SAT: The Black Hole

This is my life on the SAT:

One giant, massive, black hole.

I've taken the exam exactly twice; once in June and once in October. I predicted my June SAT to a T: 1830. I wasn't upset. It wasn't my goal score by any means but it gave me something to improve by, and hey, it wasn't that far of a leap from 1830 to 2000-2100, anyway. I told myself I would study the summer away and immediately signed up for the October SAT, and never thought much about that score. 

Summer came and went. I met friends in Spain and studied in St. Louis. I casually studied over that period but began taking it seriously at the end of August, when I finally returned home. We're talking six to eight hours a day for a month and a half. It was brutal, but I knew that it would pay off.

I started taking practice tests. I took nine in total. My scores ranged from 1900-2050. Perfect. I predicted my SAT score to be a 2010/2030 and packed my trail mix and was ready to ace the test.

I got to the test and had a less than perfect proctor, who declared that water and extra batteries were 'against the rules' and an unfair advantage. Okay. No big deal, just breathe.

I completed the essay with a perfect full two pages. Solid and obscure examples. I'd been assuming I'd get a 10/12 on my practice tests and felt solidly on it.

My first reading section was a bit rocky, but manageable. That was the entire vibe of the test. Rocky, but manageable. 

The confidence boost came in the form of one of the final reading sections. It was actually, somehow, a passage I had to analyze for homework the week before and all the matching questions, with the exception of a few.

Holy crap!

I was so excited, nothing could have wiped that smile off my face.

I completed the test and felt so so so good. My math, my lowest section, must have been about a 630, a 50 point increase. My writing was a near 800 and my reading 700. I was ecstatic.

I went home, celebrated, ate some fast food, and just smiled. The feeling of pride radiated off of me.

The days to October 24th, score release day, were edging closer.

The day of, I struggled to sleep. I called it quits at 3AM and painstakingly waited. I anxiously browsed Pinterest until my the link stated 'available now' at 5AM.

I clicked it.

Subsequently, I felt as if Chuck Norris himself had roundhouse kicked me in the chest. 

I went through all the stages of grief in exactly three seconds.

These can't be my scores!

Oh my god, was it my dyslexia?

I knew I didn't study hard enough! I'm so stupid!

I'm never going to get school now...

1850. 

550/650/650. I felt so flustered and frustrated I wasn't sure where to go from here. I had every single score directed to my early action university, Yale. 

These are not Yale scores.

In Yale's Class of 2017 student pool, .1% have a math section below 600. It's safe to assume that these are recruited athletes. I rationalized it might be beneficial to become a world class lacrosse player overnight.

18% have 600's in reading and writing, but the math score was what absolutely killed me.

Thus, I did exactly what any emotionally irrational and devastated teenager would do.

I whipped out my charge card, at 5:10 AM, after a good dose of tears, and reserved my $97 spot on the November SAT wait-list.

With my dry sense of humor, I then put on my Yale sweater for school, took a few meds to cut down on my tear invoked swelling, and whipped out my barely dusty SAT books.

I'll win the fight against this black hole, despite how unlikely it is. 

I will be a Bulldog.