The last time I checked the Constitution of the United States, it was explicitly expressed that there shall be no cruel and unusual punishment.
For many of my fellow students, this is apparently not the case; the Constitution seems to have skipped over one tiny item. And this punishment can be summarized in four words.
Law school admittance test
Yes, the LSAT strikes fear into the hearts of many. It is a grueling test, which examines a student’s logical and analytical prowess, all within the span of five hours.
It is painful to know that the people surrounding you, whom you wish to identify with and empathize with on that Saturday morning, are competing against you. Everyone in that room is your LSAT-score enemy.
In addition to this, all whilst preparing for this dastardly test, personal statements must be written, applications compiled, recommendations received and transcripts requested. The list is virtually boundless.
And if that’s not frightening enough, the three digits that return from the LSAT establish the next three years of your life.
If that doesn’t strike fear into the hearts of all students, I’m not sure what else can.
I took the LSAT on Oct. 4 and anxiously await my score to pop up in my e-mail inbox. I’m quite certain that tears will be shed. Whether they will be out of great sorrow or great joy is yet to be determined.
While there are those of us who bemoan our fate and situation, a certain camaraderie develops out of this. Countless tales of LSAT torture resound in many conversations: what scores were achieved, what question types people have difficulty answering, what anxiety medications all of us are on at the moment.
It is almost as if a brotherhood emerges. We bond together. We try to help one another out.
We discuss deferring to other dates or how terrible it is to wake up bright and early and drive out to Hammond because New Orleans simply doesn’t have enough testing centers for all of the hopeful law school students in this city.
We’re very easy to identify. We’re the ones with the glazed looks on our faces, roaming about campus.
We’re the ones trying to figure out, for the life of us, whether or not Rachel can room with Doris in Dorm Room 11 or if Pablo is simply off his rocker for saying that a city council should not pass a new resolution.
A bit confused? Don’t worry. You’re not alone.
There are countless others in that same boat.
However, I should not neglect my fellow seniors who are preparing to take other standardized tests, such as the GRE, MCAT or GMAT. They, too, are subject to putting their lives on the line in one scantron.
It truly amazes me that the seeming worth of a student can simply be determined by which bubbles are filled in with a No. 2 pencil.
That, to me, smacks of cruel and unusual punishment.
But future lawyers, businessmen and doctors of Loyola, do not let this harrowing tale dissuade you from seizing your destiny!
You are fully capable of conquering the beast, of bringing sharpened pencils and approved timing devices to whichever test your future fancies. All you need to do is learn this mantra and take it to heart: I’m more than a score. I’m more than a score.
And that’s the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
