It is coming round to that time of year again for hopefully the last time ever. My heart sinks as I think about the logistical, psychological and emotional trauma that is GCSE speaking exams. I remember reading an article in the Guardian last year about the horrific and illegal torture methods used in Guantanamo Bay during which I had a post traumatic stress-like flashback of conducting GCSE French speaking exams. The format for the exam board we use (not going to mention the name but it has a very watery feel about it) is:
Roleplay - you sit in a room trying your hardest to remember the word for a stamp which you then have to ask your teacher for while a tape whirrs ominously in the background picking up every noise (including your racing heart) but most importantly the silence of your brain forgetting the word for a stamp which makes you feel terrible and completely throws your confidence out of the window so you end up with the opposite of a stream of conciousness - a dam of nothingness. (And this is only the first 30 seconds!)
Presentation - you recall only the irrelevant bits of a presentation you have spent the last 3 months learning by heart. You hope that the Miró-esque pictures you have drawn on a prompt card will help you, however they only end up helping you appreciate modern art.
General conversation/interrogation – okay, I am going to throw question after question at you in order to make sure you use three tenses, opinions, connectives and intensifiers to demonstrate that you have actually learned something over the past 7 years. Oh by the way, I really do not give a monkey’s (a monkey’s what I may add?) about any of the answers – especially those where you tell me if you eat healthily, the fact that you hate your Dad and your parents are divorced, that you play football three times a week with your friends and that the kinds of problems young people have today are alcohol (or al-kool) and peer pressure. I am especially disinterested in your school uniform that I can see for myself every day. By the way, well done for learning all of this by heart, suffering huge levels of stress and demonstrating that you have a really good memory.
Wonder what would happen if while in France you really did need a stamp???