I am a terrible test-taker. It’s not that I’m smart and don’t test well, it’s that I’m not smart and really don’t test well. After openly admitting I was a bad test-taker, I was told by a dean of a prestigious university out east that I certainly would be accepted at the school for the masters in journalism program, even despite a low standardized test score. Then I took the test and got rejected. I inquired. “Not that low,” the dean told me. I retook the test and, well, with the sudden pressure of added expectations to perform better, I bombed even worse. I should study. I used to study but discovered over the years it didn’t raise my score in any meaningful way, so I stopped studying in the hopes that “going in fresh” might help but it did not.
Tests don’t matter in the real world until you need a job, somewhat badly, and you apply to be one of those people going door-to-door doing the census count.
So basically what I’m saying is, I had to take a test.