Ben had a problem in exams. He was fine in the run-up to an exam and ok when he started answering questions, but as soon as his knowledge stopped flowing and he had to go looking for information, his brain would implode. He’d get so much data teeming through his head that he couldn’t make sense of it, and he wouldn’t be able to read the questions any more, let alone answer them. He had been through a variety of educational institutions and had some exams in isolation with just an invigilator. Nothing helped.
He did no GCSEs, whatsoever. None.
His mum sent him to me a few weeks before his first A-level exam. In the first session I was top of Top Twenty Daft Things Mum Has Made Me Do To Stop My Brain Imploding. He really didn’t want to be here. So I said he should leave rather than waste his time and his mum’s money. As he considered the offer I explained that whilst seeing me might not help him, leaving certainly wouldn’t. He stayed. One additional complication was that, as he knew he wouldn’t be able to complete any of the papers, he had done only scant revision. I saw him twice before his first two papers, and then once again before the rest of them.
Ben wanted to join the RAF, for which he needed two Bs and a C. Mostly the therapy was about staying calm before the exam, calm as the papers were distributed, turned over, read through and so on. You can imagine. In session two I gave him a speed reading technique and explained, in hypnosis, that whilst I could help him fly his bomber into the drop zone (get him to and through the exam), he had to sort out his munitions payload (by doing some revision). We both new it was late in the day and, privately, I figured the best I could hope for was that he got through the exams comfortably enough to convince him it was worth revising for his re-sits at the end of the year. I said as much to his mum, but not to Ben.
He called this morning to tell me he got two Bs and a C (which was, coincidentally, exactly what he wanted to join the RAF). He said “I couldn’t have done it without you” and I don’t mind admitting the hairs on my arms were on end.
No GCSEs. Three sessions. Two Bs and a C at A-level.
Result!
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