Monday, October 3, 2011


With the LSAT. Since I was not harrowed up in mind, body or soul or going through some other crisis, I have to assume that whatever score I get is a good indicator of my average test results, so taking it again probably won’t result in some miraculous increase. Thus, my test today stands.
It’s been a stressful week.

Seven days before: I took what felt like my gazillionth practice test and realized there remained gaping holes in my studying. I bought a 300-page manual and started reading it.

Six days before: I realized the LSAT was the next big thing in my life. It was happening this week.

Five days before: I took the gazillionth plus one practice test. I got similar scores as previous tests but different questions wrong. Why, I wondered silently, could I not get a test where I understood all of the questions? And what is wrong with the writers of this test? Because the way they think is not normal.
Realized I needed a passport-sized picture taken in the last six months. Started scrolling through my camera hoping to find a normal-looking one from my last vacation. Didn’t think the proctors would find a picture of me eating a croissant amusing. Turned to Facebook. Also ditto; none of the pictures were in the last six months, even though I’ve looked about the same since I hit 21. Turned to the Herald website. Given all the times I’ve gotten my picture taken in that building, there were none of me.

Four days before: Remember that 300-page book? Hit it hard core. Studied all morning. Finished feeling dumber and less prepared than I had when I started. Not a good place to be.
At work, asked the last photographer who took one where it was. Finally got a digital picture. Now I needed somewhere to print it off in the right size, since a 4x6 really wasn’t going to cut it.

Three days before: Took my final practice test. Same story I’d already gone through a dozen times. Apparently the LSAC gods are determined to give me the same score range every time.
Took jump drive to Target for picture. Was unsuccessful after three minutes and wasn’t willing to work any harder at it. Took my dinner hour to hit up the evil empire that I grudgingly have to admit does everything. Finally got a picture.
Studied for two more hours that night. Tired. So very, very tired.

Two days before: Cut my workout short to get studying in before work. Worked the day shift, went to the temple after work, got home at 9. Forced my brain to do one last exercise – a writing practice.
Pencil down, book closed.

Day before: Tried to imagine life beyond the looming beast in front of me. Went to bed early. Tossed for a while before falling asleep. Woke up and checked my clock a good 10 times. Had crazy LSAT-themed dreams – I talked to my boss about how I couldn’t find the classroom, I got my score back (168, I believe – respectable), I pictured the specific parking lot I’d be going to.

6:37 a.m.: Gave up sleeping for the last time. Got up, put my shoes on and went over to UVU to make sure I did in fact know where I was going. Returned home feeling confident.

8 a.m., half an hour before I’m supposed to be there: Returned and found the familiar parking lot totally full and people walking toward the building with telltale Ziploc bags in hand. Found another parking lot, grabbed my bag and headed in. Listened to other test-takers talk about their practice tests and scores. Really? Had I known anyone there, we would have talked about football or food or Bahrain imprisoning doctors for treating injured protestors.

8:30: Checked in, got my room number, arrived at the room and was told I was in the wrong room. I clutched my admission slip with that room number on it and fought the urge to panic. Went to another room. My name was on that list.

1:13 p.m.: The timer rang for the last time. The test was over. I’d done what I could. Hopefully it was enough. In parts of the test I felt confident; in others I felt stupid. Some questions I just hoped I knew what the question was asking. Other questions I wished I could put an asterisk next to my answer so I could explain why I’d chosen it and thus convince the grader (a machine) that it was the right answer.
Walked out glad it was over. Had candy for lunch and took a nap.

1 comment:

  1. Congrats on being done! I cried after I took the GMAT. Just cried. All that stress just exited me in one big swoop of tears.