COLUMN: A test without a curve

From Ariel Horn's, "Candy from a Stranger," Fall '00 From Ariel Horn's, "Candy from a Stranger," Fall '00This week I'm stocking up on highlighters and notecards. I'm going to be that annoying person you hate that buys out the entire store so that when you want a highlighter, you're forced to settle for a crappy red pen instead. When my exams are finally over, I'll leave school happy that it's summer and content that I was able to wrap up the semester in a tidy little educated bundle. Once my exams are over, I'll be able to look back on my year, satisfied. I learned some new things. My tuition money has done its job. Truth be told, though, I'm not so sure I will be as satisfied as I could be. Unlike the rare sponge who can name all of the English monarchs in order after they've taken the AP European History exam, I am the kind of student who forgets factual information once I've taken the exam. If you asked me today to explain the Hubble Constant, I'd probably change the subject despite the fact that I took Astronomy just last semester. If you asked me to tell you the dates of the Hellenistic period, I'd make a rough guesstimate but would still be unsure despite two consecutive years of Art History courses. And don't even think about asking me about mathematical equations. You might as well ask me if I can recite the names of all the countries in Europe in reverse alphabetical order in under 30 seconds -- I just don't know. Someone once told me that goldfish have a memory of just over 30 seconds. My memory for factual data from classes is about 30 days. Once those 30 days after the exam are over, I'm swimming contentedly in my fishbowl, enjoying the view as if I were taking it all in for the first time again. If only I could be the sponge that cleans the bowl, then I could absorb the material. (Never before have I wanted to be a magnet for bacteria as I do during exams.) But the fact of the matter is, I can't be that sponge. When I leave school, it's usually not the facts I remember, but what I learned outside the classroom. Despite hours laboring over meticulous outlines and notecards, the real final exam I feel prepared for is not multiple choice, an essay, a take-home or a short answer -- it's a real-life exam that questions the life lessons I've learned over the year. This final exam tests who I am as a person. It isn't about how many facts I can spit out or how long I'll remember them; it's about how much I've learned about myself as a person and how I can grow from that. Grad schools may not care about the grade I get on my personal final, but it's the only final that really matters in the end. Admittedly, I'm not so sure I would pass my personal exam with flying colors this year. I've screwed up -- a lot. I might even take the royal cop-out route and request a make-up exam. I've hurt people inadvertently because I was stubborn and selfish, I've been reluctant to hear others' sides of the argument, I've given up too quickly on people and I've limited myself too early. I've sneered when I should have listened, laughed when I should have counseled and grown self-absorbed when I should have been caring. These are things for which I fault myself. But in recognizing how I've disappointed myself, I've realized what no class could ever teach me: the power of individuality, the importance of sticking to what you believe in despite the idiocy that can surround you, and compromise. I couldn't have learned these things in the classroom. They're lessons that my real classes and final exams fail to teach me. And they're the only lessons in life that are always worth remembering. So as you study for exams this week, remember what counts. You can outline everything and make notecards and highlight -- but the real final exam doesn't need a No. 2 pencil.