Monday, June 04, 2007

GRE! GRE! Man I'm glad I'm done with the GRE!

4 hours my aching butt - Started at 3:30 and I was done by 6:00. And they did let you out for bathroom breaks, although I got the feeling that if you wanted to go every 15 minutes they'd say no - but once or twice throughout the test is ok. I had to lock everything in a locker out front before going into the testing room, they gave me 2 pencils and 5 pages of scratch paper and I had to keep my ID on the desk where the guy walking around the room could make sure I was still me. I had to sign in and put down the time when I entered, when I went to pee, when I came back from peeing and when I left. Oh, and I had to show him my ID each time too. Man, they wanted to make sure I was taking my own test. But I guess I did pretty good. It gives you the scored at the end of the test - for the Language and Quantative parts, not the essays - and since I'm not allowed to keep my scratch paper (I might give away some secrets I wrote on there) as I was copying my scores onto a post-it note he gave me he said I got pretty good scores. 540 on the language part and 780 on the quantative (that means Math) part. He said the 780 is almost a perfect score, which is good since I taught Math for 13 out of the last 14 years. Anyway - enough bragging. My mind is brain dead and it's time to veg out to CSI, the 2nd season. Have a good one.

8 comments:

nikita4773 said...

Brag, Brag, Brag :)

Max said...

Nikita, I was hoping you would be too tired to get on and give me crap for bragging. But alas, I'm not that lucky...... keep smiling, and be nice to those kids tomorrow....

A Paperback Writer said...

Ok, so I'd get about 80 on the math part... unless they kept giving me stuff about figuring grading scales and percentages. I rock at that. I just couldn't solve a calculus problem to save my life anymore.
Now, essays I could do just fine.
Congrats on surviving and getting good scores.
I left a comment about your comment about the puppy poster on my blog, but then I figured you wouldn't read it, so I'm putting it here:

It's not like I never interrupted your class, you know.
Actually, I can't ever recall getting upset that you interrupted my class. And I really miss being able to run next door and share some dumb thing a kid did with you. Sigh... Those were the days.
Remember when we fooled half of the 8th grade with the marriage proposal? Remember when I kissed you on the cheek and your class didn't settle down for 10 minutes? Remember the 2 kids who hit each other running to make it to class and bounced about 5 feet?
Good times. I miss them.

Max said...

Hey, ever since school's been out and I have my life back, I've been getting around to your neck of the virtual woods almost every day. Just because I'm a total ignoramus in matters of the literary ilk does not mean I don't drop by. Just means that I've given up on being funny by looking stupid, and prefer using my understanding to be funny. (I know that sounds irritated and arrogant, but I promise it's supposed to be sarcastic and amusing).

A Paperback Writer said...

Hey, you're a teacher. You're supposed to be good at looking stupid in public. I know I excell at that.
A blooper from this year:
Looking over the 9GT chart of who's supposed to present what on Shakespeare that day, thinking that we really needed to see both the presentation on the Bubonic Plague (Mitch) and the Pneumonic Plague (Devin), I say to the class, "Well, Devin's got his DVD ready, but I'd really like to do Mitch today." Oh my. Not something you say to 9th graders.
And since you are in my neck of the woods, I'm thinking of buying a digital camera to take to Cambridge next month so I can post photos on my blog. Can I call you for some recommendations? I have no clue what I need and no one in my family owns a digital camera.

Max said...

Hey Writer,
Go ahead, give me a call, no problem helping you with picking out a good camera.
One of my favorites comes from a couple years ago (right after I left your school), but it wasn't my faux pas. I've told this one before, but even if you've heard it, it's worth repeating.
Jesse was on a "dude" kick, calling everyone dude. He'd raise his hand and ask me "Dude, how'd you do that?" Well, after about the 13th time, he comes up with "Hey, dudette, how'd you do that". When I inform him that I'm a dude, not a dudette, sitting right behind him, Vance blurts out "Prove it!" Never laughed so hard.

A Paperback Writer said...

I have a good one to match your "dude" story, and it didn't even happen at school.
I was in Italy on a dance tour. A former student, Zak, (then 16) was a guitar player with the bluegrass band that went with us. The translator for our group, Ivan (a supremely cool Italian 20-something year old) liked hanging around with Zak, me, and my then-husband (he-who-must-not-be-named). Zak kept calling Ivan and the Ex "studs." Ivan didn't know what that meant, so I filled him in with "Well, it's a male horse used for breeding, so if he calls you a stud, it means you're macho and cool." Just try to imagine the look on Ivan's face when Zak called me a stud as a compliment later on. The memory still makes me laugh.

Ed Byrnes said...

Hi Steve,

Congratulations on the GRE. When I was prepping for it I spent about three weeks in self imposed immersion.

Here is my GRE story:

I took the general exam in the morning, went to lunch, then took my subject advanced exam that same afternoon; so basically about six hours of testing.

It gets better...

Cara and I had begun dating about six weeks before this and all was going very well, so I decided to take all of my possible life stressors in one massive dose. After the test (and, of course, my two bottles of beer in the truck driving from the U to Murray) Cara and I drove up to Logan where I met her parents for the first time.

The first thing her father asked me was how the GRE went, immediately followed by "What do you like to drink?" Well, nearly twelve years and two beautiful boys later I must say alls well that ends well.

Your GRE ended really well and I am proud of you.

Love,
Ed Byrnes