Trials (and Tribulations)

Life right now is a tad depressing.

It’s near the end of term, but not near enough. The Christmas spirit is building, but we’re still in November. It’s getting cold, dark and the heady days of September are a distant memory. Stress is rising, patience evaporating and enthusiasm for learning waning. But the real mood killer, the real punch to the guts in this time of despair is one word: trials.

Trials, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, are the school's internal exams that take place at the end of the Michaelmas and Summer halves. They last for a week, with the upcoming ones beginning next Wednesday and continuing till the following Tuesday, and are just a notch down in intensity from public exams.

Having talked to friends at other schools, arranging exams at the end of term is unlike the norm of having them at the beginning. There are pros and cons to each system I guess, but I have to say that despite the pressure of sitting multiple exams on the back of a long and stressful term, I’d rather do them then than have to chew on Christmas cake with revision at the back of my mind.

For most people, revision for Michaelmas trials begins after St Andrews day. Keen beans will start earlier, and lazy bones delay it for a week, but knuckling down after short leave will give you a good fortnight in which to cram.

Where that cramming takes place is a question of taste. About half stay in their rooms, comfortable in their own habitat, while those who find this endeavour too solitary will head elsewhere.

Typically, this is a library and as the main one School Library is always rammed with people at this time. Spare desks can be in short supply as a result, and even if you do find one it’s no guarantee of a decent working environment.

This was my experience at least when I secured a desk earlier this week, only to suffer the mannerisms of the people near me who, if they weren't whispering to each other, were coughing every five seconds, chewing on gum indiscreetly, listening to music that I could overhear or messaging friends to arrange Tudor Stores’ trips. Honestly, it was so off-putting I think a strip club would have been less distracting.

After a while I retreated to my room where I have resolved to stay for the near future, or at least go somewhere that I know will be tranquil (the top floor of the music schools, ironically, isn’t a bad shout).

In their timings and organisation trials follow a military-like precision. A fortnight or so before kick-off a timetable is sent around, detailing the exact time and location of each exam. Everyone is given a candidate number, designed to eliminate bias by examiners, and there are a plethora of rules to be aware of regarding items allowed into the room, what ink you can write with, when you can leave early and so on.

Crazily, once they are all over everyone’s results are returned the very next day, also the last day of term. For those beaks therefore marking exams sat on the Tuesday, this must mean having to work around the clock without sustenance or toilet stops! 

Each exam is graded between 1 and 9, 1 being the highest and 9 the lowest, as well as ranked against everyone else sitting the paper e.g. 120/250. Those who come first in an individual exam are awarded a trials prize.

‘Distinctions’ are bestowed upon the top 35 or so boys who perform best overall in trials, whilst a ‘merit’ is given to the next 40. A merit, it has to be said, is a fairly token award, but a distinction is important because three of them in a row or four in any order qualifies you as an Oppidan Scholar, with the letters OS added to your name, e.g. Bill Jones OS.

As with any kind of exam, getting your results back is always a nerve-wracking experience. F, E and D blockers are obliged to attend ‘reading over’ in the Farrer Theatre, a short ceremony in which the headmaster announces those awarded trials prizes, merits and distinctions. If you’re aiming for one of these then it’s like the Oscars, minus the cringey speeches.

Afterwards, everyone goes to collect their results in full from their tutors, presented in the form of a trials and detailing the marks of each exam on it. This is then brought to your house master, where a pat on the back or a dressing down is in order, depending on your performance. Then it’s home and freedom!

Sitting trials for the first time can be a bit of a shock. It certainly was for me in F block at least. I remember basing my revision strategy around that which I had used for mocks in prep school – do nothing till the night before! Given that I had always considered myself naturally clever until this point, I felt I could get away with it.

However, I was in for a nasty surprise. When I went to pick up my trials card I was shocked to see it littered with high numbers; 4s, 5s, and even a 7. Indeed, in this last exam I had ranked 240 something, perilously close to a fail. Unsurprisingly my house master and tutor were far from impressed and didn't hold back in their criticism of me. 

The seriousness with which the whole thing was treated was unexpected, and to make matters worse it turned out that one’s performance in trials is a legitimate source of one-upmanship. Runty in particular was keen to rub it in, wafting his own superior trials card in front of me when I told him my results.

I was humiliated, but also livid. Not with Runty so much as with myself. I knew I was cleverer than him and most of the people who had teased me, but now I would have to wait a whole 6 months for the chance to redeem myself.

However, they say that patience is a virtue, and come the summer trials I began revision extremely early. This was done discreetly to avoid suspicion, and I spent the hours poring over my notes and essays.

In the end it paid off, brilliantly. When I showed my trials card to other people (feigning nonchalance of course) their jaws dropped in shock. Runty especially was taken aback. 

‘How’d you do that?’ he asked.

‘Victoria spolia’ I replied haughtily.

‘What’s that mean?’ 

‘To the victor the spoils…’ I said, and under my breath, ‘…loser!’