By: Claire Kozma (’22)
I remember dusting off my brother’s old SAT prep book from the basement in the beginning of my months-long SAT slog. I felt an overwhelming rush of intimidation: this thing must be 10 pounds. Inside were already a plethora of folded pages, red and black pen markings, and math scribbles.
It was the winter of 2021, in the midst of a large COVID-19 spike, SAT test center closings, and a full year of virtual school–for me, it was my junior year. At that point, not only did I have to navigate scheduling an SAT test as the seats filled quickly, but I had to keep myself safe, especially since the vaccine hadn’t yet been approved for people my age. Through isolation, the nudging of deadlines and scores, and AP coursework, the stress of life was debilitating. The SAT only added to the mess.
A number of universities announced a “test optional” option for students applying for admission, however, I had a nagging worry: am I hindering my chances of being admitted without a score? A large number of students shared the same concern; many felt that they couldn’t “compete at their best” without an SAT score as “proof” of qualification. I felt unsure.
Regardless of any independent college’s decision, for the millions still taking the test, why has – even amidst a global pandemic–the testing process that students are coerced to endure remained almost completely unchanged? Think about this for a moment.
Through worldwide school shutdowns, deaths, and millions out of work, what I found most startling was how unaltered the SAT process was. Sign-ups for tests were in full swing. Like I mentioned before, seats were still being taken rapidly. Social media continued to be filled with ads for classes: “We guarantee a 1500+!” or “Get into college with a perfect score!”. People paid for private tutors, signed up for the ACT and/or SAT several times, and bought every prep book available online. The students who chose to post their scores online–most of which were nearly perfect–seemed to have these resources. As a student existing in isolation, the world of standardized testing seemed to hurdle forward faster than I could keep up.
Particularly in a time when we’re completely shifted digitally, viewing these numbers, ads, and posts frequently on social media created a tremendous amount of pressure to perform and invest. As a person who didn’t spend money on prep, I felt unsettled, as if I were doing something wrong or missing something. I’m definitely not alone: many students feel that they can’t achieve a “good enough score” if they don’t throw $1,000 into a “premium” prep class. I also didn’t feel safe going to in-person prep classes, not to mention sit for a real SAT test. It was a stretch for me, as I was in contact with at-risk people in my home.
Here’s the catch about pricey SAT prep classes: they teach students how to memorize the test mechanics, not improve on their academic skills. They show students how to see through the questions, not actually understand a passage. Students, then, spend money to “train” how to beat the test, not how to grow as a critical thinker. What does this say about the SAT metrics itself, then? Exactly – it’s a game.
On the day of my first SAT in the spring of 2021, I drove 45 minutes to the nearest testing center. I was jittery. I was required to bring an ID, TI-84, No. 2 pencils, and a mask (which I had brought 4, just in case). This was the first time I’d gone out publicly for a year – to the day. Taking the test put me in a high-risk situation: I had never been to the location, nor knew any of the people there. At seven in the morning, I found myself clumped with over a hundred people. I was then placed in a room of 30 others for over five hours. My glasses were fogging up, my head was spinning–some of which was induced by the test, yes, but much of it was the fact I was surrounded by strangers during a major spike of the pandemic. I put a lot of trust into my mask.
I’m unsettled to know that millions of other kids are also impacted negatively by the standardized testing process, on top of the pandemic we continue to battle. Similar to what I felt on my test day, students are anxious about a multitude of things. And the cost? We can acknowledge the financial burden of test taking and prep (which, by the way, is unreasonable for many families), but I’m referring to the less discussed cost: self esteem.
Amidst the noise, my self confidence became tangled with these numbers and scores floating around, which although arbitrary, had been pushed into my head so many times that I slowly began to feel behind. On top of my schoolwork, expectations at home, and COVID-19, standardized testing only added to my isolation. My mental and physical health suffered tremendously.
Unfortunately, my experience is an extremely common one.
What we continue to dig through is no easy feat. I want to emphasize checking in with those around you as we maneuver the pandemic; it’s incredibly important to give ourselves space to process emotions. I hope my experience sheds light on the deeper harm of standardized testing, especially to students simultaneously facing the uncertainty of COVID-19. What students continue to endure cannot go unspoken.