Open Features: Invigilators
Invigilators come from all walks of literate life. They are teachers, resting actors, unfrocked priests and personal friends of the examinations officer who have fallen on hard times or whose wives want them out of the house as often as possible... Brian Lockett, who has done his share of invigilating, tells us what we should know about those men and women who ensure that exams are conducted according to the rules. In doing so he provides convincing proof that there is at least one invigilator who has a keen sense of humour.
Invigilators are paid to invigilate, that is, to be present in a room during an examination to see that it is conducted as it should be.
If the examination papers are not there, it is the fault of the examinations officer. If the questions are too hard, it is the fault of the examining board. If the room is too hot/cold/draughty/smelly, it is the fault of the caretaker. If the toilets are too far away, it is the fault of the architect. If candidates do not have an adequate supply of pens, pencils, rulers, erasers, protractors or handkerchiefs, it is their own fault.
In other words, there are very few things which can give rise to complaint which are the fault of the invigilator. At least, that’s what they all say.
Invigilators come from all walks of literate life. They are teachers, resting actors, unfrocked priests and personal friends of the examinations officer who have fallen on hard times or whose wives want them out of the house as often as possible. Some are retired people not too fussy about how they make a bob or two. There are man and wife invigilating teams who want to be forced not to have to speak to each other for an hour or two each day.
In the examination room they can answer whispered questions, such as “When can I have my mobile phone back?”, “When can I go to the toilet?” and “When does this examination end?” (to all of which they would love to answer “Never”), but not questions, such as “What does tintinnabulation mean?”, “I think I took this exam last year. Will you check, please?” and “If I answer all the questions, can I ask the examiner to count only those answers that would get me the most marks?” This is because either the invigilator does not know the answer or, if he does, the resultant argument would cause severe disruption in the examination room.
Invigilators have to ensure that the rules of the examining boards are observed. Since there seem (at least to invigilators) to be about thirty eight of these, invigilators find it difficult at any given time to be exactly sure whether calculators are allowed, how many dictionaries are permitted or on what precise grounds extra time can be granted.
Candidates, on the other hand, seem to study the regulations of all thirty-eight boards with great care before devising a completely new set comprising the most candidate-friendly rules from each. They then attempt to win invigilators over to their point of view. In riposte, some invigilators select the least candidate-friendly provisions from each and ... But you can guess the rest.
Invigilators love examinations which last two hours and attract five candidates. They do not like: twelve different examinations held in the same examination hall, each with a different start and finish time; ‘clashing’ examinations, which require the isolation of some candidates in case they come into contact with other candidates who have just sat the examination; mixed bags of candidates granted 50%/25%/10% or whatever extra time; candidates who refuse to sit at desk number 13 because it is unlucky; and oral examinations which require the supervised feeding of candidates to remote rooms which lost oral examiners insist do not exist.
At English language examinations male invigilators feel protective towards tall, blonde, slender Scandinavian au pair girls. They are rather curt with short, dark, tubby Italian and Spanish waiters. Female invigilators, on the other hand, ... well, you’ll have to ask them.
The relationship between invigilators and examination officers (EOs) is complicated. Some invigilators wonder why EOs make such a song and dance about their job and are forever complaining about the unreasonable and totally impractical demands of examination boards, the complete lack of understanding and interest of their line managers and why school and college caretakers seem to be recruited from the ranks of deaf and illiterate psychopaths who are constantly taking sick leave. Such invigilators could do the EO’s job standing on their heads and save the establishment large sums of money by simplifying unnecessarily complex procedures.
At the other end of the spectrum are invigilators who regard the EO as a god and will happily follow his/her instructions to the letter and at the end of every examination will helpfully collect up desk numbers (which have to be quickly replaced for the next examination ten minutes later) and conscientiously replace on candidate’s answer sheets the candidate’s examination number by his college registration number.
Invigilators fall into three distinct categories: those who understand the 24-hour clock; those who think they understand the 24-hour clock; and those who won’t have anything to do with it, because no examinations should be held between 1800 and 0900 (6pm and 9am). Only highly qualified invigilators can accurately calculate when a one-and-a-half-hour examination starting at 11.47 should end.
One of the joys attached to invigilating is announcing that candidates now have just five minutes left. This joy is greatly enhanced if candidates were under the impression that their one-and-a-half-hour examination was going to be two hours this time.
Misinformation of this kind is usually disseminated by tutors, many of whom, it often turns out, are embittered and sadistic would-be heads of departments. Many are related to invigilators. You will often find them hobnobbing in the pub after an examination roaring with laughter at the chaos and despair they have together created.
Examination boards occasionally send an inspector along to check that everything is going as it should. Invigilators, unlike EOs, do not stand in awe of such people and will cheerily say to them such things as “Well, now that you’re here, can you look after things for a few minutes while I nip along to the canteen?” or “You should have been here yesterday - we handed out the wrong papers and students’ mobiles kept going off all the time.”
Most inspectors have at one time or another invigilated and should therefore know what fun it can be made to be. But advancement seems to have dulled their sense of humour and they just scribble furiously in their notebooks.
You will gather that invigilating is one way of occupying retirement usefully. There is not as yet a Guild of Examination Invigilators, but I reckon there ought to be. Nor is there an annual conference of the International Confederation of Invigilators held in such suitable places as the Bahamas or Melbourne - for one very good reason, I have to admit. But I am working on both of these progressive ideas.
