the lsat

So there we were – frightened, stressed and gripping plastic baggies containing all we would need to survive the next five hours while sequestered in the basement of the physics department at USF.

Clasping spare number two pencils, tissues, and pencil sharpeners (or in my case, an eyeliner sharpener), about 100 of us gathered Saturday morning in the bowels of the science wing for one purpose: to destroy the LSATs. While I can’t say for certain that I did just that, I can report that I filled in all of the bubbles on my scan tron. Excellent!

Though I am forbidden to actually talk about what was on the test, I can share my thought process at the time. And while I wish I could provide a more thorough account, let me remind you that I was taking a test and supposed to  be focusing on the task at hand – not entertaining you people. But here is what I can recall after regaining consciousness.

Check in: [Scanning around the room.] That girl has a ton of pencils. [I proceed to count them as she talks to the proctor.] She has 15 spare in her plastic bag. [I look at my bag. I only have two.] I then begin to wonder if I am unprepared … then I notice this same individual makes a large fuss about where she is sitting, how tiny the desks are, and has to be told twice not to skip extra seats. No, I am not unprepared … she is just an idiot.

Instructions: The proctor reads the directions aloud. He has an accent. I am no longer paying attention to what he is saying. Instead I think: Is he from New Zealand? Australia? Could he be British? Hmmm…

Test begins: Crap. Logic games. Have I even seen these before? I am screwed. So screwed! Stop wasting time you idiot. Go! I consider spelling words on my scantron in lieu of answering questions: CAB, BAD, BEE, CAD, BAC (wait, that’s not a word…) I flash back to the present and actual tackle the questions.

Still testing: My problem with all logic games in general is that I don’t concentrate on the problem itself. I focus on unrelated details. You know, the stuff that people really care about. For instance, instead of trying to determine what dish Jamie, Bart, Miffy, Talula, Sweet pea and Mitch order at dinner and in what order the plates arrive, I focus on things like this: I wonder if Jamie is dating Talula? Miffy sounds like a vegetarian. And carpaccio sounds good right now.

Not good.

Or, I will focus on details that don’t matter. Instead of trying to match what article of clothing someone wore with what color it was and whether it needs to go to the dry cleaners by 9 am, I try to solve the following problem: Who would actually wear that combination?

Still testing: Huge brain fart. Don’t recall anything from the hours of 9 am to 1:45 pm other than  noticing sharp pain shooting from my backside due to sitting on the rather hard, wooden seats for nearly five hours.

Test ends: The 100 of us emerge thirsty and tired from the basement. We look as though we have gone to battle and to be honest, I can’t really tell who won. We walk outside squinting from the flood of natural light. The boy to my right mumbles, “That wasn’t fun.” I look at him and my eyes come into focus. Then I realize: He is a genius.

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