When I browsed through electives last fall, looking for a spring semester class, my eyes glossed over an important detail about the one I chose. Progress would be assessed by discussion, papers, and tests.

Yes … tests. Another class I took a couple years ago advertised a final exam, but that turned out to be a paper with a shorter due date. Maybe these tests would be the same.

It was a dangerous assumption. This was a test, full stop: multiple choice, multiple answer, true and false. Forty-five questions, 45 minutes. It covered Aristotelian and Thomistic metaphysics, no slouch subjects.

I can’t remember the last time I took a multiple-choice test. I must have been an undergraduate in college, but even then I was assessed mostly by essay exam. I’d forgotten how much a person who thinks too much can deliberate on a single question, even when she’s studied for hours.

When the appointed time arrived I tried to still the butterflies in my stomach by doing some deep breathing. The butterflies kept fluttering, and they fluttered for every one of those 45 minutes. They’re fluttering still because now I need to check my score.

Apart from personal angst, though, what struck me about this examination is that I really needed to know my stuff. The professor is old school, and he wants to make sure we’re reading the material. I am, but the old noggin’ ain’t as sharp as it used to be. It’s a humbling exercise. But that’s the point: it is an exercise, and I’m glad to be doing it. At least in general. We’ll have another test in five weeks — and the butterflies will be fluttering again.

(Photo: Wikimedia Commons)