The following article first appeared on January 12, 1983.

These are bleak times for Harvard undergraduates. While our friends at other colleges frolic on vacation or settle themselves in for a new term, the weeks ahead hold only anxiety and depression, as we scowl away in a gloomy series of library carrels.

But one of the few cheery aspects of exam period is that over the years, it has inspired a lively collection of seasonal tales. Some are apocryphal, and some are founded in documented truth. All are reassuring reminders that January's misery is common to everyone and has its brighter side. Here are four of the best.

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The most famous exam story concerns a student who found himself starting work on the second half of his exam in Memorial Hall, just as the proctor called out that time was up. The proctor proceeded to walk around the room, collecting all the bluebooks, but somehow he overlooked this particular student, who continued to scribble away frantically in a dark back-corner of the hall.

For some time, then, the proctor put all the blue books in order in a big pile at the front of the room, cross-checked them with the attendance list for the exam, and performed all the various other administrative duties that proctors must perform at the end of an exam. Meanwhile, the lone student scrawled away in his dark corner.

As the proctor was getting ready to leave the building, about half an hour after the exam had officially ended, he noticed the delinquent student, still writing as fast as his hand could fly across the page. The proctor was shocked, and in his sternest administrator's voice, he summoned the student to the front desk. The offender lay down his pencil, picked up his blue book, and slowly trundled across the hall.

"You have been writing for a full half hour in excess of the allotted time," said the proctor. "According to university rules, I am compelled to consider your exam invalid."

The student drew himself up to his fullest height, looked the proctor squarely in the eye, and said in outrage. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Why, no," said the proctor, surprised.

"Good," said the student, and he ran over to the huge pile of exams on the front desk, threw his blue-book into the middle of the mess, and dashed out of the room.

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One reading period, four pre-med roommates found their organic chemistry final approaching faster than they might ideally have wished. The day before the exam, they realized that their hopes for success on the test were dim at best. And their hopes of admission into medical school, which in turn, of course, had immeasurable influence on their hopes for fiscally rewarding adult lives were fading before their eyes. Calculating realistically, they determined that what they really needed was another solid 48 hours to study for the exam, which unfortunately was scheduled in approximately 23.

The quartet decided to take drastic action. Off they went to a neighborhood car-rental agency, where they engaged a car for the next two days. They all piled in and drove a couple of hours' distance from Cambridge--far enough away so that no one they knew would be likely to stumble upon them. For the next day and a half, they locked themselves into a motel room, and crammed intensively for their organic final.

On the day after the scheduled exam date, they were all confident they had mastered the course material, and they returned back to school. When they had returned the car, the four walked over to their chemistry professor's office in Mallinckrodt Hall. They found him at his desk, grading exams.