It was time for our second-semester examinations at the University I attended. I glanced at the timetable on the notice board, trying to identify what course was placed as the first paper for my level and what time it was slated for. Several students squeezed themselves into the midst of the already congested crowd my colleagues and I had formed, stepping on toes and struggling to get a shot of the timetable with their phones.
Source
"We're writing script analysis first" I whispered when I found it, tracing my fingers across the timetable to ensure I was not making a mistake. When I had double-checked and was right, my countenance fell. That particular course had stressed us and the lecturer in charge did not help matters. He kept threatening that most of us would return to write the course the next year.
I returned home to start my revision for the examination. I had gladly focused on other courses but when it came to script analysis, I was too unmotivated to pick the 30-page handout for a glance. I just didn't want to.
I had barely a week to prepare for that paper so I buried my nose into the handout I had avoided all along, with some notes I had jotted down and even recorded during the classes, ensuring I didn't leave any stone unturned.
Thursday came swiftly and I soon found myself sitting in the examination hall, revising the areas of the course my friends and I thought were most likely to be asked as questions. It was barely 5 minutes into the examination when the course lecturer, Professor Richard, walked in.
His eyes were bulging in their sockets, roaming our faces and causing more discomfort than there already was. We picked up our bags, hung them at various locations within the examination hall for easy access afterwards then sat down to write.
Professor Richard asked all of us to leave the class, form a queue at the door, and began to rearrange the entire class for the examination. This exercise took another 10 minutes, we were running out of time.
"Listen up!" His rich baritone called out when we had settled down "Check yourselves properly to ensure there is no material that could implicate you during this examination. Take out your phones and other devices that would cause trouble for you as well. A word is enough for the wise" he sounded the last part, dragging his own ears for emphasis.
We finally commenced writing the examination.
There was a young man seated beside me in the front row, I didn't recognize him from my class so I thought he must have been writing from a different level.
About an hour into the examination, a female lecturer who served as the examination officer of my department walked in. She exchanged pleasantries with Professor Richard and moved around the hall, inspecting to see if every student was complying with the 'No malpractice' rule.
When she got to my table, she stopped and rapped on it. The young man and I looked up,
"What level are you?" I saw that he was scraping invisible dirt from his nails and his hands were trembling on his laps where they sat.
"4….400 level ma'am"
The woman wasn't convinced so she asked him for her name. When he said he didn't know, she frowned. Everyone knew Dr Justina, especially because she had to sign most of our documents within the department.
"Show me your identity card" By this time, she was raising her voice, causing almost all the students to be distracted. The young man couldn't produce one so she called the attention of Professor Richard.
After a little probing, they discovered the young man was not a member of the department and had been hired by someone who failed the course the year before to write the examination for her. That act was against the laws of the department and even the university as a whole.
Professor Richard called security immediately while the examination officer asked all of us to stop writing and produce our identity cards one after the other. Even when someone was a bonafide member of our class but didn't have his card on him or her, they were sent to the security.
Professor Richard came in a while later and collected all the examination slips from us saying that the paper was over.
As I went home, I reflected on the dramatic events that had taken place and wondered what was next for the guy and the lady who hired him.
Meanwhile, what was next for the rest of us who were still taking other examinations was that we were probed before and during each paper as if we were hardened criminals.
My colleagues who did not have their identity cards suffered the most. They had to bring other forms of identification such as their stamped school fee receipt, some had to bring their induction certificates.
Sometime during the following semester, a lecturer mentioned that the young man who was caught in the examination hall and the young lady who hired him had been rusticated from our university. I didn't know if it was okay to feel bad for them but all I could do was shake my head at the risks people took for a few currency notes.
