I have this re-occurring dream. While not a full fledged nightmare, it’s something upsetting, and on more than one occasion it has brought me out of my sleep. Although the specifics are never the same, the dreams always involve feeling unprepared for some type of academic test or class presentation.
The anxiety I feel is nearly unbearable. Invariably I am of my present age; but some how find myself back at Union College (or some place at university level) or sometimes back at Hamden Hall (or some other secondary school), confronted with a room full of students who probably knew why they were there, even if I didn’t know why I was there.
Also in common in these dreams, is my sense that I could bluff, or luck my way thru whatever the assignment or test involved… even though I knew that I was woefully lacking in preparation.
There are certain twists to these “school boy” excursions… like forgetting my mail box combination at Union, or not remembering football plays at Hamden Hall. I can assure you that these latter failings were not a problem at the time… although of being unprepared for academic assignments… I can say it happened. All too frequently.
Maybe these quasi-nightmares are a payback? That’s it.
I am paying my debt back for drawing a bowling pin on my exam for Mr. Osborn’s Geometry final. What did that have to do with Geometry? Absolutely nothing! Still I got a solid “B” for the course (actually I think it was an “A”; but pride won’t allow me to admit to that).
As bad as these dis-jointed visitations to my past are, the actual memories are just as bad… maybe more so. Particularly at Hamden Hall.
Major exams were twice a year. January and June. Canvas covered Taylor Gymnasium’s floor, where the whole of the Upper School took its exams, desks were placed far enough apart to make cheating from your neighbor impossible without the use of hand signals. There was a sense of drama… unusual quiet for that many students… several teachers monitoring their classes… several classes taking their exams at the same time.
I hated it.
Our work was done in those ubiquitous “blue books.” I hated those blue books… so innocent on the outside, so barren on the inside… so devoid of any character or sense of imagination. The bowling pin I drew for Mr. Osborn may have been the best thing that was put in a blue book.
But nothing at Hamden Hall would prepare me for the worst blue book experience of my life. It happened at Union… Erik Hansen’s 20th Century European History class (which he began with the Franco-Prussian War in 1870). Our Final Exam (1/3 of the course grade) was one question: “Trace Movements of the Left or Right in Europe in the Twentieth Century.” We were given unlimited time on the exam… and unlimited number of blue books. My two papers for the course were “A” and “B”; but I caught a “hook” for the Final.
It was one of three times that I can remember ever complaining about a grade. Once with Miss Stewart in 11th Grade English, once with Arnie Bittelman (the converted butcher) in Graphics Art my Sophomore year at Union… and with Erik Hansen.
To me there was a serious injustice. “Professor Hansen, we have just spent the Semester on this topic… I have read nearly 5,000 pages of subject material written by some of the best historians of our time {not to mention what I read for my papers}… how could I possibly cover it in an exam, regardless of the time you allowed or the number of blue books you provided?”
To which he replied, “James, the test was in your ability to take the material and distill it into its essence.”
Q.E.D. Maybe that’s why I am haunted by these damn dreams? I am not particularly good at “distilling.” I enjoy too much the leisurely stroll thru the woods… happy to be distracted by… by? By nearly anything. And in word written, or spoken, I am prone to ramble.
I don’t think I will ever be good at blue book stuff. I just wish the hell my mind wouldn’t keep bringing it to my attention all the time… I am declaring my dreams off limits for blue book issues (let’s see if that works).