I like to pretend that I’m pretty unflappable. Life is just life, and if we don’t focus on the drama, it goes along pretty smoothly. Except that sometimes there’s often this undercurrent of emotion that shines through cracks my otherwise calm demeanor.
My 20-year high school reunion is this weekend. I’m actually pretty excited about it, considering I didn’t go to my 10 and remember only a small percentage of my 400+ graduating class.
Last night, however, I had several dreams about it. The one I remembered when I woke up this morning involved me deciding to take the LSAT again. It wasn’t entirely clear why I was doing this, because I’ve already graduated from law school, but there was some pressing need for a new test score.
I walked into the testing room, which wasn’t a big hall filled with sweaty-palmed students facing down their future life prospects. It was just me, in a small room about the size of an exam room at your veterinarian’s office – complete with the tall exam tables. The test proctor was one of my school classmates. He was someone I spent several hours a day with from 7th grade onwards in honors English, history, and math classes…maybe others.
We got to talking about the reunion and how he wasn’t going to go, even though he only lives a few miles away from the party. I was disappointed because of all the people I went to high school with the people in my honors classes are some of the people I most want to catch up with.
I started the test. The questions were printed on large posters on the wall. And they were weird. When I got to the question asking me to define a 4×4 driving technique called the “alpine crusher,” I asked this former classmate what the deal was.
He admitted that if I was willing to accept a 120 LSAT score, he could enter that score without me having to finish the test. We could then go get a drink. Since I couldn’t remember why I was taking the LSAT, it seemed like a good idea.
Then the alarm went off…