By SUE BERNER

It's final exam time again. You don't have to be told. You can just naturally sense it. The grim looks on the faces, the tightly closed mouths, the books that are open for a change are all indications of the horrendous event about to descent upon us.

The first signs of finals start to appear at about the end of the first quarter. The teachers get that sly little grin on their faces when they hand you a ditto and remind you to "Save it for finals." Well, you can laugh it off. Finals aren't for a long time.

Then, at about the beginning of January, the next sure sign appears. You walk innocently into homeroom one morning and see final exam schedule posted on the bulletin board. But that doesn't bother you. You know there are still three long weeks of freedom. Even the fact that your English, math, and chemistry tests are all on the same day can't affect you. You're safe!

You sail through the review chapters. You take notes only when you feel like it. You lose your 3x5 cards. Life is fine and you're taking it easy.

Then suddenly you glance at the calendar and find that those exams begin in two days. A tiny little thought flickers in the back of your mind that maybe, just maybe, you ought to study; but you ignore it.

On the day before finals, everyone is tense and nervous everyone but you. You chuckle slyly. Calm, cool, and collected is how you feel. Calm, that is, until you get home.

After a leisurely dinner you decide to glance at just a few chapters before you catch 'Charlie's Angels." You open your English notebook and discover from the only notes you did take that 50 per cent

of the English exam is to be based on the movie you slept through, 25 per cent on the book you never read ("I had to work!"), and another 25 per cent on the grammar book you lost. You start to feel a faint glimmer of regret when you look at the review sheet and realize that the only questions you can answer are the ones that have the answers written in.

Moving on to math, that lump in your throat gets bigger when you find out that the only thing you can prove is the given. Finally in chemistry you discover that in order to do Investigation 2, you have to know the formula for that fizzy green stuff you spilled in the sink. A feeling of terror develops. You've got it ‑ finals fever.

Symptoms exhibit themselves. You run to the phone and begin calling numbers at random. You start out playing it cool. Hi, Randy? I'm the kid who sits three seats behind you to the left in math, and I sort of missed a little of Theorem 13 last week and was wondering . . .

This approach does not last long, however, when you realize that everyone else is just as ignorant as you are. Then real terror develops. 'Hello, hello? Never mind who this is. What on earth is sodium chloride?"

The next morning you're up at 5 for your 8 o'clock final, trying to get in some last minute studying while you eat your Pop‑Tart. For some reason you have double vision. It could have something to do with the fact that you were up until 2 am. reading Julius Caesar.

The fateful moment arrives; you're at school. Everyone is either screaming, "Is English hard?" or stumbling around looking sick. You mope to that first test. You try to put off opening that door ....

Silence. It's 1 p.m. It's over. There's only one thought left in your mind. "There's still tomorrow, Friday, and ‑ next June."