Uphill Both Ways

The other day, the Teenager registered for the SAT.

As a middle aged person who grew up pre-internet, back in the olden days when kids walked to school even when it was pouring rain outside and there were three channels on TV (maybe four) instead of hundreds, sometimes I'm tempted to pull out that old line about "back in my day, we had to walk uphill both ways in the snow for miles to get to school" when the Teenager or the Son of Never Stops Eating complains about some aspect of life they find frustrating.

In this case, however, I'd have to say the complaints are justified.

I took the SAT many, many years ago.  When I took the SAT, big hair was in, I was absolutely convinced a Duran Duran band member was going to show up at my house and ask my father for my hand in marriage, and neon was a hot fashion statement.  This is what I remember about signing up to take the SAT:

1.  I filled out a paper form with a writing implement.
2.  My mother wrote a check for the fee.
3.  We sent it in through the U.S. Postal Service.
4.  I went and took the exam.

The Teenager sat down at the family computer, and pulled up the SAT website.  Be aware, the website instructed, the process will take about forty-five minutes.  Forty-five minutes to register for a test? We looked at each other in dismay. Apparently registering for the SAT requires much information, including the name of your second grade PE instructor, your paternal grandfather's blood type, and a copy of your dental records*.  The Teenager started to express frustration at the information she was being asked to provide, much of which was requested in a somewhat nebulous way.  Perhaps that was actually part of the testing process. 

I wasn't required to provide that much information about myself the last time I bought a car. These SAT people take this testing stuff seriously. 

The Teenager muttered and mumbled her way through the registration process, occasionally stopping to ask me a question that I did not know the answer to 100% of the time.  I sat and observed her, while thinking to myself that this is good practice for adulthood.  It's your first introduction to mandatory paperwork (maybe I should say data entry) that seemingly makes no sense. 

We were asked questions about additional items that we might want to purchase.  Seriously?  I just want the Teenager to take the test.  I definitely didn't remember being asked if I wanted all that extra stuff back in 1986. Even if I had been, I grew up in the Household of Frugal so my mother would have said "no".  As the Mom of No, I said "no" as well.  I'm still not sure what we said "no" to. I hope we didn't say "no" to anything important.  I guess we'll find out.

Right before we were asked for payment, the Teenager was asked to upload a photo.  The photo had requirements, which the Teenager studied carefully.  Apparently a state-issued learner's permit is not enough ID for the SAT; your picture also goes on your entry ticket.  This precipitated some selfie-taking, some uploading to Facebook, and some other technical maneuvers to get the photo where it needed to go.  I sat and observed placidly while the Teenager expressed annoyance and irritation at the process.  Today, registering for the SAT.  Tomorrow, filing your first 1040.  My baby is growing up.

Finally, we got to the payment page.  We had successfully registered for the SAT!  Instead of writing a check, I entered my credit card number and the Teenager clicked "Submit payment".  We both sighed with relief. 

What about the ACT? I asked her.  Do you want to go ahead and sign up for that, too?

She looked at me with horror.  I think I'll wait a few days, she said.  I think this was enough for one night.  She fled from the room.

Yes, we are definitely now on the roller coaster ride that is graduating from high school and applying for college.  Rumor has it that the rest of the process is just as exciting (and here, I am being the Mom of Sarcasm). 


*Just kidding about the dental records.