[We're following one post-grad as she grabs that diploma, packs up her college life and heads on out to the big, bad world. There's a lot of change comin' her way and one big challenge: The LSAT.]

So, it’s crunch time. From this point on until October 9^th, my life is really about one thing and one thing only – the LSAT. Of course, I will still have everyday life to live, but from this point on my post-grad life really is going to be dictated by what I am convinced to be as one of the most evil tests in all of existence.

And I’ll be the first to admit – I am terrified. I’m absolutely shaking in my Rainbow flip flops at the thought of one test having so much power over my life.

You gotta do what you gotta do though, right? And what I have to do is do well enough on the test in October, so I don’t have to take it again in December, and come out with a score that satisfies me enough to get into a good law school for Fall 2011 admissions.

A lot is riding upon this exam. If you aren’t familiar with the whole “getting into law school business of admissions,” the LSAT is the end-all-be-all factor in admissions. According to Top Law Schools.com, “Your undergraduate GPA and LSAT score are the two most significant factors that admissions committees look at. The fact that a four hour standardized test carries as much, if not more, weight than four years of classes should tell you how important the LSAT is.” Yikes! Read More »

The building looked like any other corporate office building in America. As I pulled into the parking lot, my eyes scanned the area and I prayed I was at the right place. The innocuous sign on the door said “Prometric Learning Center, Suite 100,” as though it were any other suite in any building in corporate America. I parked my car, took a deep breath to prepare myself, and walked inside. A sign informed me that everything on the premises was video monitored and that by stepping inside I was giving my consent to appear on the footage.

Stepping inside, I couldn’t tell whether I was in a doctor’s waiting room or the locker area of a gym. To the right were chairs arranged in a tight circle, magazines scattered about the area; on the opposing wall there stood a row of rusted lockers.

A sign directed me to the front desk where a young man asked for my ID, and upon being certain that I was who I claimed to be, offered me a clipboard. I signed the honor code, promising that I would not use any forbidden study materials or divulge the contents of any question on the test. The specific rules for the GRE and testing in the center were stated on a piece of paper behind the one I’d signed, reminding me that nothing was allowed into the testing room with me, that study materials could not be used at any time after the test began, and that during my 10 minute break (if I wished to take said break) I could not leave the facility. Read More »