Archive for March 1st, 2009

This is one of those don’t-do-what-I-did posts.

I didn’t think the THEA exam, a test to show you had an adequate understanding of basic university subjects such as English and math, would be a big deal. After all I’d done well on the GRE.

The THEA website was rather hard to understand, full of prohibitions and closely printed text. I managed to get registered but I didn’t find anywhere a quick summary of the test, how long it took, what it covered. I admit I didn’t look for very long. I was busy studying for the bilingual teacher exam, a face-to-face deal which I had to take to see if there’s even a hope for me to take a dual language (Spanish and English) class some day in the future. I figured the THEA, which someone, I can’t remember who, suggested was some test that was meant to check if you knew enough to be a teacher, would be a cakewalk. Yesterday morning I showed up to the test center, at UTA, at 8 a.m. with every expectation of being out of there by ten. 

The first thing I realized was I should have brought a calculator. Somewhere in all that impenetrable text on the website they had said you could bring a four-function calculator with you. Next, the proctor began to discribe the test: reading comprehension, mathematics, writing, and evaluation of the writing of others.  We would be given five hours. 

This can’t be as bad as it seems, I told myself. I always finish tests early.  We filled in the identification portion of the answer sheet and began. 

The questions were harder than I thought they would be. Nevertheless, I felt pretty sure I was doing fine until I got to math. Why didn’t I bring a calculator! I am not bad at calculations, long multiplication and division, but this test was designed for someone with a calculator. I began to panic when I ran into a string of three algebra problems in a row, which looked like some form of quadratic equation, and not one Iknew how to solve. Why hadn’t I reviewed basic algebra and geometry, and eaten a full breakfast? I began to calculate not the answers to the problems, but what was going to happen if I failed the math component of the test.

Other worries crowded in. I had left my five year old in the care of a teenaged sibling at 7:15 a.m.. What if he was trying to run away while no one was looking? What if he was teasing the dog, about to get bitten? “Stop thinking this way,” I told myself. They had confiscated all cell phones, so it wasn’t like I could go to the restroom and call to check on them. 

Two hours gone and I was halfway through the second of four sections. Should I give up?  “Stop it,” I told myself. “Just do your best on the math, then it’s the writing and evaluation of writing, and you shouldn’t have any trouble there.  You can hurry throught those sections and you’ll have time to go back and recheck the math, which is the only part you’re really struggling.”

This is what I did. When I finished, ten minutes before the final call, most of the other test takers had left. But I had finished and done the math section twice, and had remembered how to do the algebra, so I felt most of my answers were good. I was exhausted, it was 2 p.m. and all I could think of was to go to my car, get my phone, and call home to make sure the kids were okay.

The phone rang and my daughter picked it up. “Where have you been? You said the test was only going to take a couple of hours! You can’t believe how bad they have been! When are you coming back?”

I’m coming back right now. This is my world, and every time I think I’m going to get a chance to step back and draw a deep breath, I get a reminder.