I’m about to take the most important test of my life — and for once, I don’t mean the quiz that comes in my monthly issue of Cosmopolitan.
I mean the Law School Admission Test — the exam that will definitively determine if I (a) am cut out to be a lawyer (probably not), (b) am eligible for admission into a prestigious law school (does MCC have a program?) and (c) exactly how much absurdity I can endure before deciding to forsake higher learning and enroll in Tiphanie’s School of Cosmetology instead.
According to the Law Schools Admissions Council (LSAC), the Law School Admission Test (LSAT) is a half-day standardized test required for admission into law school. But according to Megan Grace Nielsen (MGN), it is more of a Strenuous Undertaking and Complex Knowledge Scrutiny (SUCKS).
Nevertheless, after shelling out well over $1,000 for an LSAT prep course — OK, after Mom and Dad shelled out well over $1,000 — I can say that I’ve learned a thing or two about the format of the test.
First, there are three types of problems on the LSAT: logic games, logical reasoning and reading comprehension. While LSAC claims on its official Web site that these three question formats — or instruments of the devil (you decide) — “provide a standard measure of acquired reading and verbal reasoning skills,” MGN must vehemently disagree.
In the logic games section — which is by far the most fun “game” you’ll ever play — test takers draw complex diagrams of work schedules, restaurant menus, children standing in line and other sequencing activities clearly relevant to anyone who wants to be a lawyer or a federal agent. The worst part is, you don’t get partial credit for showing your work on a logic game problem — not even if you’ve included a lovely doodle of a shirtless David Duchovny.
Logical reasoning questions require you to strengthen or weaken statements, infer facts from arguments and differentiate premises from conclusions (if anyone knows how to do this or what any of the above means, please contact MGN immediately). In my $1,000 prep course, we debate the meaning of mysterious words like “nor,” “therefore,” and “thusly,” and how said words affect premises and conclusions.
Again, highly relevant to a girl who just wants a shiny badge and a gun.
If you survive the first two types of problems, you’re left with reading comprehension. Rest assured that the passages you read in your LSAT will not pertain to anything so mundane as the law. Rather, you will read scientific excerpts on prehistoric fish, competing historical perspectives on the American Revolution, or an expository on how to turn a cucumber into a pickle.
Second, the LSAT is timed. Strictly timed. By the time you struggle through a reading comprehension passage on the life of a sea sponge in the Mediterranean or diagram the November work schedule of Annie, Barbara and Clarence, 35 minutes have passed and it’s time to start section two. Some students, overly concerned with time constraints, actually bring stopwatches and timers with them to the test. This way, multiple irritating beeps and alarms can remind everyone in the room that they are running out of time and might as well sign up for the spring semester of Tiphanie’s School of Cosmetology now.
Third, the LSAT is an actual physical feat. After hunching over your Scantron like a feral, wounded animal, you’ll find yourself left with searing pain in your neck, skull and hands, and lockjaw from grinding your teeth for three hours straight. (Note to self: Pursue personal injury case against LSAC once graduated from law school.)
Clearly, the purpose of the LSAT can’t be to test potential legal knowledge — can it? Why query more than 100,000 people a year on diagramming menus and interpreting science journals instead of testing students on subject relevant to their future field — like over-billing clients, or the application of excess hair gel, or conceptualizing law firm commercials with footage of eagles, wolves and other wildlife in the background?
Here’s my guess: Essentially, if four years of a pre-law major haven’t entirely discouraged you from law school, this test is supposed to pick up the slack.
I just can’t wait to see what’s on the bar exam.
Megan Nielsen is a senior criminal justice major. She can
be reached at ASUmocktrial@aol.com.
