This week was my absolutely, definitely completely final exam.

I had to give a fifteen minute presentation of what I’ve been doing in the last year working in a social enterprise for people with addiction and psychological issues, and then some questions on the report I wrote. There’s a panel of four people: our tutor, the course director, another lecturer and civil servant from the state government.

There are no grades: you either pass or fail.

Fortunately I’d recovered from the flu and managed not to cough all over people. I’d also been reciting my presentation in every spare moment to make sure I didn’t dry up after six minutes.

We all had to say our piece, and answer a couple of questions, then wait while the examiners decided if we were any good or not.

Five minutes later I was asked to go back into the room, where the civil servant in the room told me I’d passed. That was it.

After six years (three years cabinet making and three years Occupational Therapy training) I’ve got no more learning, preparing coursework, carrying index cards, reciting presentations while cycling to work and trying to retain too much information at once:
No more exams, ever*. I’m finished. Finally.

I will of course milk this for all it is worth and post my certificate when it comes through…

*Probably.