Proof Positive That I'm An Idiot

It is said that if a persons wonders "Am I crazy?" that thought is proof of sanity. However, I don't think asking oneself "Am I an idiot" is proof that one is not an idiot.

Case in point, I often wonder if I am an idiot, yet this thought process has never stopped me from doing anything stupid. I'll usually just say to myself "Oh well" and go ahead with whatever stupid enterprise I was thinking about and then watch it blow up in my face. Sometimes it's just more fun that way.

But stupid. Undeniably stupid.

So this last saturday, I took what's known as the Multi-state Professional Responsibility Exam aka The MPRE. Like all law school tests, this requires much hoop jumping and other idiocy. One is required to bring a piece of paper with one's picture on it, AND a picture ID, pencils etc. but then there is a whole list of crap one can't bring into the exam. I had nightmares the night before about them confiscating my kleenex (which are essential for my runny, polypy nose).

These tests are always in the morning which is definitely the absolute worst time, as I find myself barely conscious. So there was some kerfuffle with a student in line ahead of me as they had his first and last name listed backwards, and they were kind of rattling of our room assignments. I got my number and headed to the elevator for my room.

I'm walking down the hallway and find room 206 and sit down with my plastic bag of pencils and kleenex. One very odd looking girl greets me as I sit down. I look around the room, but there's no one I recognize. I focus on getting settled for a few minutes.

I look around the room again and notice that no one has study materials like mine. Huh.

Then I notice that one hispanic gentleman is reading over materials in a notebook in Spanish. "I didn't realize the MPRE was given in Spanish" I say to myself.

Then I see another gentleman, come in with a similar notebook, who begins looking over materials also in Spanish. And then I notice that everyone in the class has the same notebook.

And that's when I realize I'm sitting in a Spanish class.

I book it out of the room to the room next door where I see a frowny young woman who has "test administrator" written all over her. That and she's taking admission tickets and checking names off a list. I slide into my seat ahead of two other late comers.

"Be cool" I tell myself. Nobody knows you went to the Spanish class.

I also probably didn't pass that test.