High-School Senior: I Took the SAT Again After 41 Years
To the 1.5 million teenagers who will fret, cram and agonize over taking the most widely used college-entrance exam, the SAT, over the next 12 months, I have something to say: I'm right there with you.
On a challenge from my teenage son, I took the SAT earlier this month to see how a 57-year-old mom would do. My son says today's teens have to be smarter, faster and more competitive to succeed. I suspect he's right; I haven't been able to help my kids with their math homework since eighth grade. Moreover, in the 41 years since I took the SAT, our culture and the expectations surrounding the exam have changed drastically. To see how I'd measure up, I swallowed my fears, crammed for six weeks and took the test May 2.
Cristin J. O'Connor Life for teens is indeed harder, my experiment taught me, but not in the way I expected. Aging took a toll on my mental abilities, to be sure, but I was able to erase most of the losses by studying. What surprised me more were the psychological hurdles. Coping with the ramped-up expectations and competitiveness that infuse the SAT process -- a reflection of our entire culture -- sent me into a tailspin of adolescent regression, procrastination and sloppy study habits, all the behaviors I've taught my children to avoid. What I learned will make me a more tolerant parent.
Some reflections from a diary I kept:
March 11: I begin my experiment in high spirits. Friends, colleagues and news sources express amazement when I tell them I took this challenge. "What were you thinking?" asks Jason Brandt, a professor of psychiatry and neurology at Johns Hopkins University, laughing. "I would never do that." A friend asks point-blank, "Are you crazy?"
I start sobering up all too soon. When I signed up for the SAT in 1967, I recall mailing in a brief paper form with a few facts. Today, as I sign up on CollegeBoard.com, the Web site of the New York-based nonprofit that oversees the SAT, the process includes a questionnaire with boxes to check off no less than 25 different kinds of advanced-placement classes I've taken (I took none in high school), 41 types of college credit already earned in high school (none again), and 24 categories of extracurricular activities (I have two). I feel like a slacker already.
March 18: My entire preparation for the SAT in 1967 consisted of setting my wind-up alarm clock the night before. I up the ante this time, but only to the level of an average teen, bypassing costly test-prep courses in favor of studying the College Board's $19.95 "Official SAT Study Guide." Even though this amounts to Test-Prep Lite, the two-inch-thick Study Guide is still fatter than any textbook I ever had. Other test-takers, I realize, are doing far more.
![[SAT scores]](http://s.wsj.net/public/resources/images/PJ-AP902_pjWORK_NS_20090526214431.gif)
Cristin J. O'Connor I expect my mental skills to be rusty, but I'm not prepared for the results of my first math practice test. The College Board says the SAT hasn't gotten harder; It still measures skills students are learning in the high-school classroom, a spokeswoman says. But this time around I score in the 430-to-490 range out of a possible 800 in math, a drop of 23% to 33% from my 1967 score of 640, after adjustment to reflect changes in scoring. Using the wealth of admissions data available online, I learn that if I were actually applying to colleges, that score would put me well on my way to getting rejected by my undergraduate alma mater, Michigan State University. I'm glad nothing hinges on this test but my pride.
April 1: I plan my studies to track a high-schooler's day, doing my job while students are in class and studying nights and weekends. I assume my adult work habits will serve me well. But I've forgotten that today's teens are already toned up for far longer workdays than I ever put in at their age. The average student's homework time rose 50% between 1982 and 2003 alone, research has shown.
One day typical of a high-school athlete, for example, leaves me down for the count. I rise at 5:30 a.m., the same time as my son, then work while he's in class. After school, he runs several events at a rainy four-hour track meet while I too stand in the rain, as a parent volunteer. Chilled, wet and exhausted, we drive home and both sit down to study at 9 p.m. Twenty minutes later, I'm toast. I head for bed, while he studies another two hours. When I complain the next morning, he laughs. "Welcome to my world," he says.
April 24: I am far behind my original study plan, completing only five of the Study Guide's eight practice tests. My study habits have gone down the tubes. I started out working in a disciplined way at our quiet, well-lighted kitchen table. But I'm becoming frustrated with this thankless process. After learning a math concept one night, I've forgotten it by the next; my brain seems to lack a holding bin. Anxiety over functions and formulas is ever-present. Slicing a grilled-cheese sandwich diagonally, I find myself pondering the length of the hypotenuse.
I abandon the bright, orderly kitchen table and kick back on the couch. With the TV babbling, a snack in hand and my feet on the coffee table, I leaf through the Study Guide lackadaisically. My inner parent rages: "Turn off that TV! Put away those chips! Don't you realize the SAT is only a week away?" But my inner teenager ignores her. The studying is so taxing, I realize, that I'm yearning for small comforts.
May 2: Test Day. Arriving early at the test location for a last-minute math review, I see SUVs pull in with two parents inside with their teens. Taking the SAT has become a family affair. The buzz among today's 200-plus test takers is about college admissions hurdles and hoped-for test scores.
"What are you doing here?" asks a teen in a neighboring desk, more curious than critical. I explain that I accepted a challenge from my son. "Cool!" he says. But his and others' moods grow grimmer as we dive into the 3-hour-45-minute exam. With my brain grinding as slowly as a 1979 mainframe, I freeze during the first of several math sections and blow at least three problems from anxiety. What am I doing here?
Between sections, my neighboring test takers put their heads down on their desks in apparent misery. The students commiserate on breaks. "I blew that section," I overhear one say, "but I can take the test again." I grimace at the thought.
A muted cheer breaks out when the proctor announces the final section. After we finish and are dismissed, we all race out as if the room were on fire. I've not a thought left in my head. Driving away, I jump a curb. My son awaits at home. "How'd it go?" he asks. I stare at him blankly. I am speechless. Tabula rasa. Pummeled into a sense of inadequacy, I hear the words "awful, I think," come out of my mouth, the longest sentence I will utter for the rest of the day.
Mid-May: I ask neuroscientists who specialize in cognitive aging why studying was such a struggle. Denise Park, a professor of cognitive neuroscience at the University of Texas, Dallas, says my day-to-day problems remembering new material were typical. "Older people have to work harder to learn new information, and be more strategic about it," she says. "You're not going to be as efficient as you were when you were younger."
I should be prepared for a decline in my math scores, says Timothy Salthouse, a psychology professor at University of Virginia, Charlottesville. Most adults experience "some forgetting, and disuse, of mathematics" if they don't work in math-related fields, he says. Also, "the brain does slow down with age, and people tend to be less mentally flexible" with problems that require analytical or abstract reasoning.
But Dr. Park says my verbal scores will probably go up, as accumulated knowledge and skill offset the slowdown in my cognitive hardware.
May 21: I log anxiously onto CollegeBoard.com for my results. Score one for old people! I've scored 800 on the verbal or "critical reading" section, about the same as in 1967, after adjustment. To my dismay as a professional writer, I earn only 10 out of 12 possible points on the essay. (Will this lapse be reflected in my next performance review?) When I find the courage to peek at my math score, I see that it has fallen, not as badly as the practice test, to 600, down 6.25% from 1967. I call Molly Wagster, chief of the neuropsychology of aging branch of the National Institute on Aging, for comment, and she encourages me to regard this as a triumph.
The fact that I could erase most of my cognitive losses with study proves older people "shouldn't be deterred from continuing to push forward on all sorts of adventures, including feeling that we're competent" to tackle new mental challenges, she says. Even something as nuts as retaking the SAT? I ask. Yes, she replies -- even that.
For now, though, I've had enough cognitive adventures. The experiment has afforded my son a lot of laughs. He says he's proud of me. And I'm saying goodbye to the SAT, for life. And to the 1.5 million teens who are only starting this process: Godspeed. May the adults around you have compassion.
