Weekend Lessons; Or, What I Learned from My SAT Prep Course

It's an established fact that my mom borrows techniques from the Tiger Mother. So it's obvious that I'd be forced into taking a Princeton Review SAT prep course.

The class began yesterday, with a diagnostic test. I'll be taking several over the course of the class, all gradually increasing in difficulty. I'm already nervous, and here's why. (You might already have an idea.)

THE ESSAY.

**sinister dum-dum-dum**

If you read proficiently, have a pretty nice vocabulary, and know proper grammar, the writing section of the test can actually be fairly enjoyable (am I a nerd to admit it was fun?) Not including the essay, of course.

The essay. For which you're asked to analyze quotes rooted in analogy and political principles and... The essay for which you're reccommended to use "examples from literature, the arts, science and technology, history, current events, or your own experience or observation."

The essay for which you're given 25 minutes.

So basically I saw the prompt, then the suggestions for examples, and I had a 15-minute blank. No kidding. Peripherally, I watched each of the students surrounding write their essays - I think all of them had finished a page by the time I began. I actually wrote my introduction and first body paragraph, then skipped to the conclusion. I was having a near heart attack.

So I definitely can't speedwrite. In other news...

Once the miniature torture session had ended, we moved onto some math, grammar, and vocabulary. And, as usual, I found something I read from the "analyze this section" quite interesting.

Basically, the passage was about scientifically using linguistic information to determine the identity of a writer, lifted from a book published in 2000. It didn't give the name, but I wanted to share this:

But none of us can easily change our basic vocabulary, our personal store of available words. Human beings, in that respect, are the prisoners of their own language. We write from within a repertoire in which certain thoughts and words and spellings are available to us while others are not.

 The idea isn't especially new. My English class actually discussed this a bit at the beginning of the year, as we covered 1984, with the government attempting to crush the language and leave citizens with extremely limited vocabularies - without the words to express their doubts, eventually unable to even conceive of rebellion.

When I read this, my thoughts actually went into a different direction. It gave me a hopeful thought, in the midst of my rattledness: that no matter the lack of progress I make, I'm still able to say things no one is able to, because of the way in which I express them. The details I choose to add. Even if I'm not certain of my point (and I'm certainly not an articulate speaker) - I can write it out, give it time, and eventually the right words will come. I don't care if this is actually how it works, it's something I choose to believe in.

So that's that. Phew! And I haven't even mentioned *grinning like an idiot* that I wrote 655 words last night, and I think I could make it a daily routine, and after 100 days I'd...

Time to end the post? I agree. I'll just leave you by saying I'm pretty excited about the copy of Dante's Inferno I just picked up. Cool illustrations, from Hieronymus Bosch to Last Judgement depictions from the Renaissance  to some Gustave Doré engravings.

Have you also been rattled by the SAT essay? Any thoughts on the quote? Cool literary editions you've picked up?