My First Midterm

The first Intro to Business midterm has become a semi-legendry event. On our first day of class, our professors warn us that we should expect to fail the test, and the upper classmen all have horror stories to tell. By the end of the first month, as the test looms ominously toward us, first year students begin to fall into hysterics about the ordeal; some look to be on the edge of fainting at any moment. This past Tuesday, I took that test.

At CU, large tests are taken in the Coors Event Center—a basketball stadium. I walked into the center (or more like sprinted because it was cold and raining and I seem to have some strange allergy to wearing proper coats), with a swarm of almost a thousand other Business and Accounting students. My recitation leader then greeted me at the entrance, which was oddly re-assuring—I think because he really seemed to be rooting for me to do well. He handed me a lapboard and pointed toward the entrance to the seating area.

As I walked into the stadium seating area, I noticed a new element to the testing environment I had never enjoyed before—a volleyball practice. “Oh now I understand,” I thought, “I am not paying over twenty-thousand dollars a year for the opportunity to sit in hard little plastic chairs, with a board over my lap, and take a ridiculously difficult test. I am actually paying for the live sports entertainment I get during the test.”

With a sardonic chuckle, I took my little board and my small collection of pens and pencils and walked down the endless rows of concrete steps to the front row—courtside. My friend recommended that I sit in the front row, so that I could lean my lapboard against the rails and write on it like a really steeply tilted desk. This ended up being the best test taking advice anyone has yet given me. I was able to settle back in relative comfort, while watching my fellows try to puzzle out just how one uses a lapboard. I really had it lucky—I even had a footrest on the lower rail.

I was just lounging around, watching the pre-test game, when my professor walked by and said, “Rebecca, why are you sitting here? Don’t you want to sit where there is light?” And my heart stopped. “Right,” I thought in a moment of stunningly brilliant internal dialogue, “you need light to take a test.” I glanced up to see if there were any seats left in the sparse patches of light. No luck. “I have always been a good test taker, maybe I will develop night vision under pressure!”

Luckily, I never got the chance to test this panic-born theory. When seven’ o’clock rolled around, the lights came on to their full strength. The volleyball players tossed in their balls and ended the game, and my professor stepped up to the microphone to address us all. “Good Evening,” she said, “we strongly recommend that you take the test in pen, in case you wish to dispute your grade at a later date. We are handing out the tests now. Please do not flip your test over until everyone has a copy. You have two hours. Good luck.”

And with that, the test began.

Overall, it was not that bad. Hopefully I am not forced to eat these words when I get my grade back, but the test seemed more hype than anything else. Granted, I am one of those freaks that actually enjoy taking standardized tests. But still, it was not the ordeal people made it out to be. The biggest adjustment was not the difficulty of the test, but the environment in which I took it. In a funny sort of way, I think it was better for me to take my test in a stadium—it helped me remember it is game time.