I once wrote a contest essay on the topic of time, the gist of it being festina lente (make haste slowly). Recently I read that the Abenaki Indian word for clock papeezokwazik means "that thing which makes much noise and does nothing useful."
I love it! I wish in my far gone college days, I'd known that little tidbit. Maybe my then boyfriend, who was also my study buddy, would not have taken the time idea and won the first place prize. It was a nice bit of one-up-manship, done silently. His was the logic, organized mind, mine the random access, creative one. His factoids kept me rolling in an abundance of underpinning details, which caused me to outdo him on test essay after essay, where the flair, that bit of added spice that academia so prizes, influenced decisions.
More power to him! He deserved credit. I doubt I ever would have been so consistently high on my own. I'd have been knocked for disorganized prose, instead of praised for adding a bit of humor or delightful juxtaposition to a succinct, logical presentation of whatever facts were called for.
Stream-of-consciousness never did catch on much as a test essay-writing ploy.
