From The Double Xxv Comments

That year Summer began early.The trees came to leaf quickly as the temperature soared but the dress code for exam week was unbudging: jackets and neckties for the men and full skirts for the women. The old campus simmered in a fever of matriculation. Extroverts became loners, the mouth-off, silent, the strong, weak and the brash, doubtful.Late-comers raced to be on time. Even geeks had qualms. Finally, the day was over.

That evening, Miggi stumbled home in a funk. Questions and more questions- all day long! In his head they swarmed again- revenge for lackadaisical study- questions whose answers he never knew and answers correct but lacking when due. He could think of few answered well. A bit dyslexic, he wasn't a good student, lacking enthusiasm for the role. He was embarrassed, but in a deeper sense, indifferent, to his rank. He'd passed- so he didn't feel hangdog. Actual grades meant diddly to him. But in Cuba, they determined job placement- so actually they mattered alot. Stragglers found themselves relegated to the bush.
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