A piece of cake

A busy day today, but I have half an hour now before my next lesson. But the day began with two tests; one in Elgin, one in Inverness. The words ‘chalk’ and ‘cheese’ spring to mind.
My first test was at 8.40am in Elgin, so it was an early start. I have been getting increasingly casual about what I eat during the day; ‘lazy’ is perhaps more honest. Rather than preparing a balanced lunch, I have been going to cafés or grabbing supermarket sandwiches. It’s not so much the calorific content, but if you add up how much it all costs over a week/month it is rather worrying. So, last night, I had good intentions. I decided I would, in the morning, prepare myself a lunch to enjoy whilst my Inverness pupil was on test (assuming she did not want me to sit in on her test - I don’t think it would have created the proper professional impression). But I forgot and, just as I was dashing out the door, I remembered and grabbed a big slab of fruitcake that Irene, our next-door neighbour, had kindly baked for us.
My first pupil began lessons with me after I had started teaching her son. Her son was not the most natural driver I have ever seen, but he was very dedicated and always determined to improve. He passed his test a few months ago with barely any driver faults and she is very proud of the way he drives.
 The mum, however, is….. ‘inconsistent’. Perhaps, deep down, I knew she wasn’t ready. I have mentioned her before and moaned about how she constantly said ‘Well, that’s not what my last instructor told me.’ She would drive along, painfully slowly; the reason being because she was spending more time continually checking her mirrors rather than reading the road ahead.
“Why are you checking your mirrors so much?” I asked.
“Because my last instructor told me to.”
“But WHY should you check your mirrors?”
“I don’t know.”
That was a typical exchange. We had another one the other day: I asked her to pull over because her pedal control did not seem as good as usual…
“Try moving your seat back a notch or two.”
“Why? What am I doing wrong? (Very defensive)
“Nothing, but I think we can improve your control. You seem to be hesitant in bring the clutch up and a bit sharp on the brakes.”
“Well my last instructor never told me that.”
She was full of things that a previous instructor had told her to do, but with no understanding of ‘why’. She works several miles from home and has to rely on public transport. With a reduction on bus services she decided that she had to pass her test, so she went ahead and booked it. I know, I know, I know…. It should be me who decides when she takes her test. I know. But I sympathised with her transport problem and perhaps my ego thought I could get her to a good standard in time. My ego was wrong.
Her test wasn’t good. When she relaxes she can drive well, but as soon as something goes wrong it dominates her thoughts and her concentration goes. Whether it was the pressure she put herself under of having to pass, or whether she made an early mistake I don’t know, but it was probably the least successful test I have had in years.
The examiner was honest in their assessment of her driving, but not rude. I didn’t catch all of the conversation but my pupil had obviously tried to argue her way to a pass. Now let’s make this clear: The examiners do not want to fail you. If, in those 40 minutes, you can convince them that you are safe, in control, are considerate of other road users and have a degree of confidence then you will pass. Once you have passed your test you will be in solo control of a potentially lethal weapon. The examiners will not change their mind and pass you just because you ‘need’ your licence.
Your driving instructor is the best judge of when you are ready for your test, not you, not your husband, wife, mum, dad, boyfriend, girlfriend or even the man in your road who used to be a driving instructor. But whatever your instructor thinks, it is the examiner you need to convince, and you do that by driving well in your test.
I had no time to dwell on the matter, or even arrange her next lesson; I had another test to get to, 40 miles away in Inverness.
Over the rest of the day, the pupil who had just failed sent me a succession of texts, all moaning about how unfair the examiner had been and asking if there was a form that she could fill in to complain about the examiner. I answered her first text, initially apologising that it had not gone to plan (after all, it was partly my fault for letting her take her test) and explaining that the examiners need to ensure that new drivers are safe drivers. But I advised against complaining about the examiner. But after that first text I didn’t bother replying to the others.
This next pupil, as I suggested earlier, could not have been more different. She undertook a fairly concentrated course of 25 hours of lessons, but went out driving regularly with her dad. Whenever I felt there was something she could work on she would ask me to write it down and she would go away and work on it (if we had not completely fixed it in her lessons). So I was as relaxed as I could be when she set off on her test.
Disaster though! I had left my chunk of Irene’s fruitcake in the boot of my car!
Meanwhile, another deluded text from my first pupil came through, still ranting about the examiner and now turning her attack on me. She said that “…doesnt say much for you because (the examiner) made it clear I wasting money and everybodys time!”
My initial reaction was to text back and remind her how well I had taught her son and perhaps the best thing she could do was to spend time in the car with him, watching how he drives. But, it would have been a waste of a text. And sometimes I can be a nice person, so I decided not to aggravate her already bad day.
My pupil returned from her test, passing well with just two driver faults - a fantastic result. Holly and her dad, who was waiting, were thrilled. I was equally pleased, especially as I could now, finally, have my cake and eat it.