Holy Lord of all the minds of all the languages and pedagogy and tests and pencils and thinking and everything else that exists out there. I started the test process roughly twelve hours ago, finished about six hours ago, and was self-diagnosed brain dead about eleven hours ago. And yes, you read that all correctly. Honestly, I don't really have the energy or capacity to recount it all, but I'm supposed to meet a friend for a drink in about an hour and a half but I can't chance falling asleep and never waking up again, so may as well do somethin' while I'm doin' nuthin'. Here's a recount of what I remember of this whole ordeal:
Last night, approximately 9:00pm: Decide to turn in for maximum preparation and sleep, after spending all day reading up on seventeenth century French literature, listening to French music and trying to cram grammar lessons on the subjunctive and memorize impressive French idioms. Begin the process of getting ready, including laundry, showering, laying out my clothes for the morning, setting the coffee pot to autobrew, preparing breakfast and snacks and water bottles, and getting my special Stephen Colbert bag ready for the morning with pencils, admission ticket and ID.
10:30pm: Finally make it in to bed, set two alarms, and go over more French by light of the phone.
11:40pm: Tell myself it's enough, it's time for bed, turn everything off.
12:15am: Freak out because I can't sleep. Toss and turn and stress about how I'm not going to sleep.
1:00am: Email Emilie again in French about my French, and put on an eyemask, trap Khaleesi, and fall asleep wondering how many hours of sleep I will actually get.
6:00am: Alarm goes off. Cuddle with Khaleesi, put on French music, and get ready, leaving with plenty of time to make it to the high school for the 7:30am call time, with the French music mix in the player
7:24am: Get to the school, surprised to find it packed and having to park far away. (Turns out ALL the CSETs and CBEST were being administered at this location). Notice that absolutely no one is carrying so much as a purse, all the test-takers are simply carrying a paper slip and a pencil. I sip my coffee furiously in the car, taking only my purse and water bottle, sad to be forced from my perfectly-packed Stephen Colbert bag, and walk in, ashamed at how lazy Californians are in their pajamas and slippers. I used to know this, but I had forgotten. I always dress for success for tests and other days of importance! Even in the drunken college beach town of Santa Barbara, where you were considered well put-together in jeans and a sweatshirt (bonus points if it was UCSB-pride), I still wouldn't go to finals in less than something like collared shirt or blazer.
7:35am: Ask a worker where to go from the mass crowd. She instructs me, but tells me my water bottle won't be allowed in as it's not clear. WOW. I return to the car, drop off the water bottle, drink more coffee, go into my room.
7:44am: CSET room for World Languages, set up for 3 people. One never shows. The other is an older Chinese man taking the test in Mandarin and is incredibly friendly and we talk and chat until the administrator comes to start our tests.
My mechanical pencils are not allowed, but she has extras. We have to show ID, and leave it visibly on the table at all times. We have to roll our thumbprint on every test. We have to print, sign, date, and write a statement certifying we are who we say we are. She sets us up for the audiosession on a CD player. Once she presses play, our test will be voided if we touch it to pause, rewind, or stop.
8:25am: Test start time. Freak out immediately as the CD starts playing, trying to tell myself to stop thinking in English and be quiet and listen, empty your mind and listen, it's just like improv. Assume nothing, be open to anything. Am absolutely shocked at how elementary and immature it seems. After watching French movies without subtitles, listening to French news and conversing in slang French with a friend, listening to an educational recording of perfect voices reciting scripted French was a breeze. It was something like hearing: "Hello, sir. I am here at the bank to take money from my account, and then I would like to ask you for directions to the mall." Despite this, my mind continues to freak, thinking "this is the test! If I miss what they say, it's over! I'm not listening to what they're saying!!"
Take a deep breath, keep my improv mind active, power through, try not to think about all the questions coming and the tests ahead of me. Audio portion ends. Move on to more multiple-choice questions on contemporary French language and text analyzation. Already notice that my brain is starting to melt around all the French. Listening to the conversation, reading the text, is one thing. But then reading all the directions in French, discerning what they want to ask you about the conversation, and reading all the options, having to figure which is best? It's starting to wear on me. I progress to some essay questions. I sincerely try not to worry about the fact that I barely two-thirds the way through one test. Start to agree with that UCI website who suggested not taking all 3 tests in one day, as it is incredibly intense. I notice my Chinese friend is moving onto the next test booklet, and though I think he is working fast, I know he's a native speaker. I check my watch.
HOLY @($&*$*&@*@&!!!!!! IT'S BEEN THREE HOURS. THREE HOURS HAVE ELAPSED. I AM STILL ON THE FIRST TEST. I ONLY HAVE TWO HOURS LEFT.
11:20am: High-tail it as much as possible. Remind myself they are individual subtests, and I'm probably not going to pass all 3 anyway. Better to make the tests I can finish as perfect as possible so I don't have to re-take, and sacrifice one if I have to.
11:30am: Move on to the second test. High-gear freaking out. Tons of multiple-choice questions on French literature, which require reading huge passages (some medieval, some from plays, some like posted signs, etc) and almost need to start skimming. Can't really consider thoroughly, need to just power through. Still, I didn't really feel like any of them were just a shot in the dark, and that was comforting. Get to the essays. I am on my third or fourth pencil by this time, having traded them in for sharpened ones once they are too nubbed down.
Essays. No time to look at the clock, just have to go for it. No time to be ovewhelmed. The only way out is through. Am really starting to mourn the fact that I'm going to have to leave the test incompleted, not having finished one, no way I'll finish at this rate. Last essay in this book is on a given passage from a work of Camus. One I didn't read in school, damn. But, I still got this. Albert Camus, pied-noir from Algeria, up there with Sartre in existentialism. My high school AP European History teacher, the only teacher to ever really teach me how to write educational essays still comes through the woodworks. Pull out everything you know. Rack up extra points for all related people, events and terms. I don't really have time for anything too proper, and I remind myself that these test-graders know it, and I'm just going to have to put down what I can. Must have mentioned existentialism 7,000 times. Don't even care, just happy to have put that all down.
12:30pm: Get to the last test. I have 45 minutes left to pound it out. Am shaky with fear that I won't finished, but absolutely floored to see the test is all on linguistics. I fly through it happily, but my French is waning. Essay portion. I have to demonstrate my knowledge of French linguistics by writing about French negation, citing examples using the French equivalent of "no one" and "never" and could not be more ecstatic. This was my specialty. I love French negation, and partly because of my confidence with it. In Bordeaux, my roommate Katie and I had a debate over it, confused about how to negate a certain phrase. We asked our landlord Veronique, who shrugged and held out her hands helplessly in that French way of hers as though saying "it's so obvious! are you helpless children? Personne ne sait!"
1:00pm: Last essay, fifteen minutes. It's a harder one on relative pronouns. I wonder if I can pull this one together. I think about how sad it would be to fail this test and lose my amazing essay on French negation and be forced to take the test again with a worse essay prompt. I pull together everything I can on relative pronouns, surprised to find I have more to say than I have room for, and therefore can't answer the question entirely (could only cite one example each, and not two as requested) I scribble in the margins out of space, out of time, vive la France! are pencils are called to be put down.
1:15pm: Can't believe I still have the oral session. Can't believe I just sat there through 120 multiple choice questions and 9-10 essays for 5 1/2 hours. It actually felt like an hour. What the hell did the proctor do that whole time?! Am horrified when the Chinese man (a native speaker, mind you!) says I pass CBEST, not sure I pass this. Holy. Moly.
Feel as though I am a CIA agent or incredibly important person of interest as we are escorted out and taken to separate rooms, (saying goodbye to our proctor who wished us luck, and to each other), and I am taken into another room, sat in front of a CD player and tape recorder, given directions, recorded my ID number, and sat, wondering if I could speak French after all that. My brain feels like mush.
I answer the first question okay, feeling very self conscious of the proctor in the room, wondering if she speaks French and will know how ridiculous I sound. I work my way through it, feeling okay. The next prompt is awful. Talking about a struggle or challenge you faced in work or at school and how you overcame it. I HATE THAT QUESTION EVEN IN ENGLISH. In interviews I sound like a bumbling idiot. That's all I can think is, I HATE THIS QUESTION EVEN IN ENGLISH. I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW. I try not to panic. I talk, I muster through it, I hate it. The CD player tells me two minutes are up, and I just laugh and say "Okay then, I'm done" in French. The proctor has me sign off on the test. We playback to make sure it recorded. I notice the nasalty from my sickness makes me sound a little more French. Nothing left to do. I'm done.
2:00ishpm: Leave. Hardly anyone is left. I worked to the very last minute. I am exhausted, I can't believe it, but I have that awesome feeling that I missed from school, like after a final, like hey, I just did that. I go sit in my car, and try to pause my brain and take a moment to relax. I throw the French CD out and celebrate with Arcade Fire, of which I had been depriving myself. I look at the mountains in the Riverside afternoon and wonder how I did.
So how did I do? I don't know. To be honest, after seeing how truly intense that CSET was, I am just proud of myself for taking it. I think it would be a miracle to expect that I passed all 3. I need a 220 score in each of the tests to pass each one. A 219 is a fail. But I think I have a shot at all of them. Thing is, all the tests sort of blurred together, so I don't remember which questions and essays went to which, which is why it's hard to say with any definity if I feel I passed any of them. But I didn't feel so out of it that I just knew I was walking out of there with my tail between my legs. I think it was a great start, and that's what I wanted out of this. Go in for all 3, give it a shot, see what happens. I am truly hopeful I'll pass at least 1, and after seeing the test and knowing now the format and how it operates, I feel much more confidant and relaxed about the idea of going back in there and repeating it. Of course, best-case scenario is that I don't have to do that at all. Especially because the test was so amazingly broad, there is no real way to study for that. I mean, things from slang, to weird maps to a question on traditions of the 19th century French theatre philosophy? Just gotta stay engrained in it I suppose. Now, a full month of guilt-free Game of Thrones and Coachella-music preparation (that's right baby!!) before I find out if I'm going to have to study up again. But hey, I did it!
FIN.
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