Finishing Exam Quotes

Well.. Is that all you've got?.. I hope not..cuz you haven't finished entertaining me yet.. -Gaara to Rock Lee during the Chunin preliminary

Lots of my dying patients say they grow in bounds and leaps, and finish all the unfinished business. But assisting a suicide is cheating them of these lessons, like taking a student out of school before final exams. That's not love, it's projecting your own unfinished business

By the time the average person finishes college, he or she will have taken over 2,600 tests, quizzes, and exams. The right answer approach becomes deeply ingrained in our thinking. This may be fine for some mathematical problems where there is in fact only one right answer. The difficulty is that most of life isn’t this way. Life is ambiguous; there are many right answers- all depending on what you’re looking for. But if you think there is only one right answer, then you’ll stop looking as soon as you find one.

Walter amused them with a story of one of his students who had been caught cheating; the boy wrote some formulas for algebraic equations on his hand, and then rested his cheek in the same hand, as he worked on the exam, only to finish with the inked answers stamped across his face.

For me, all those systematic Bureaucracies of traditional schools jaded me. For me, I still couldn’t understand why we have to have a factory style education for children living in the 21st century. Why hold them in place, asking them to read and repeat and giving them a number of tasks to finish? I still have no idea how exams and objective assessments could measure human behavior or intelligence. Is it some kind of barcoding human aptitude? Is it ethical anyway?

I added pieces the same way I’d constructed my body, from the inside out: boy-cut panties first (lacy), bra (sheer), stockings (thigh high), knee-length leather skirt (black), lime green midriff-baring shirt (polyester). David leaned against the wall and watched this striptease-in-reverse with fabulously expressive eyebrows slowly climbing toward heaven, I finished it off with a pair of strappy lime green three-inch heels, something from the Manolo Blahnik spring collection that I’d seen two months ago in Vogue. He looked me over, blinked behind the glasses, and asked, “You’re done?” I took offense, “Yeah. You with the fashion police?” “I don’t think I’d pass the entrance exam.” The eyebrows didn’t come down. “I never knew you were so…” “Fashionable?” “Not really the word I was thinking.” I struck a pose and looked at him from under my supernaturally lustrous eyelashes. “Come on, you know it’s sexy.” “And that’s sort of my point.

The task Gordan gave her was a truly daunting one: to develop the complete invariant theory for ternary forms of degree four. Whether Gordan had ever attempted this is hard to say, but one can safely say that Emmy Noether's work was the last word with regard to this problem. She was able to construct 331 associated covariants. After finishing this ambitious work and publishing it in Crelle, she passed her oral exam "summa cum laude", but later dismissed her dissertation as a piece of juvenalia (she once called it "dung").

few days ago, before his exams had finished and he had seen the vision Voldemort had planted in his mind, he would have given almost anything for the Wizarding world to know that he had been telling the truth, for them to believe that Voldemort was back and know that he was neither a liar nor mad. Now, however . . . He walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passersby behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking. . . . Perhaps the reason he wanted to be alone was because he had felt isolated from everybody since his talk with Dumbledore.

Kate is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu. Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she’d arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I’ve never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for and one essay to finish, and I’m supposed to be working this afternoon, but no—today I have to drive 165 miles to downtown Seattle in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc. As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our university, his time is extraordinarily precious—much more precious than mine—but he has granted Kate an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extracurricular activities.

When it passes us, the driver tips his cap our way, eying us as if he thinks we're up to no good-the kind of no good he might call the cops on. I wave to him and smile, wondering if I look as guilty as I feel. Better make this the quickest lesson in driving history. It's not like she needs to pass the state exam. If she can keep the car straight for ten seconds in a row, I've upheld my end of the deal. I turn off the ignition and look at her. "So, how are you and Toraf doing?" She cocks her head at me. "What does that have to do with driving?" Aside from delaying it? "Nothing," I say, shrugging. "Just wondering." She pulls down the visor and flips open the mirror. Using her index finger, she unsmudges the mascara Rachel put on her. "Not that it's your business, but we're fine. We were always fine." "He didn't seem to think so." She shoots me a look. "He can be oversensitive sometimes. I explained that to him." Oversensitive? No way. She's not getting off that easy. "He's a good kisser," I tell her, bracing myself. She turns in her seat, eyes narrowed to slits. "You might as well forget about that kiss, Emma. He's mine, and if you put your nasty Half-Breed lips on him again-" "Now who's being oversensitive?" I say, grinning. She does love him. "Switch places with me," she snarls. But I'm too happy for Toraf to return the animosity. Once she's in the driver's seat, her attitude changes. She bounces up and down like she's mattress shopping, getting so much air that she'd puncture the top if I hadn't put it down already. She reaches for the keys in the ignition. I grab her hand. "Nope. Buckle up first." It's almost cliché for her to roll her eyes now, but she does. When she's finished dramatizing the act of buckling her seat belt-complete with tugging on it to make sure it won't unclick-she turns to me in pouty expectation. I nod. She wrenches the key and the engine fires up. The distant look in her eyes makes me nervous. Or maybe it's the guilt swirling around in my stomach. Galen might not like this car, but it still feels like sacrilege to put the fate of a BMW in Rayna's novice hands. As she grips the gear stick so hard her knuckles turn white, I thank God this is an automatic. "D is for drive, right?" she says. "Yes. The right pedal is to go. The left pedal is to stop. You have to step on the left one to change into drive." "I know. I saw you do it." She mashes down on the brake, then throws us into drive. But we don't move. "Okay, now you'll want to step on the right pedal, which is the gas-" The tires start spinning-and so do we. Rayna stares at me wide-eyed and mouth ajar, which isn't a good thing since her hands are on the wheel. It occurs to me that she's screaming, but I can't hear her over my own screeching. The dust wall we've created whirls around us, blocking our view of the trees and the road and life as we knew it. "Take your foot off the right one!" I yell. We stop so hard my teeth feel rattled. "Are you trying to get us killed?" she howls, holding her hand to her cheek as if I've slapped her. Her eyes are wild and glassy; she just might cry. "Are you freaking kidding me? You're the one driving!

You look terrible,” was Ron’s greeting as he entered the room to wake Harry. “Not for long,” said Harry, yawning. They found Hermione downstairs in the kitchen. She was being served coffee and hot rolls by Kreacher and wearing the slightly manic expression that Harry associated with exam review. “Robes,” she said under her breath, acknowledging their presence with a nervous nod and continuing to poke around in her beaded bag, “Polyjuice Potion . . . Invisbility Cloak . . . Decoy Detonators . . . You should each take a couple just in case. . . . Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat, Extendable Ears . . .” They gulped down their breakfast, then set off upstairs, Kreacher bowing them out and promising to have a steak-and-kidney pie ready for them when they returned. “Bless him,” said Ron fondly, “and when you think I used to fantasize about cutting off his head and sticking it on the wall.” They made their way onto the front step with immense caution: They could see a couple of puffy-eyed Death Eaters watching the house from across the misty square. Hermione Disapparated with Ron first, then came back for Harry. After the usual brief spell of darkness and near suffocation, Harry found himself in the tiny alleyway where the first phase of their plan was scheduled to take place. It was as yet deserted, except for a couple of large bins; the first Ministry workers did not usually appear here until at least eight o’clock. “Right then,” said Hermione, checking her watch. “She ought to be here in about five minutes. When I’ve Stunned her—” “Hermione, we know,” said Ron sternly. “And I thought we were supposed to open the door before she got here?” Hermione squealed. “I nearly forgot! Stand back—” She pointed her wand at the padlocked and heavily graffitied fire door beside them, which burst open with a crash. The dark corridor behind it led, as they knew from their careful scouting trips, into an empty theater. Hermione pulled the door back toward her, to make it look as though it was still closed. “And now,” she said, turning back to face the other two in the alleyway, “we put on the Cloak again—” “—and we wait,” Ron finished, throwing it over Hermione’s head like a blanket over a birdcage and rolling his eyes at Harry.

The pause that followed was one she couldn’t interpret. Maybe he was pissed she was interfering? “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” “Do you do this with patients a lot?” “Yes,” she lied. “Havers know you’re checking his work?” “Did he even look at your veins?” Rehvenge’s laugh was low. “I would rather you had called for a different reason.” “I don’t understand,” she said tightly. “What? That someone might want to have something to do with you outside of work? You’re not blind. You’ve seen yourself in mirrors. And surely you know you’re smart, so it’s not all just pretty window dressing.” As far as she was concerned, he was speaking in a foreign language. “I don’t understand why you’re not taking care of yourself.” “Hmmm.” He laughed softly, and she felt the purr as well as heard it in her ear. “Oh…so maybe this is a pretense just so I can see you again.” “Look, the only reason I called was—” “Because you needed an excuse. You shut me down in the exam room, but really wanted to talk to me. So you called about my arm to get me on the phone. And now you have me.” That voice dropped even lower. “Do I get to pick what you do with me?” She stayed quiet. Until he said, “Hello?” “Are you finished? Or do you want to run around in circles a little longer, reading into what I’m doing here?” There was a beat of silence, and then he broke out in a rich baritone belly laugh. “I knew there was more than one reason I liked you.” -Ehlena & Rehv

Are you Hilary Westfield?” She sounded like she hoped it wasn’t the case. Hilary nodded. “Oh. Well, I’m Philomena. I have to show you to your room.” Hilary looked wildly at Miss Greyson. “I’m Miss Westfield’s governess,” Miss Greyson said, to Hilary’s relief. Maybe talking politely to people like Philomena was something you learned at Miss Pimm’s, or maybe getting past Philomena was a sort of entrance exam. “Is there any chance we could see Miss Pimm? We’re old acquaintances. I used to go to school here, you see.” Miss Greyson smiled for the second time that day—the world was getting stranger and stranger by the minute—but Philomena didn’t smile back. “I’m terribly sorry,” said Philomena, “but Miss Pimm doesn’t receive visitors. You can leave Miss Westfield with me, and the porter will collect Miss Westfield’s bags.” She raised her eyebrows as the carriage driver deposited the golden traveling trunk on the doorstep. “I hope you have another pair of stockings in there.” “I do.” Hilary met Philomena’s stare. “I have nineteen pairs, in fact. And a sword.” Miss Greyson groaned and put her hand to her forehead. “Excuse me?” said Philomena. “I’m afraid Miss Westfield is prone to fits of imagination,” Miss Greyson said quickly. Philomena’s eyebrows retreated. “I understand completely,” she said. “Well, you have nothing to worry about. Miss Pimm’s will cure her of that nasty habit soon enough. Now, Miss Westfield, please come along with me.” Hilary and Miss Greyson started to follow Philomena inside. “Only students and instructors are permitted inside the school building,” said Philomena to Miss Greyson. “With all the thefts breaking out in the kingdom these days, one really can’t be too careful. But you’re perfectly welcome to say your good-byes outside.” Miss Greyson agreed and knelt down in front of Hilary. “A sword?” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Miss Greyson.” “All I ask is that you take care not to carve up your classmates. If I were not a governess, however, I might mention that the lovely Philomena is in need of a haircut.” Hilary nearly laughed, but she suspected it might be against the rules to laugh on the grounds of Miss Pimm’s, so she gave Miss Greyson her most solemn nod instead. “Now,” said Miss Greyson, “you must promise to write. You must keep up with the news of the day and tell me all about it in your letters. And you’ll come and visit me in my bookshop at the end of the term, won’t you?” “Of course.” Hilary’s stomach was starting to feel very strange, and she didn’t trust herself to say more than a few words at a time. This couldn’t be right; pirates were hardly ever sentimental. Then again, neither was Miss Greyson. Yet here she was, leaning forward to hug Hilary, and Hilary found herself hugging Miss Greyson back. “Please don’t tell me to be a good little girl,” she said. Miss Greyson sniffed and stood up. “My dear,” she said, “I would never dream of it.” She gave Hilary’s canvas bag an affectionate pat, nodded politely to Philomena, and walked down the steps and through the gate, back to the waiting carriage. “Come along,” said Philomena, picking up the lightest of Hilary’s bags. “And please don’t dawdle. I have lessons to finish.” HILARY FOLLOWED PHILOMENA through a maze of dark stone walls and high archways. From the inside, the building seemed more like a fortress

The trick is not to kill the Monkey—which is impossible—but to tame it. Here’s how: Realize that everything we do is a choice. Reward the Monkey. Say, ‘If we finish studying this chapter in the next one hour, we’ll have an ice cream.’ Aim for slow and steady progress. Study one chapter every day, instead of studying the whole book on the eve of the exam. This way, not only are you growing academically, but are also keeping your Monkey happy.

A Sardarjee reported for his University final examination which consists of "yes/no" type questions. he takes his seat in the examination hall, stares at the question paper for five minutes, and then in a fit of inspiration takes his wallet out, removes a coin and starts tossing the coin and marking the answer sheet - Yes for Heads and No for Tails. Within half an hour he is all done whereas the rest of the class is sweating it out. During the last few minutes, he is seen desperately throwing the coin, swearing and sweating. The moderator, alarmed, approaches him and asks what is going on. "I finished the exam in half and hour. But, I am rechecking my answers

answers) 8.There is no crosswalk and you see a pedestrian crossing your lane ahead. You should: Stop and let him/her finish crossing the street. 9.It is illegal to listen to: Listening to music through headphones that cover both ears. 10.Always stop before you cross railroad tracks when: You don't have room on the other side to completely cross the tracks. 11.When you tailgate other drivers (drive close to their rear bumper): You can frustrate the other drivers and make them angry. 12.Should you always drive slower than other traffic? No, you can block traffic when you drive too slowly. 13.You see a signal person at a road construction site ahead. You should obey his or her instructions: At all times. 14.If you plan to pass another vehicle, you should: Not assume the other driver will make space for you to return to your lane  

For me, all those systematic Bureaucracies of traditional schools jaded me. For me, I still I couldn’t understand why we have to have a factory style education for children living in the 21st century. Why hold them in place, asking them to read and repeat and giving them a number of tasks to finish? I still have no idea how exams and objective assessments could measure human behavior or intelligence. Is it some kind of barcoding human aptitude? Is it ethical anyway?

baccalauréat exam, then hopefully get into the Sorbonne, to pursue his education. He was planning to major in literature and art. Much to Joachim’s chagrin, Javier flatly refused to join them. At seventeen, he wanted to live with a friend’s family for a year in Buenos Aires after his mother and brother left, and then go to work after that, without bothering with university. He grudgingly agreed to come to Paris in a year when he finished school, if his mother would allow him to spend the year in Buenos Aires. He didn’t want to graduate in another country, without his friends. His new, wild friends meant more to him than his education or his family. Liese didn’t like the family that Javier wanted to stay with, nor their son, and Joachim was upset at the thought of being separated from his brother for a year. He had never lived away from his twin, and even though they were very different and didn’t always agree, he still felt that Javier was a part of him, like a limb, or his heart, a vital organ he couldn’t imagine losing. He didn’t want to be away from him for a year, but Javier fought like a cat to be left behind. Joachim was always more protective of their mother, and it didn’t seem fair to him to let her go to her new life alone, without her sons, even though Francois was a kind man and would take good care of her. Joachim got along with him particularly well, and Francois enjoyed having a son for the first time. Javier treated him as an unwelcome stranger, an interloper, but Francois warmly invited him to live with them in Paris nonetheless. He knew how important her sons were to his new wife. She had

Yuletide Unburdening by Stewart Stafford Fading embers of the final Christmas test, No more the frantic angst of dawn, Now it is poised last-minute checks, And then the flushing of responsibility. A fortnight of relaxation and merriment, Awaits the temporarily-exonerated inmate, Though it means entering the bruising storm, Bartered freedom a passenger and guide home. Cross the draughty, great hall, and finish line, Whispered submission of completed exam papers, And the old year's prescribed work is done, Then outside, leaving others to their stress.

A score on a piece of paper tells me nothing, but you rising back up and returning to school to finish out the year and sit in that classroom tells everything about the wonderful, strong girl you are. And you make me prouder than any exam results could.

My junior year, I tested into the honors Advanced Math class—a hybrid of trigonometry, advanced algebra, and pre-calculus. The class’s instructor, Ron Selby, enjoyed legendary status among the students for his brilliance and high demands. In twenty years, he had never missed a day of school. According to Middletown High School legend, a student called in a bomb threat during one of Selby’s exams, hiding the explosive device in a bag in his locker. With the entire school evacuated outside, Selby marched into the school, retrieved the contents of the kid’s locker, marched outside, and threw those contents into a trash can. “I’ve had that kid in class; he’s not smart enough to make a functioning bomb,” Selby told the police officers gathered at the school. “Now let my students go back to class to finish their exams.

Table of Contents Your Free Book Why Healthy Habits are Important Healthy Habit # 1:  Drink Eight Glasses of Water Healthy Habit #2:  Eat a Serving of Protein and Carbohydrates Healthy Habit #3:  Fill Half Your Plate with Vegetables Healthy Habit #4:  Add Two Teaspoons of Healthy Oil to Meals Healthy Habit #5:  Walk for 30 Minutes Healthy Habit #6:  Take a Fish Oil Supplement Healthy Habit #7:  Introduce Healthy Bacteria to Your Body Healthy Habit #8:  Get a “Once a Month” Massage Healthy Habit #9:  Eat a Clove of Garlic Healthy Habit #10:  Give Your Sinuses a Daily Bath Healthy Habit #11:  Eat 25-30 Grams of Fiber Healthy Habit #12:  Eliminate Refined Sugar and Carbohydrates Healthy Habit #13:  Drink a Cup of Green Tea Healthy Habit #14:  Get Your Vitamin D Levels Checked Yearly Healthy Habit #15: Floss Your Teeth Healthy Habit #16: Wash Your Hands Often Healthy Habit #17:  Treat a Cough or Sore Throat with Honey Healthy Habit #18:  Give Your Body 500 mg of Calcium Healthy Habit #19:  Eat Breakfast Healthy Habit #20:  Sleep 8-10 Hours Healthy Habit #21:  Eat Five Different Colors of Food Healthy Habit #22:  Breathe Deeply for Two Minutes Healthy Habit #23:  Practice Yoga Three Times a Week Healthy Habit #24:  Sleep On Your Left Side Healthy Habit #25:  Eat Healthy Fats Healthy Habit #26:  Dilute Juice with Sparkling Water Healthy Habit #27:  Slow Alcohol Consumption with Water Healthy Habit #28:  Do Strength Training Healthy Habit #29:  Keep a Food Diary Healthy Habit #30:  Exercise during TV Commercials Healthy Habit #31:  Move, Don’t Use Technology Healthy Habit #32:  Eat a Teaspoon of Cinnamon Healthy Habit #33:  Use Acupressure to Treat Headache and Nausea Healthy Habit #34:  Get an Eye Exam Every Year Healthy Habit #35:  Wear Protective Eyewear Healthy Habit #36:  Quit Smoking Healthy Habit #37:  Pack Healthy Snacks Healthy Habit #38:  Pack Your Lunch Healthy Habit #39:  Eliminate Caffeine Healthy Habit #40:  Finish Your Antibiotics Healthy Habit #41:  Wear Sunscreen – Over SPF 15 Healthy Habit #42:  Wear a Helmet for Biking or Rollerblading Healthy Habit #43:  Wear Your Seatbelt Healthy Habit #44:  Get a Yearly Physical Healthy Habit #45:  Maintain a First Aid Kit Healthy Habit #46:  Eat a Banana Every Day Healthy Habit #47:  Use Coconut Oil to Moisturize Healthy Habit #48:  Pay Attention to Hunger Cues Healthy Habit #49:  Eat a Handful of Nuts Healthy Habit #50:  Get a Flu Shot Each Year Healthy Habit #51:  Practice Daily Meditation Healthy Habit #52:  Eliminate Artificial Sweeteners Healthy Habit #53:  Sanitize Your Kitchen Healthy Habit #54:  Walk 10,000 Steps a Day Healthy Habit #55:  Take a Multivitamin Healthy Habit #56:  Eat Fish Twice a Week Healthy Habit #57:  Add Healthy Foods to Your Diet Healthy Habit #58:  Avoid Liquid Calories Healthy Habit #59:  Give Your Eyes a Break Healthy Habit #60:  Protect Yourself from STDs Healthy Habit #61:  Get 20 Minutes of Sunshine Healthy Habit #62:  Become a Once a Week Vegetarian Healthy Habit #63:  Limit Sodium to 2,300 mg a Day Healthy Habit #64:  Cook 2+ Home Meals Each Week Healthy Habit #65:  Eat a Half Ounce of Dark Chocolate Healthy Habit #66:  Use Low Fat Salad Dressing Healthy Habit #67:  Eat Meals at the Table Healthy Habit #68:  Eat an Ounce of Chia Seeds Healthy Habit #69:  Choose Juices that Contain Pulp Healthy Habit #70:  Prepare Produce After Shopping

I got the internship. I finished it, got my degree, and passed the Series 7 exam.

Before the two days of exams, I slept just a few hours nightly, for the number of books to be read was insane and I made a maximum effort. After all, how could I dare disappoint my family? How could I disappoint Max, who paid my tuition? Yet, I don't know how I accomplished it. I was like caught in a whirlpool and kept going, going. I remember, one night, my Mother woke up at 4 a.m. and asked me why I was up so early, yet I had not gone to sleep yet. I had to finish a novel every day, no matter how long it took. Some impressions about Columbia. The dean, who advised me what courses to take, was none other than Prof. Oscar Hamilton, a famous Shakespearean scholar. He took time to talk to me about my interests and my former studies. I told him about my abiding interest in the theater and thus he recommended me to take the Drama course taught by Joseph Wood Krutch. He was, by that time, an influential drama critic and a most admired professor. At the first lecture I realized what a gold mine I had struck. A big lecture hall was completely filled, half were probably not his students. People just flocked to hear him.

In July, 1946, after finishing all my exams, I was near exhaustion. I was studying late into the nights, food was scarce and of poor quality and the heat became oppressive; I did not even have a fan. One could hardly sleep at night for that was before the availability of air conditioning or refrigeration. I remember going to my last exam in history, on the Fourth of July. The professor asked me what disaster befell the English on that day. He was thinking of the loss of the American colonies.

I am a student of life. I carry around a notebook. I keep logs. I study all the upswings and down currents of my days as if the final exam is tomorrow. Because we all have an exam tomorrow. Whether we realize it or not, every interaction, each task is a reflection of your mindset, values, and future prospects. It’s an opportunity to be the person you’ve always wanted to be.

You ever choked? You know what I mean, fumbled at the goal line, stuck your foot in your mouth when you were trying to ask that girl on a date, had a brain freeze on the final exam you were totally prepared for, lipped out a three-foot putt to win the golf tournament, or been paralyzed by the feeling of “Oh my god life can’t get any better, do I really deserve this?” I have. What happens when we get that feeling? We clench up, get short of breath, self-conscious. We have an out-of-body experience where we observe ourselves in the third person, no longer present, now not doing well what we are there to do. We become voyeurs of our moment because we let it become bigger than us, and in doing so, we just became less involved in it and more impressed with it. Why does this happen? It happens because when we mentally give a person, place, or point in time more credit than ourselves, we then create a fictitious ceiling, a restriction, over the expectations we have of our own performance in that moment. We get tense, we focus on the outcome instead of the activity, and we miss the doing of the deed. We either think the world depends on the result, or it’s too good to be true. But it doesn’t, and it isn’t, and it’s not our right to believe it does or is. Don’t create imaginary constraints. A leading role, a blue ribbon, a winning score, a great idea, the love of our life, euphoric bliss, who are we to think we don’t deserve these fortunes when they are in our grasp? Who are we to think we haven’t earned them? If we stay in process, within ourselves, in the joy of the doing, we will never choke at the finish line. Why? Because we aren’t thinking of the finish line, we’re not looking at the clock, we’re not watching ourselves on the Jumbotron performing. We are performing in real time, where the approach is the destination, and there is no goal line because we are never finished. When Bo Jackson scored, he ran over the goal line, through the end zone, and up the tunnel . The greatest snipers and marksmen in the world don’t aim at the target, they aim on the other side of it. When we truly latch on to the fact that we are going to die at some point in time, we have more presence in this one. Reach beyond your grasp, have immortal finish lines, and turn your red light green, because a roof is a man-made thing.

An eccentric philosophy professor gave a one question final exam after a semester dealing with a broad array of topics. The class was already seated and ready to go when the professor picked up his chair, plopped it on his desk and wrote on the board: "Using everything we have learned this semester, prove that this chair does not exist." Fingers flew, erasers erased, notebooks were filled in furious fashion. Some students wrote over 30 pages in one hour attempting to refute the existence of the chair. One member of the class however, was up and finished in less than a minute. Weeks later when the grades were posted, the rest of the group wondered how he could have gotten an A when he had barely written anything at all. His answer consisted of two words: "What chair?

An eccentric philosophy professor gave a one question final exam after a semester dealing with a broad array of topics. The class was already seated and ready to go when the professor picked up his chair, plopped it on his desk and wrote on the board: "Using everything we have learned this semester, prove that this chair does not exist." Fingers flew, erasers erased, notebooks were filled in furious fashion. Some students wrote over 30 pages in one hour attempting to refute the existence of the chair. One member of the class however, was up and finished in less than a minute. Weeks later when the grades were posted, the rest of the group wondered how he could have gotten an A when he had barely written anything at all. His answer consisted of two words: "What chair?

When the defense attorney finished her opening statement, which included a lot of body movement due to the fact that the bar exam that she passed only included limbo references

There are a hundred thousand species of love, separately invented, each more ingenious than the last, and every one of them keeps making things. OLIVIA VANDERGRIFF SNOW IS THIGH-HIGH and the going slow. She plunges through drifts like a pack animal, Olivia Vandergriff, back to the boardinghouse on the edge of campus. Her last session ever of Linear Regression and Time Series Models has finally ended. The carillon on the quad peals five, but this close to the solstice, blackness closes around Olivia like midnight. Breath crusts her upper lip. She sucks it back in, and ice crystals coat her pharynx. The cold drives a metal filament up her nose. She could die out here, for real, five blocks from home. The novelty thrills her. December of senior year. The semester so close to over. She might stumble now, fall face-first, and still roll across the finish line. What’s left? A short-answer exam on survival analysis. Final paper in Intermediate Macroeconomics. Hundred and ten slide IDs in Masterpieces of World Art, her blow-off elective. Ten

taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer’s bow. I opened the nearest door and slipped inside. A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on. A bead of sweat trickled down my neck. Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. “Nothing,” he murmured. “My nerves haven’t been right since the winter solstice.” “Mine neither,” Grover said. “But I could have sworn…” “Go back to the dorm,” Mr. Brunner told him. “You’ve got a long day of exams tomorrow.” “Don’t remind me.” The lights went out in Mr. Brunner’s office. I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever. Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm. Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he’d been there all night. “Hey,” he said, bleary-eyed. “You going to be ready for this test?” I didn’t answer. “You look awful.” He frowned. “Is everything okay?” “Just…tired.” I turned so he couldn’t read my expression, and started getting ready for bed. I didn’t understand what I’d heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I’d imagined the whole thing. But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I’d misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside. For a moment, I was worried he’d found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn’t seem to be the problem. “Percy,” he said. “Don’t be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It’s…it’s for the best.” His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips. I mumbled, “Okay, sir.” “I mean…” Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn’t sure what to say. “This isn’t the right place for you. It was only a matter of time.” My eyes stung. Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn’t handle it.