Exams. Or the art of boiling our brains 'till they come out of our ears

Exams, the well-known roaring monster punctually making appointments with students at Christmas and in June. Possible side effects include: stress, compulsive eating, lack of sleep, shortening of the nails due to biting them, 'je-m'en-foutisme', breakdowns and burnouts.

Yes, you, the adults of this world, you are poisoning the children you pretend to care so much about. I wish you would find another system to evaluate our capacities. Have open conversations and debates about the viewed subjects, for example, with small groups of students. Have them teach a lesson. Have them write an essay. Most importantly, have them choosing which method is the best for them. If they want to do a plain traditional exam, fine, if they want to write an essay, fine, if they want to do a presentation, fine. You'll never have someone at his/her full capacity if it's to do something that person doesn't like. Yes, this spawns from personal experience, but I'm almost sure it could be taken as a general truth.

I tend to be one of the lucky ones, being rather confident with a pen and all kinds of knowledge. So I was relatively safe until this year. Because here comes the cause of all my nightmares: Oral Exams. The very much feared thing dances through my mind, all written in capitals.

You might tell me there's nothing to fear, and that teachers are rarely into cannibalism. Tell that to my guts. I would very much like them not to try to spill out of my mouth at every oral exercise, or every word spoken above the 'very very quiet' voice level. Said guts trying to crawl their way up your throat to get out also cause shortness of breath, stuttering, and a crimson coloring of the cheeks. Plus of course the lasting impact of a psychological trauma.

Yes, dear teachers, you're killing us. So if one day your schools are empty, your homeworks not given in and your tests left unscathed, know that we're all having an acute case of examinitis. You might want to keep your distance. It's extremely contagious.