My Journal

My Driving Examiner Yelled at Me

July 8, 2019

This morning, I had a traumatic experience...well, traumatic for me.

Background

About a month ago, I began taking driving lessons at a highly-rated driving school in my city. Overall, I did well during my lessons, but I had one bad experience that almost made me give up driving forever: I did not slow down enough when making a right turn, angering the drivers around me, nearly causing an accident. One woman yelled out of her car window, "Do you know how to drive!?" No, I didn't.

After five lessons, I scheduled my road test for today around 8:30-9:30 a.m. I was up bright and early—5:15 a.m—because the instructor would take me to practice on the test course for two hours before the test began. During the practice time, I made different mistakes each time I maneuvered through the course, but my instructor insisted that I was ready to take the test. I wasn't so sure.

The Test

Words cannot explain how nervous I was as I waited for the examiner to approach my vehicle. I wondered if other students were having trouble breathing, too. The longer I waited, the worse I felt.

Eventually, the examiner opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat, mumbling a short, sharp "hello." He was an older Black man, maybe about 65-70 years-old, who seemed neither polite nor rude-neutral. I relaxed a bit and began the test, following his directions. The test was going rather well until I approached an intersection in which I had a stop sign and others didn't. God, revisiting this memory is so painful.

After making a complete stop at the stop sign, another car slowly approached from the left. Admittedly, I did not realize that they did not have a stop sign and prepared to drive through the intersection.

"STOP!" the examiner yelled. "Stop the car!" The other car slowly passed while the examiner scolded me. "You have a stop sign; they don't!" He shook his head and shot me a look of disgust, as if I lacked the competence to even be in his presence. I was sure I'd failed. To make matters worse, he gave me another chance to correct the mistake, and I made the same one. Such an idiot. He scolded me again, but I was so numb that his icy tone couldn't lower my morale any more than it had the first time.

I made a few other mistakes, such as not signaling before pulling away from the curb and parking horribly, which irritated my instructor even more.

By the end of the test, I was hollow inside, too stunned to cry as the examiner shook his head. "Were you in a hurry or something?!" he shot.

"No..."

"You must pay attention at those stop signs! People drive crazy out here. You need to be alert at all times." I gulped. "Now go on in there and get your license."

The Aftermath

Why did he pass me? Honestly, I don't know. On the ride home, the instructor informed me that my examiner is known for being a harsh grader, and he's failed other students for making the same mistakes I'd made.

"But it's clear that you can drive," he said, "and he probably knew that."

I was not happy. Sure, I was relieved that I could return home with good news, but I was still in shock. The examiner's words kept replaying in my mind: "Stop the car!"

Now, hours later, after a nap and a two meals, my anxiety has barely faltered. My chest remains tight and constricted, my breathing uneven, my heart rate elevated. Although I passed my road test, I had a horrible experience that I will remember forever. For the next couple of days, I will focus on regaining my composure. I'll definitely recover from my experience, hopefully sooner rather than later.