So I'm taking the LSAT on Oct. 4, and according to various conversations I've had or overheard, so are about 1,000 other people on this campus. Yes, in less than two short weeks, practically half of the senior class will sit in a freezing cold room with a giant clock for several hours answering questions that their college education has in no way prepared them for. If you see people randomly breaking out into hives today, you'll know it's because they just read the second sentence in this paragraph. Pat them on the back reassuringly and let them know they're still better off than other people right now. Like Tom Brady. And homeless people.
It's not really Boston College's fault, though. Unless you're in some advanced party planning class that is hidden in the school's curriculum, figuring out a seating chart when Bill can't sit next to Jill and Ned has to sit across from Ted but Ted has poison ivy and can't make it to the party at all, well that's just not something we contemplate every night while we're eating our milk and cookies. Oh and the reading comprehension passages? Yeah, I can generally read and comprehend things, but no one told me that some of these passages would be science-related. As a person who danced across the football field on my way back from Merkert after my last day of Chemistry and Society, part of the appeal of studying law was to never, ever have to talk about cells, noble gases, or rare South American fish ever again. Ever.
Even more nerve-wracking than the test itself, however, are the actual test-day procedures. After I purchased my admission ticket to take the LSAT, I received an e-mail from the test administrators letting me know how everything was going to go down in a few Saturdays. Apparently, in addition to asking me to show my ID, they're going to scan my thumb to help eliminate test-taker fraud. I'm also not allowed to bring my cell phone or any kind of bag, and my pencils, eraser, and sharpener have to be kept in a clear plastic bag on top of my desk. After reading all of these restrictions, I realized it is officially harder to take the LSAT than it is to get through airport security, have Comcast come out and fix my cable, or enter the Matrix.
For me personally, the most daunting thing about taking the LSAT is a pretty obvious conclusion when you think about all of the logical reasoning we've been cramming into our heads to prepare for this thing. If I take the LSAT, that means I'm probably going to law school, which means I'm probably going to have to actually practice law one day. Now before you ask your friend why someone let the dumb girl take the LSAT, actually think about that for a second. Are we taking this test because we want to actually be lawyers, or because we heard there's a way to stay in college and avoid the real world for three more years? Would we actually be good at defending someone in court, or are we like, always arguing with our roommates and like, kind of always winning and stuff? Is this our calling in life, or did we just grow up watching a little too much Law and Order? Did you, like me, just hang your head in shame at your answers to all of these questions?
Well the good news is you don't really have to worry about life yet, just a test that may very well determine it. So for now, just get your clear plastic bag and bottle ready, polish your thumb, and keep thinking about where in Carmen Sandiego's world you're going to put Ted and his poison ivy self at the dinner table.
Oh, who am I kidding? Screw this - I'm going to take a nap.
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