Not a School Test

“What are you doing? This ain’t school!’ I had to shout at myself while sitting in that high chair in the eye testing lab. 

The lady dropped different lenses in the testing spectacles to check my right eye number. 

D H L E N

 P T A L O 

D N H O B U C

 I read those letters on the screen, all fine.

Then she blocked my right eye to test the left one and gave me the same sequence to read. Before she could scroll down, I was reciting the letters, feeling that familiar childhood rush from school – The desperate urge to give the perfect answer to the teacher’s questions.

It took me a while to realize that my ecstasy of showing off my last evening’s hard studies was going to award me no marks. This wasn’t the school assignment, where I raise my hand, stretch it tall till each tissue in my hand aches, to blurt out the answer in return for handsome marks and a reputation.  This isn’t a classroom.

The eye lady will simply say “Your eyes are perfect!” when they are not really.  The now mature 29-year-old in me realised I was sabotaging my eyes for the sake of childhood validation.  

I asked her to give me a moment. Let me drive off the studious attention-seeking schoolgirl in me first.

I gave myself a pep talk- This is an eye testing lab. You are a patient here. She is testing your eyes, not your memory. This is a moment for your eyes. Don’t let your brain lobes steal your eyes’ thunder. 

P.S.-  I have an increased left eye number.