Older and much wiser
The older you get, the smarter you get.
I know teens are smugly dismissing that notion as the rantings of a man hopelessly lost in middle age. But let me say now, oh, callow youth, that I have facts to back up my argument:
I kicked butt on my SAT.
No, not the one I took light years ago with my fellow Class of 1976ers. I’m talking about the one I took in October.
In 1976, I scored 1170. In October, I scored 1320. The only conclusion that can be reached is that I got substantially smarter as I got older.
What else could have contributed to this mental surge? I didn’t grow new brain cells. Truth is that I lost some, especially in that four-year period fondly known as “the college years.” But instead of being reduced to Jell-O by the big, bad SAT, I whipped it like a cheese omelet.
Heck, I’m way smarter than the average high-school student. Last year, the national average was 1020, 506 on verbal and 514 on math, according to College Board, SAT program statistics.
To break it down, my math score this time around — which I thought would plummet through the floor — dropped only 10 points, from 560 to 550. And all of that without using a graphing function calculator. (More on that later.)
When it came to verbal skills, I scored a 770, up from a mere 610. Let me repeat that. I earned a 770 out of a possible 800 on the verbal section. Why, yes, that is quite close to perfect. Thanks for noticing.
The test I took in October was still the “old” SAT test, which is on its last legs. Members of the high school class of 2006 are taking a new SAT this spring.
In the new test, there will be no analogy section in the verbal portion. You remember those? (“Indigenous is to foreign as …” Then you have to select one of four choices that reflects the same relationship, such as “Indigenous is to foreign as business meetings are to productivity.)
That section has been replaced by a “writing” section, which consists of essay questions. Man, I wish I would have had a crack at those. Essay questions are heaven-sent gifts for students who like to write or, to put it bluntly, have a gift for slinging the bull. And if anything is certain to increase with age, it’s the ability to sling.
The math section on the new test, well, it will still be math.
I decided that I wouldn’t do anything different in October than I did in 1976. So, I did not take any “Ace the SAT” classes or read any special books. Just as in high school, I did nothing.
Signing up for the test is a breeze, because you do it online. Just go to collegeboard.com and follow the instructions. The cost is $35.
On Test Day – Saturday, Oct. 14 – I arrived at Bishop DuBourg High School with my extra-large cup of fast-food coffee, two No. 2 pencils (of course) and no calculator.
It seems that teens now can use a graphing function calculator in the math portion. But since I didn’t have one the first time, I didn’t take one this time. Besides, I did not know then and I do not know now what a graphing function calculator actually does. My verbal skills allow me to conclude that its main function is probably to work with graph-related math material, and I feel confident that I could deftly compose an answer to an essay question about such calculators. Just don’t ask me to use one.
As soon as I walked into my assigned classroom, the teacher looked annoyed by my presence (just like my teachers did in 1976).
“Are you here to pick someone up?” she asked warily.
“No, I’m here to take the test,” I said, as friendly as I can sound at 8 a.m.
With a perturbed look, the one teachers get when faced with a potential distraction in class, she pointed me toward a desk in the very back of the room. (Hey, I thought, things are looking up. My high school teachers always made me sit in the front of the room.)
Then came the toughest part of the entire SAT: fitting my aging, spreading physique into a desk designed for teens. If I had any anxiety related to the test, it was my fear that I’d have to wear the desk like a hula skirt when I left.
The teacher read all of the instructions, checked us all to make sure we had nothing but our No. 2 pencils and the calculator.
“You don’t have a calculator?” she asked primly.
“No, no calculator,” I replied.
“You just have all the answers in your head?” she queried, a bit testier.
“Not necessarily,” I retorted.
(Note: Using words like primly, queried and retorted are good ways to show off your verbal skills.)
Once the test began, I was surprised how easy it flowed. My No. 2 flew from box to box coloring in the answers. I was not stressed or hurried and was not tied in knots by any questions. I must admit that a handful of math questions might as well have been written in Sanskrit, so I just skipped them.
About halfway through the test, it dawned on me why it was so easy: I didn’t care how I did.
No matter how bad I did, they couldn’t take away my house or my car, I couldn’t lose my job (I checked my employment contract beforehand) and my parents wouldn’t be disappointed.
Lisa Corsale, a DuBourg student from south St. Louis County, was taking the test for a second time and was dealing with some of that pressure. She was trying to get into either Washington University or Northwestern University.
“It was all right,” she said. “I’m trying to get into one of those two schools, and the better I do on these tests, the better my chances are.”
Well good luck to you Lisa, and to all the other seniors who are planning out their futures. But remember that, if things don’t immediately work out like you planned, have no fear.
You’ll get smarter.