College Algebra

For the past few months I have been studying for the College Algebra CLEP test. CLEP stands for College Level Examination Program. My reasoning was that if I had taken algebra 1 and 2 already, how much more difficult could college algebra really be? So I took a few practice tests and studied a little (precious little) and scheduled a day to take the test.

That day was yesterday.

It was about 9:00 in theory and 9:30 in actuality when Mom and I sallied forth for this test. We were well armed: I with seven forms of ID (they'd asked for two,) practice tests to review, and a good book for the drive; Mom with enough cash to satisfy the most money-hungry of test administrators and more than enough anxiety than the two of us would have needed put together.

Despite, or perhaps because of, our late start, we arrived in the city of the testing center an hour early. Mom took me to McDonald's to get me a second breakfast. She ate a sausage McMuffin and worried over me. I sipped a hot cocoa and babbled about a movie I wanted to see.

The testing center was on a college campus, but once we were in the right building, none of the faculty could point us to the CLEP testing center. Aggravation might have set in, but we were still a good half-hour early and I was comparatively relaxed.

I was still relaxed when the test administrator let me pass after merely glimpsing two of my ID's. When she took my calculator away, I was still only slightly more nervous.

Then the test started. At this point, I had mostly forgotten to be nervous. By the time I was 1/4th of the way through, my only concern was my time. I plugged away...steadily...people came and went around me. My computer was in a tiny back-lobby sort of hallway that had three offices off of it. There were students coming and going and talking and registering for who-knows-what most of the time.

And then something out of the ordinary happened. I got fidgety. The test was long and I was getting a little bored. I was tired of sitting still and answering questions. I slumped in my seat. Worked another problem. On to the next one. Sat up straight. A graphing question; easy, just subtract x from the left, that's negative slope, so it's not option E or B...I muttered mentally. At least boredom wasn't resulting in brain-frying effects.

Then I was done. I sat there nervously for a minute. What to do? According to the test administrator, my score would print off as soon as I finished. I shrugged and waited. Suddenly the printer next to me grunted and began to align itself for some task. Yep, t'was my score. I grabbed the papers eagerly and started searching them for a number, a percent, a letter grade, or anything that would reveal whether I passed. On the right were two numbers.

Score: 66

ACE Score: 50

I gulped. 50? That was the lowest passing score that College Board allowed! Equal, I think, to a C or C-. I stood in shock. The voice of the test administrator came matter-of-factly over my shoulder: "Oh! Good. You passed! 66 too. Nice work. Your mom's out here waiting for you."

Now, I am not very practiced in the art of grinning ear to ear, nor am I particularly gifted in walking ten feet in the air, but at this moment it was revealed to me that neither of these are necessarily practiced arts.

Now, only one final act remained to conclude my days of studying arithmetic.

This felt soooooo good.

Wait for it...

Sweet relief.

Wild-eyed revenge.

Satisfaction.