Well I've finished comps today and I must say, I'm feeling alright about it. I feel like I did well enough. There are three questions graded on a scale of 4-0 and you're required to have an average grade of 1.5 to pass, where a 1 is a weak understanding of the material. I feel I did well enough to at least pass.
My study group decided to dress in power outfits for comps. That is, outfits in which we feel on top the the world. And I must say, it was way more fun taking comps in crazy attire than it would have been otherwise.
I'm so glad that part of my life is over and I can put it out of my head at least until December 3rd, when I hear if I did so badly on a question that I have to retake it. Hopefully, that will not be necessary.
Angela, the girl in the elf attire, wrote this beautiful poem I'd like to share with you that expresses the feelings of the day before comps quite well.
Twas the night before Comps and all through the house,
not a square inch was clean, nor anything thereabouts.
The flashcards were laid out on the table with care,
In hopes that a bonfire awaited them la'er.
The scholars weren't nestled, but crammed in instead,
While visions of theories danced in my head.
And Lew all neglected, Marie being a cat,
Had finally given up seeking even a pat.
When inside my brain there arouse such a clatter,
I slammed closed my books, crying, "WHAT IS THE MATTER!"
Away to the worst-case-scenario like a flash,
My mind threw out questions, no matter how rash.
"Semantics, on the crest of a terrifying blow,
Could inquire something I don't already know!
And, what to my wondering eyes, might appear,
But a discourse question to analyze - oh dear!
Or a little old Hebrew - it might be a trick!"
I knew in a moment - comps writers are SICK.
More evil than Sauron, and yet all the same,
They'd quiz us tomorrow, I could hear questions by name.
"Now translate! Now Argue! Now rise and defend!
On Narratives! On Inferences! On Speech Acts! The end!
To the types of pronouns! And yes, this curve ball!
And give scholars! Give Scholars! GIVE SCHOLARS FOR ALL."
As dry eyes before the wild comps test may fly,
When they meet with such obstacles, can't help but cry,
So up to the lids, my eyeballs, they filled,
With tears already shed for being so unskilled.
And then in a twinkling, I thought of more proof,
This was all too exhausting. I just feel so - oof.
I drew in my breath and was turning around
When I noticed my notes, still left on the ground.
They were dressed all in scribbles, from bottom to top,
All dog-eared and torn as they had been dropped.
A bundle of flashcards I had shoved in the back,
And for this I had given myself flack.
Discourse - how I knew it! Paragraphs - how easy!
Implicatures inquiries could not make me queasy.
And droll little semantics, with everything to know,
The last two days proved I could learn nothing mo'.
The stump of Translation could not make me flinch,
That's my major, you guys, and Hebrew's a cinch.
I had a broad base of scholars - at least fifty three -
I'd put them to music last night like I was on Glee.
I was ready and prompt, a right prepared little elf -
Wait a minute, I thought to myself.
A wink of the eye, a point of the ears,
In that costume, precious, I've nothing to fear.
I spoke not a word, I went straight up the stairs,
Found my dress, found my ears, found I didn't care,
Laying them out on the bed for Saturday morn,
What people would think, their laughter or scorn.
I knew that tomorrow, I would feel ready,
With elf ears and costume and too much to study.
To comps I should say, you're still a great fright,
But dressed for the part, I feel totally right.
