Five hours went by between the time I arrived at and the time I finally left the room where I took my final exams this morning. After the ordeal was over, the president of the panel gave me the results in front of the 7-member jury and the additional instructor who was in charge of the sound system. I failed.
There had already been a “burial” song by the second test, when the theme to “The Godfather” started blasting from an instructor’s cell phone. Very professional…
I’m really grateful for the support I’ve received from friends and strangers. I’ve never failed at something so important before and though I know that passing rates for interpreting courses are low (around 30%) and that this all means I‘ll have to work harder next time, I’m still bummed out that I’m not among the good ones right now.
I came home hoping to stuff my disappointed face with some Portuguese dessert but the sweet cake has been invaded by ants. Little bastards. Whatever. At least I can start packing to return home to my dear Amsterdam. For now I’m going to relax my grip on life’s horns a little, taking comfort and pride in something that a jury member, the head of a EU interpreting department, said to me: “You have courage. That’s very important in this profession.”
Well, we might lose a battle but that doesn’t mean the war is over. There is no other way.
So bottoms up to courage!