Few things seem to cause as much angst in a Polish teenager’s life like the matura: a series of compulsory written and oral exit exams. Required of all students are two exams from Polish: a written and a spoken test. Students must pass the written before they are allowed to take the oral exam.

The written matura consists of four essay questions read aloud at precisely 9:00 a.m. on the same day in high schools throughout Poland.

This year the questions included the interpretation of a Wisława Szymborska poem (though not the one I included on the 25 November 2002 page), and a question, “Od Adam i Ewy . . .” (From Adam and Eve), about the loss of one’s home and one’s place in society as illustrated through literature. Another question began, “If you want to know a person, look at his shadow . . .”

The second day brings the chosen exams, with most people picking history, with math coming a close second. (Ironically enough, most of the students who chose math were girls — probably something like 80%.) This year there were about six people taking the matura in geography and one girl chose biology. No one chose English, and for good reason: it’s a difficult exam, concentrating mainly on the irregularities and exceptions of English grammar.

Once the students’ pain is over, it’s time for the teachers to get their dose: grading all those exams according to strict criteria.

Then comes the spoken exams — when my pain begins.