be. On the other, I miss the solidarity of shared misery, the sympathetic glances towards those still with tests to go, the unmitigated joy when everyone is finished. School has ended, it seems, with a whimper.
