Testing in Thai Pants

Let's not get into standardized testing and the various, numerous problems associated with it. Let's not talk about computer adaptive testing, about how your score is dependent on the first few questions to which you respond. Let's not talk about words out of context, about math evaluation on skills you probably learned and forgot about ten or more years ago. Let's not talk about "objective" evaluation of a thirty-minute writing assignment, based on a topic of which you are assumed to have some general knowledge, regardless of your race, class, ethnicity, regardless of whether or not English is your first language, regardless of where you grew up or what you are interested in.

Let's instead talk about the funny people I met in the test administation center while preparing to take the GRE.

I thought I was running late, as my test was scheduled for 8:00 am, and I was informed that I should arrive no later than a half hour before that. I flailingly and hurriedly arrived, disheveled and anxious, at 7:37 am. I thought I was way too late, I feared that I would be turned away, and my $140 not refunded, or worse yet that I would be granted a score of 0, to be etched into my permanent record, like that unseemly blemish on my existent criminal record, or that my photo would be posted at all testing centers with a vengeful caption like, "Unworthy," or, even worse, "Lactard." Maybe I had some irrational fears. Maybe.

In any case, I arrived, slightly frantic, to find a short line. I was out of breath from running across the University of Minnesota campus after parking my car in a lot I couldn't afford to pay for, and dealing with the stressful situation that is my car which entails a non-functioning driver's side window, so that when I enter a parking ramp, I have to make sure that I pull in far enough away from the ticket dispenser so that I can actually unbuckle, get out of my car, and walk over to push the button and take the ticket. It's a massive stress, and just a little too much to deal with while running late for a standardized test. So there I was, suffiently parked and driver's side window intact, far away from my car, and waiting, pantingly, in a small office with two young student-y workers who seemed to wish they were somewhere else.

I had been warned that I must show proper identification. In this day and age of strict airport security, I made sure that I had ample identification. In my bag, I carried, of course, my driver's license, but also a current utility bill, just in case, and also my passport, my former student ID, my St. Paul Public Library card, my Textile Center membership card, and a variety of local coffeeshop punch cards. You never know. It turned out that they only asked to see my driver's license, which sports an old photo of me as a baldie and an old address that I have never gotten around to updating.

The guy behind the desk was carrying on a drab conversation with the woman at the desk next to him... "Am I leaving the office early today? I hope so because Jessica is having her barbeque."....and the woman...."No, didn't you get off early last week? How is Jessica?".....and him, "Oh, she's fine, ever since that dog bit her in the...ahem, you know...she has had some wierd behavior around my ferret, but I think she'll get over it. I guess it just means I can't bring Fuzzy."....and then he said, when I found myself at the front of the line and without looking at me, "What are you here for?" and I really wanted to respond, "For the community update on Jessica, and you have a ferret???" But instead I said, "The GRE."

Then the women at the other desk stood up and walked over to me. She was kind of earthy, with a flowy skirt and sandals and long, messy hair. "Oh. My. Gosh," she said, punctuating each word and staring at my legs. It was a little alarming. "Where did you get your pants?"

Remember, at this point, I am brimming with anxiety about the test, entertaining irrational fears about my photo being posted at all GRE testing centers with embarrassing captions, and this cross-conversation stuff was confusing to begin with, but when I and my legs became the subject, it was a little more than I could handle. I wasn't sure how to answer her question. I was prepared to answer questions like, "What's the antonym of vituperate?" or "What's the area of the shaded part of the concentric circles?" A question like, "Where did you get your pants?" seemed completely out of context.

I blinked. "Um...well, uh," I stammered, "From a friend."

And, without pause, behind-the-desk guy said in a droll monotone, "Please read this over and sign here, then copy this statement and print your name here, please write your thesis statement on this page and then make a list of your shortcomings here on page four and then if you have any amends you can make them on the last page and please don't use your middle initial but instead give us the name of your childhood pet, and if you did not have one then circle the appropriate letter which corresponds to the maiden name of your mother and if your mother was not a maiden then 50 points will automatically be deducted from your score, and I hope you understand scoring of The Cricket because our tallying is reminiscent of the confusing mix of bowels and overs, and lastly, please hand me a strand of hair for DNA testing, and then after that you can have a seat in the waiting room."

And while he was saying all that (and I may have exaggerated a little about all the stuff he told me to do), Earthy Girl in Thick Glasses was ogling my cozy flowy Thai pants and asking me questions, "So...are they Thai pants? Have you been to Thailand? Do you know where you can get those here? How do you tie them? Can you show me? Do you eat Thai food? Do you know how to speak Thai? Are you Thai? You don't look Asian."

I was massively flustered. I couldn't understand the instructions that Behind-the-Desk Guy was giving me because I was trying to be polite by listening to Earthy Girl's questions. Her questions didn't make any sense because I was also trying to figure out what Behind-the-Desk-Guy was telling me to do. I was starting to get a headache, and I hadn't even entered the testing room. I reached for a pen to sign the appropriate places in front of Behind-the-Desk-Guy and answered Earthy Girl the best I could, "No, I have not been to Thailand, but I hope to visit soon. I don't know where you can get the pants here, but I did find a free pattern online, if you do any sewing."

Earthy Girl eagerly began asking me about sewing and online patterns and what kind of fabric I would recommend while Behind-the-Desk Guy mumbled something about smiling for the camera, and he took a surprise snapshot of me mid-explanation, so that the permanent photo they have of me is with one eye closed and my mouth open, althewhile donning a frazzled expression as I tried to maintain two conversations at once while also entertaining my anxiety about having arrived late and anticipating walking into a standardized computer adaptive testing situation.

And suddenly they were both shoo-shooing me into the testing room and shushing me while yapping about where my things were supposed to go and which computer would be mine and telling me, no, you can't have water in here, but here are lots of sharp pencils and some scratch paper, and go get 'em, tiger!

And just like that, there I was, in silence, staring at a green computer screen, on a monitor the size of my bedroom. And so it began, one section at a time. Argument Essay. Issue Essay. Verbal. Quantitative. And then an "optional" research section which does not affect your score and for which I "opted" out, even after reading that you could win a money prize for a high score.

I will not tell you my scores, but I will say that I am satisfied.
After the test, Earthy Girl continued the conversation about my pants. I left in high spirits, feeling like I had made a friend as well as accomplished a mighty task. I do not want to take that test again. It was sort of fun, but it was very stressful. I prefer practice tests at home with cats in my lap and no restrictions on water.

My advice to anyone taking the GRE: relax. And don't wear your Thai pants unless you are an excellent multi-tasker when under pressure.