My full experience taking the Law School Admissions Test

August of 2020 was when I encountered my first brush with failure in my law school application journey when I disenrolled from taking that months’ scheduled LSAT.

In order to apply to law school, every prospective student must take the law school admissions test; an exam supposedly designed to measure your ability to think critically, a skill crucial to success in law school. Though some universities have recently opted into allowing students to take the GRE in place of the LSAT, there is even stronger skepticism amongst admissions committees as to whether the GRE is an accurate means of determining a students’ readiness for law school. Thus, the Summer between my Junior and Senior years of college I decided I would embark on my LSAT journey in pursuit of the coveted 170+ score that would open the door to my admission into my dream law schools with ample scholarship money in tow — or so I thought.

Throughout college, I was a pretty good student. I earned A’s in every one of my major and minor courses (Political Science and Anthropology), which weighed my GPA in at a whopping 3.85. I found my studies extremely interesting, and school came somewhat naturally to me. I was also very involved on campus, joining student government for 2 years, becoming the Head Delegate of the Model United Nations team and the Secretary of the Political Science Students Association, and joining Greek life all while juggling multiple jobs and internships.

These characteristics would make me an excellent candidate for admissions committees, I thought. All that was missing was that perfect LSAT score, the single most determining factor of where you get into law school. Originally, I believed that my previous academic record would translate into me easily breezing through the LSAT. I never struggled with exams or school before, so why would I now? Well, unsurprisingly, I am here to report that I thought wrong.

I took my diagnostic practice test the final week of May 2021, about 2 weeks after my junior year finals came to an end. Needless to say, I was completely shocked by the results. I found the exam far more challenging than I had anticipated. I was only able to finish one section (logical reasoning) within the allotted time of 35 minutes per section and found myself guessing on many of my answers. Some of the sections, specifically logic games, looked completely foreign to me, and I struggled to understand how these bizarre scenarios I was being tested on could possibly be related to comprehending the law.

It was when I saw my score that I realized that I would have to put far more energy into this test than I originally anticipated. I scored a 151, which equated to about a 50th percentile score. In other words, 50% of test takers who had taken the same exam had scored higher and 50% had scored lower. While this wasn’t necessarily a terrible score for an initial diagnostic test, it wasn’t anywhere what I needed to get into my dream schools.

Determined to get that 170+ score, I scrounged up the majority of my savings in order to purchase an online LSAT course with BluePrint, where I would have access to pre-recorded lessons on various aspects of the exam and could utilize their diagnostic materials to see which areas I struggled in and needed to spend the most time studying. With my new study resources and a renewed determination, I was ready to dedicate the next three months to studying with no distractions. However, life had other plans.

2020 was a hard year for us all. COVID-19 was spreading rapidly, and hospitals were filling up beyond maximum capacity, leading to the loss of lives and placement of social distancing measures. Summer plans were cancelled, including my original plan to spend those 3 months interning in Washington DC. The lack of human connection and challenges to adapting to the new changes COVID-19 presented placed a strain on my mental health during a time where I felt discouraged and angsty about both my future and the future of the world. What was especially jarring was the unexpected passing of someone very close to me, and with no meaningful way to distract my mind or mourn with loved ones, I found myself handling this loss particularly poorly. It’s safe to say there were a lot of other things on my mind that Summer besides raising my LSAT score, and I found myself in a state of constant anxiety. As a result, when August rolled around and I was expected to tackle the LSAT, I didn’t feel nearly prepared or mentally present enough to do so. Though I had raised my score considerably since my initial diagnostic test, I felt it still wasn’t nearly high enough to make me a competitive applicant for the schools I wished to attend. I simply couldn’t bring myself to take it. I dis-enrolled from the exam, deciding to postpone it until November of 2020.

I thought I would be in decent shape to take the exam in November, and that being back in school (though this time virtually) would help distract me from my fears and grief and ease me back into the routine of studying. Again, I thought wrong. With classes fully online, I found myself spending more time than ever staring at a screen and was too drained to even think about dedicating an additional two hours daily for LSAT studying. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and as November slowly started to approach, I realized I still did not feel ready for the LSAT. Just a week before the test date I dis-enrolled, realizing that this decision would make it nearly impossible for me to apply to law schools by my goal time-frame of Fall 2021. After a tremendous amount of thought and contemplation (and a couple existential crises), I decided that the best option for me would be to take a gap year in order to get serious about my studying before applying to law school.

I was not enthusiastic about this option; not in the least. In fact, it wasn’t what I wanted or pictured for myself at all. When adults asked me what my plans were after college, I would always answer squarely back that I planned to go straight to law school and practice immigration or civil rights law. I never pictured myself doing anything different and couldn’t imagine not pursuing a career in law. Whether true or not, taking a gap year made me feel as though I was abandoning my dream and postponing my career. The prospect of doing so and figuring out a new plan for what I would do with this newfound time that didn’t involve law seemed terrifying to me. I felt even more lost, anxious, and disappointed in myself than ever before. I envied my peers and friends around me who completed their GRE’s and LSAT’s seemingly effortlessly and were going off to law and grad school the upcoming year. They seemed as though they had their lives all figured out while I had completely fumbled my Plan A without devising a Plan B.

With no back up plan, I realized I needed to get serious about what I was going to do with my life for the next year. I didn’t want the time to be wasted and had been warned by Professors and mentors to avoid large gaps on resumes, so I raced to Linkedin, Handshake, and Indeed where I frantically began applying to any and every job, internship, and fellowship I could find that met my interests. 30+ cover letters later, I waited around to see what would come my way.

Eventually, my prayers were answered; I landed a paid internship in Washington DC working on the Hill for my hometown Congressman. Though I was still disappointed in myself for taking a gap year, for the first time in a while I began to feel optimistic. Interning on the Hill was something I always wanted to do during college, and I eagerly awaited the few weeks before I would venture out from California to Washington DC.

— -

Four days after I graduated from college, I moved across the country to begin my 3-month long internship in a completely new city where I had only been once before (for a Model UN conference, of all things). I knew no one, which I figured would provide little distraction to my studying. I decided to view this opportunity as a fresh start doing something I was deeply interested and passionate about while grinding (studying) for my future.

I set out a regimented study schedule for the Summer that I was determined more than ever to stick to. I would go to my internship every day from 9:00 am –6:00 pm, then walk to my temporary living space where I’d study each night from 7:00 pm –9:30 pm and repeat daily. On Saturday I would take a timed practice test and then review the results of my practice test on Sunday.

Though exhausting, there was something about DC that brought a renewed energy to my studying efforts. I walked past the Supreme Court every day on my way to the Cannon House office building where I interned and would imagine the Justices’ own experiences taking the LSAT. I would picture their own struggles and failures, and how they were able to rise above them to make it to the highest court in America, and I toured local law campuses and pictured myself studying constitutional law in beautiful brick libraries. Going to law school no longer seemed like a far-off fantasy; the pinnacle of American law and politics surrounded me, and I was determined to be a part of it. This drive pushed me to study that much harder, until October arrived and it was finally time to take the exam.

— -

In the weeks leading up to the LSAT, I became increasingly anxious. All I talked about with my friends and family was taking the exam, and it constantly dominated my every thought. I was still living in DC and had just been hired to my first adult job working adjacent to the Hill at a congressional committee after months of interning. For the first time since the beginning of the pandemic, I felt as though my life was finally starting to come into place — but I knew that the biggest obstacle of all awaited.

Three weeks out I began taking practice tests twice a week, and was consistently scoring near my dream score, yet never quite hitting the 170 mark. Though lower than my original goal, I was satisfied. At that point, I just wanted to ensure that my practice test performance would translate on my official test day, and that my nerves wouldn’t get the best of me. As test day slowly crept closer, I tried to keep myself calm and put things in perspective. Worst case scenario I could always retake the exam, I told myself. I was unable to truly appease my fears. I became so filled with nerves that I started having nightmares that my mind would go completely blank on test-day and I’d forget everything I studied for the past several months. Fears aside, I continued to study diligently until the day before my LSAT.

It’s advised not to study the day before your official exam, so that Friday afternoon in mid-October I decided to tap it light by taking myself out to eat and going for a walk in one of my favorite DC neighborhoods — Adams Morgan. I put in my Airpods and walked around the city listening to my favorite songs and marveling at the White House, the monuments, and the beautiful buildings and statues that decorated the city. I remember feeling in that moment prepared, calm, optimistic and ready to conquer a test I had been diligently preparing for for the last year and a half. When I got home that night, I laid out my laptop and test materials on my kitchen table, where I would be taking the exam remotely with a proctor. I then climbed into bed at 10:00 pm, ready to take my exam the next morning at 9:00 am sharp.

That was, until I heard loud music coming from the house next door. I laid in bed for 30 minutes hoping, praying that my neighbors would turn it down — but the music played on. I wondered whether my neighbors were throwing a party, and if so whether there would be any use asking them to turn down the music for the night. I began contemplating what to do as my mind spiraled. I didn’t usually mind loud music, especially on a Friday night, but this Friday night was different. It was the night before my LSAT, and I wanted to get the best rest possible the night before what felt like the test that would dictate the trajectory of my entire career. With my PJ’s on and hair in a messy bun I walked out of my place to my neighbors’ door, giving a small knock and waiting tensely for it to open.

After several minutes of waiting, a middle-aged man came to the door. As I glimpsed past him into his home, I realized that there was no party being thrown and that no one else was with him besides his wife and dog. I felt relief- that I wasn’t imposing on a gathering, I figured that if I simply explained my situation to him, he would surely understand my position and turn his music down just for this night, right?

I introduced myself, explaining my predicament; how I was taking the law school admissions test in the morning, how I had been studying for the exam for months, and how I’d eternally appreciate if he could turn down the music just a little so that I couldn’t hear it through what felt like paper-thin walls.

As I finished explaining to him what felt like the most heart-felt version of my LSAT story, he stared. I stared back, anxiously waiting for a response. Finally, he spoke.

“Girl,” he started “tell me how long you’ve been living in this building.

I was stunned, not understanding why it mattered. “About 3 months, sir” I responded.

“Well, I’ve been living here for almost 20 years. This is my home, my block, my city, and I’d be damned if I let some girl who’s been here for 5 minutes come in here and tell me how loud I can play my music. You must have lost your mind. So no, I will not be turning down my music.”

I stared, simply shocked. I didn’t know what I said to get such a reaction out of him, or how to respond. As I contemplated my next words, his wife came to the door.

“What is going on out here, Jeff.” She was wearing a robe and slippers with a can of beer and what appeared to be a blunt in her hands.

“This girl is asking me to turn down my music because she has some little test in the morning” he replied.

It was odd hearing the word “little test” to describe what felt like the test of my life.

The woman laughed in response. “Well, you better figure that out on your own. Put some earplugs in and figure it out. Now get the hell off of our matt, and have a good night.”

With that, the door was shut in my face.

I wanted to cry, scream, anything to let out my anger and frustration. I felt the anxieties of the past months sweep over me and felt powerless in a situation in which I desperately wanted some semblance of control.

I returned to my room and took my neighbors advice, putting in ear plugs trying desperately to fall asleep, but to no avail. I contemplated my options. I considered calling up a friend and crashing at their place, but at this point it was nearly 1:00 am, and the test of the century was 8 hours away. I wouldn’t have nearly enough time to leave my apartment and arrive back home before my LSAT, where my testing environment was already set up for my proctor.

Finally, after nearly an hour of trying to fall asleep and not knowing what else to do, I decided to read about a lawyer that inspired me. I picked up my phone and started reading about the life of Thurgood Marshall, who had overcome extreme adversity in becoming the first black Supreme Court Justice. I thought about what he overcame to achieve his dream and how it paled in comparison to my minute struggles. I felt a sense of calmness wash over me, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up at 8:00 am to the sound of my alarm.

That morning I made a quick and filling breakfast and worked on some LSAT practice questions to get my brain warmed up for the mental marathon ahead; 10 logical reasoning questions, 1 reading comprehension passage, and 1 logic game. Though I got every question correct in decent timing, my nerves began to take over. As the clock continued to tick closer to 9:00, I felt my stomach turn. I ran for my kitchen trash can, vomiting the breakfast burrito I finished just minutes before.

The calmness I felt while dozing off reading about one of my role models was suddenly replaced with acute anxiety as I realized what I was about to do. I was minutes away from taking the exam of my life. I tried to breathe as I logged onto Proctor U, where I waited for my online proctor to examine my testing environment to ensure I wasn’t able to cheat during the exam. I was still mentally rattled from the encounter the night before, and my sleep certainly wasn’t the most restful I’d ever gotten. At 9:00 am on the dot my proctor appeared on the screen, checking my ID and examining my testing environment. I was good to go and cleared to take my LSAT.

Alright, this is it, I told myself. Here we go. Yet as I was about to click begin, the proctor suddenly disappeared. I groaned. Though exhausted, at this point I simply wanted to take the exam and get it over with. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. The more time I had to think, the more my mind ran rampant. As I waited for my proctor to reappear, I contemplated what to do. I was being recorded and was warned about checking my phone or making odd movements in fear that the proctor would think I was trying to cheat and would disqualify my exam.

9:15 am, 9:30, 9:45. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of sitting and waiting alone with my thoughts, my proctor reappeared. “Are you ready to begin?” I nodded and clicked begin exam.

Immediately after my LSAT, I felt a mixture of calmness and dread.

I blanked out for the entire two hours while taking my exam. When I clicked submit, I was prompted to agree that I wouldn’t share the contents of the exam or post the exam online. I scoffed, knowing I couldn’t remember a single question even if I tried.

I was sure I had scored terribly and was bothered that I had no recollection of the contents of the test. I knew that my experimental section was logic games, since there were two of those sections on my test, and I was unable to finish either of them in the allotted 35 minutes. This troubled me, as I was usually able to finish my logic games with time to spare. Reading comprehension was similar. I finished with 3 questions left unread, which I guessed on in the last 10 seconds of the exam. The only section I felt confident in was logical reasoning, which was traditionally my best section. I was able to finish that with minutes to spare. However, I was left unable to gauge how I performed.

I realized I had no choice but to play the waiting game for the next 3 weeks. Whatever happened was done, and it was out of my hands. I decided to reward myself to a night out with friends, where they surprised me with a “You put the Lit in Litigation” cookie cake. As I went out and celebrated, I attempted to subdue the internal feeling of terror and told myself that I would simply have to wait and see how I did.

— -

Three weeks later, as I opened my LSAC account to view my posted score, I felt relief flood my body. Though it was not my ideal score, it was a score I could live with.

Ultimately, there is some truth to what they say; the LSAT does matter. Admission officers put a lot of weight into your score, more weight than on any other singular part of your application. However, the LSAT is NOT the end all be all, and will not fully determine where you get into law school. Having a high GPA, your work experience and extracurricular involvement, personal statement, supplemental essays, and letters of recommendation all have a tremendous impact on where you will get in.

At this point, you may be wondering what advice I have for you in order to succeed in your own law school journey. I know I watched countless Youtube videos and reddit pages looking for that magical tip that would bring it all together.

The truth is, while there is no magic study tip, there are a couple things you can do to improve your score:

1. If you can afford it, invest in an LSAT study course. If you cannot, there are amazing free resources such as Khan Academy that you can utilize to gain access to practice tests and study materials.

2. Take multiple timed practice tests and REVIEW THEM. Practice tests are almost worthless if you don’t review what you got wrong and learn from your mistakes.

3. Make a study schedule and stick to it. You may have to sacrifice a couple of Friday nights, but it’ll be worth it in the end.

4. And lastly, don’t be so hard on yourself, and remember what the LSAT is not.

This test is NOT an indicator of who you are as a person, what you’re capable of achieving, how smart you are or even how you will perform in the legal field. People have different strengths, and multiple diverse background and talents are needed in law. And remember, if things don’t work out exactly how you pictured, that is ok too. Try not to be too glued on your Plan A that you miss out on a fantastic Plan B. In retrospect, I am so grateful that I took the gap year I didn’t initially want, because it allowed me to meet some of the most amazing people and have some of the most incredible experiences. Things have a way of working out in ways you’d never expect if you stay persistent and don’t give up.

To all my prospective law students out there, I wish you nothing but the best on your law school journey. When you are tempted to give up, think of all the amazing things you’ll do and people you’ll help with that degree. The world needs you now more than ever before.