It’s a sign of the times. My 18 year-old nephew reports the results of his recent ACT exam by texting me. (Yes, I do text. I even Twitter…or at least understand what that means.) I reply via text but with more of an attempt to use complete sentences. His scores are up from December and he’s encouraged by a recent visit to Winona State.

I hastily pull up the ACT website, begin to log in, and the nature of the moment strikes me: “What if I were 18 and really needed to get a solid score to get into the college of my choice? What if this truly mattered?” My fingers calmly enter both username and password and within the milliseconds it takes to load a webpage, I prepare for mild disappointment.

My practice score was good – a 32, but after cruising through the English, math and reading sections on Saturday, February 7^th, I somehow lost track of time in the science section and was forced to guess on one complete passage plus a handful of other questions. I left the testing site with a feeling of triumph (43 year-old educational consultant completes ACT amid roomful of kids younger than some of his socks) and defeat (There goes any chance to better that 32). I hope for a 30 but prepare for a 28.

The milliseconds evaporate and an embarrassingly large grin spreads across my face. Thirty-one. The 23 in science knocked me down, yes, but a perfect 36 in English (c’mon, I’ve been speaking it all my life, I’d better know this stuff), a 29 in math and a 35 in reading balance it out. I’m pleased. I can’t wait to tell someone. But unlike 99.999% of the recent examinees, that special someone is my wife.

My scores are now headed to four of my favorite colleges. I don’t know exactly what transpires in a college admissions office, but it’s likely some bright, young work-study student will open a letter from ACT and begin creating a file for:

Kleese, Thomas A.

Male

Dodgeville, Wisconsin

Intended major = Business; entrepreneurial studies concentration

ACT = 31

She’ll pause upon reading that I graduated from high school in 1983, but let’s hope that 31 at least warrants the sending of a well-crafted, glossy 3” x 5” postcard to my mailbox:

“Dear Tom,

Congratulations on your recent ACT exam score. Here at Harvard we offer a variety of undergraduate majors…”

Using the equation above, solve for x. Please show your work and keep your grubby little mitts out of the answer key in the back of the text!

As the Saturday ACT exam date fast approaches, I'm experiencing a mild case of pre-test stress based on two factors: 1) the slope-intercept formula still looks like it has too many variables to me; 2) the knowledge that there will be a certain curious (if indifferent) collective turning of the heads when I enter the testing room at Dodgeville High. I have my confirmation ticket printed, I have my approved photo ID and sharpened #2 pencils. I'm skipping the use of any calculator in favor of going "old school", i.e. pencil, abacus, left hemisphere. But I'm unclear as to the state of my readiness.

Plans to study 10+ hours per week have not materialized. Sure, I've taken a few passes at sample questions and fallen asleep multiple times with a Kaplan prep guide on my chest.  But not unlike previous quests to memorize German verbs or conquer medieval intellectual history, it's become a bit of a cram session. I'll admit to a romanticized view of such things, imaging myself tucked away in corners of a wood-paneled library, stacks of open books under bent elbows. 

Tonight I fell prey to the sins of today's youth, a.k.a. YouTube and email. I never imagined it would happen to me. OMG. 

In my defense I have managed to re-learn many practical things about triangles while working full-time, managing a side business, being a Dad and working out at 5 a.m. most mornings. The folks at ACT will credit my account, right?

It's time to stop factoring polynomials and get some rest. In five hours I'll be up trying to work off those Doritos that kept me awake and alert. It just feels like such a zero sum game. But if so...that's one less equation to solve. 

Saturday, January 10th, 5:00 a.m.

While tutoring students I've taken complete sections of the exam alongside my young charges, but never an entire exam. So I woke at 4:30, ate a bowl of complex carbs (an ACT test-day best-practice), drank several cups of coffee in a hurry (NOT a best-practice), and sat down with my #2 pencils ready to begin. 

Being the self-conscious person that I am (I'm blogging, after all) I kept a sheet of scratch paper nearby with the intent of capturing my thoughts as I tested. Halfway through the first section -- English -- I felt "confident, relaxed". I added "success breeds success" and finished the 45-minute section 15 minutes early. A quick gulp of coffee and on to math. The scratch paper soon bore the marks of my calculations and my mind felt keen -- but as one difficult problem led into the next I began scrambling to keep up with the pace of one question per minute. The last 10 minutes were filled with guesses, some more educated than others. 

Reading followed math and my timing for each of the four passages was right on the mark. I finished with neither too much nor too little time remaining. Finally, science taxed my left brain once more and then it was all over before 8:00 a.m.

As a 43 year-old former college professor with a masters degree, I should expect to do well when competing with pre-college minds, right? Perhaps. But an argument can be made just as strongly that I am out of practice and my scores may come in low. (Case in point: how do you compute the distance between two points on a graph?) Somehow both sides held true. My composite score was 32, which puts me in the 99th percentile of test-takers. Not bad, I suppose. The breakdown was: English 32, math 27 (oops), reading 36 and science 34. The textual skills are still sharp (thanks in part to reading 1000's of essays and exams over the past ten years) but the math is shaky. So that's where I'll spend the bulk of my study time over the next four weeks.

And I think I'll try to find a better balance of complex carbs and caffeine. 

This is no joke, and I can do without the "can't teach an old dog new tricks" snide remarks. I've been working with students to help them prepare for the ACT and it occurred to me -- why not take it yourself? Put your money where your mouth is, so to speak. Build some academic street cred.

Okay, I'll do it. Actually I just did it. On Saturday, February 9th, I will just one of many anxious test-takers at Dodgeville High School, and when the clock strikes 8:00 a.m., my pencils will be sharp and ready to mark in the correct ovals for the next three hours.

That's a mere 32 days and nine hours from now, which computes to 777 hours in between now and then to prepare. Sounds like a good number to me -- or a plane crash waiting to happen. The best part is that just like those young charges I tutor...it all depends upon me. 

It's going to be a late night because I have some geometry to relearn. (Have they changed anything since 1979?)

So you nailed a 31 on your ACT. Life is good. But maybe you just broke up with your boyfriend, your basketball team lost by 45 to a school so small the mascot does double-duty as a point guard, and the career assessment you took says you’ve got the skills to be a pilot – or a shepherd. And somewhere in there you sat for three and half hours in a cold room on a Saturday and the score you got back is, well, less than expected. What now? Can you still get into a good school with a bad test score? What does an ACT or SAT score really mean?

According to a survey conducted by the Independent Educational Consultants Association, the consultants who work with high school students in the college admissions process place “solid scores on standardized tests…consistent with high school performance” third on their “Top Ten Strengths and Experiences College Look for in High School Students”. The top two are:

1.   A rigorous high school curriculum that challenges the student and may include AP (advanced placement) or IB (international baccalaureate) classes;

2.   Grades that represent strong effort and an upward trend.

So it’s curriculum, grades, then test scores. Got it.

But another way to look at it is like this: good test scores alone won’t get you into college, but they’ll keep you in the conversation longer at the more selective schools. And a healthy test score can also increase your chances for scholarships, regardless of the school you choose. The key, then, is to align test scores with all the other hard work you’ve put forth and not allow an admissions officer to move you to the reject pile because of a bad Saturday morning’s performance.

In my days of youth and with much healthier knees, I enjoyed or at least participated in running as a sport. As a former wrestler and lineman in football, I was not blessed with a gazelle’s body, but I was able to will my body to do things for which it was not designed. This will to run culminated in my entering and completing three full marathons, and the secret to training for a 26.2 jog in the park is remarkably similar to preparing yourself for the ACT or SAT.

Once a week I would venture out on a long, slow run, beginning with an hour and then adding five or ten minutes to the total time each week. More important than the frequency or intensity of my training schedule was this single exercise because it helped acclimate my body to the pounding it would receive when the real thing occurred. For an amateur like me, 26.2 miles took four hours and those practice runs prepared me for the strain, both physical and mental, that awaited me on race day. Strange as it may seem, boredom is just as much a threat as a turned ankle.

Last weekend I administered a practice ACT exam to six students: two juniors, three sophomores and even one eight-grader. I simulated as best as possible the actual test conditions they will face including an 8:00 a.m. start time, a very limited number of breaks, the prohibition of food or drink during the exam, and even a threat to tear up the test should an errant cell phone interrupt the concentration of the others. Those (and many more) are genuine restrictions that will be placed upon them when they sit for the real thing, and so it makes sense to follow the same guidelines now. All the study time in the world will not help if Johnny finds himself growing weary halfway through, or forgetting to answer all questions (there is no penalty for wrong answers unlike the SAT).

So the key here is practice, and the type of practice that is unfamiliar and frankly quite unfriendly to most kids. (I’m sure there was some envy of the test-takers' friends who were sleeping in on that Saturday.) But when those two juniors sit down this Saturday and open up their authentic test booklet and start marking little ovals, the notion that “I’ve been here before and this looks familiar” will put them miles ahead of their peers. And in the ACT or a marathon, any reduced distance between you and the finish line is a good thing.

In her book, “The Truth about Getting In”, founder of the Manhattan-based educational consulting firm IvyWise Katherine Cohen describes standardized testing as “a necessary evil”. She offers a dim view of both the SAT and the ACT and asks aloud if they are antiquated, biased and basically worthless. Her argument seems to fall within the general category of education bashing, and while I respect both her opinion and her expertise in the college admissions process, I’d propose a slightly less negative assessment of testing. Instead of necessary evil, perhaps we can view it as a learning experience.

Cohen includes an editorial from The Brighton-Pittsford Post which states “the ability to take multiple-choice tests is not a skill that will get a person very far in life, at least not beyond college”. It’s a valid point. As a professor I’ve never been given a multiple choice question on an interview or job review, but the skills involved in choosing one of several options from a ready-made list actually comes in quite handy and more often than one might imagine. Examples include decisions on which digital camera to purchase, which cell phone plan fits my needs (none) and even which mutual fund will carry me into retirement. After all, not every question has unlimited choices.

Granted, choosing a mutual fund is not a split decision based on a simple formula or paragraph; but here’s the real lesson: standardized tests, college courses, jobs and even life are full of “necessary evils”, a.k.a. learning experiences. We can fight the powers that be and try to change the system, which is sometimes the best and most honorable way to go. Or we can recognize the need for change, and then put forth our best effort. A very good book says, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart.” The writer of Colossians didn’t have the ACT in mind, but I’m sure there were other necessary evils in those days.

In future articles we’ll dig into this testing issue more deeply. Until then, you may:

1. Continue reading other blogs;
2. Write your own angry editorial;
3. Talk to me about how best to prepare your son or daughter for standardized testing;
4. All of the above.

To be quite honest, I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. Who wants to admit a weakness? But the need for positive change and some form of plan to get from here to there make absolute sense. What would a resolution for a college-bound student look like? How about a parent? Is it possible to write resolutions that are energizing, empowering and stand a chance of being accomplished without the unwanted pressure and lowered expectations? I think so, and in the spirit of camaraderie (or the notion that misery loves company) I’ll offer this.

I resolve to read one “Great Book” a month with my son, Jackson.

In a nutshell, Great Books are the classics of Western thought, from Greek philosophers to 20th century authors. Jack’s college search is a few years off (he will graduate from high school in 2017) but he’s already talking about going to school in either Boston or New York. Let’s see…MIT is nice if he’s an engineer, Columbia has that tremendous “core” program for freshmen, Harvard’s residential college system is among my favorites, NYU is nice if he wants to be down in the Village…

I sometimes get ahead of myself. So for now we’ll just focus on The Iliad, which I think he’ll love since he’s a big fan of warriors, epic battles and heroes. And I suspect I’ll enjoy it more as I read it partially through his eyes. I look forward to our conversations and the places they’ll take us throughout 2008. I guess these resolutions aren’t so bad after all.

The joy and wonder you experienced while watching your little one take her first steps may be a distant memory as you watch her shuffle off to high school; but the “low expectations, high reward” attitude of those first steps is exactly what you need as you begin the daunting task of finding the right college for your child. It all starts with three easy but critical steps:

1 Talk about it. Simpler said than done, right? Of course, but college planning is a shared responsibility and absolutely nothing will happen by chance. Take time, whether it on the way to practice, at the dinner table or on a Sunday afternoon, and ask simple, open-ended questions such as: “What have you been thinking about where you might like to go to college?” or “Where do you see yourself five years from now?” Avoid yes or no questions which may come across as looking for right or wrong answers. There are very few right and wrongs at this point in the process, and the goal is simply to establish open dialogue.

2 Put some boots on campus. If you have a college nearby, take an afternoon to visit, even without any formal contact with the admissions office. If you’re already headed there for an athletic event of performance, add an extra hour and go for an ice cream or late night sandwich in the student union. This is as good for seventh graders as it is for seventeen-year-olds.

3 Be the one to bring up the M-word. Look your teenager straight in the eye and say, “College costs a lot of money and we don’t have enough saved to pay for the whole price tag – but here’s what we’re thinking…” Talk openly about money and show your commitment to higher education by communicating a long-term value approach. If you’re looking for a way to say it that everyone in the family can remember, perhaps you can borrow the words of Lyndon B. Johnson, “Education is not an expense…it is an investment.”

These three baby steps won’t get you all the way to the freshmen dorms, but they will start you on the right path towards a healthy, productive college search. And if done well, there may even be more of that same joy and wonder you experienced all those years ago.