Exams bring people together.
Is't not so? When it is that time of year, when some sit, some slump, some slouch, in rows of chairs, when some cling to coffee cups like drowning men, and some arrange and rearrange assorted pens, and the thundering clock
is ticking ticking, and white bright lights are harsh and buzzing,
then, and then most of all,
will we listen with sympathetic ear to the weird chap in the front row, who turns now with knitted brow. Says he, with a shake of his head, "Aw man...I'm so screwed."
At which admission our weary hearts remember warmth. "My brother!" cry we, and we perceive that in sooth, this fellow's habit of asking hard questions just before the end of each class is but a trivial fault - of no consequence next to his obvious strength of character. What a guy! What depth of feeling and noble sentiment express themselves in that heretofore unpleasant countenance! Surely we are kin - surely he is a distant cousin, thrice-removed offspring of some fair uncle. Let the jocund rebecks sound! The ice is broken - nay! melted, and ere the examinations begin, find we not new strength in pleasant conversation?
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