On Oct. 22, I took the PSAT for my third and final time. I’ve never been someone who places significant importance upon standardized testing, especially because testing isn’t really my strong suit, but over the past three years at this school, I’ve noticed that my apathy toward PSAT scores is relatively rare. 

In each of my classes –especially the honors and AP courses I’ve taken– I’ve seen people use their PSAT scores as a means of comparison among one another. I’ve seen people react with undue dejection when they don’t score as highly as their peers. And above all else, I’ve seen people talk down to others who didn’t earn an outcome as “good” as theirs. 

I’m a junior now, and PSAT scores will be out within the next few weeks. But while I’m not dreading the release of the results themselves, I am dreading the ensuing toxic behavior and needless academic comparison more than anything else.

I can understand why people care about their PSAT and SAT scores to a certain extent. After all, SAT scores are submitted to universities as a part of the college application process in many instances. However, in a trend galvanized by the Covid-19 pandemic, more and more schools each year are reverting to a test-optional policy. According to an article from “Inside Higher Ed,” only 4% of colleges across the country that abide by the Common Application apparatus require SAT or ACT scores to be submitted. This statistic highlights how misplaced the high value attributed to these test scores truly is. The same article also says students’ GPA is a better predictor of success than standardized testing results. 

So if these scores aren’t a good indicator of achievement, why do students place so much emphasis on them? Year after year, I’ve seen upperclassmen upset over their SAT results and underclassmen treat their PSAT outcome like it’s a worthy criterion of measuring their self-esteem. But 96% of schools across the USA don’t require high schoolers to submit their test scores when applying, and colleges and universities often don’t even look at PSAT results. The unnecessary comparison that occurs annually among teenagers is just that: unnecessary. 

Ever since I was in elementary school, I’ve been taught there is more than one kind of intelligence. Some people understand public speaking, writing or how to interact with others. Maybe some individuals excel at art, music or anything regarding creativity. One of the aspects I love most about the world is that there’s space for everybody’s various skills. Not all people have to go into a field that requires them to be good at math or grammar because there are so many kinds of occupations and careers that can be pursued, and that kind of flexibility within the workforce really just stresses how little the SAT and PSAT matters. 

There’s space in the world for everyone. There’s space for musicians and artists, actors and models, athletes and photographers alike. And I can guarantee that not one practitioner of an aforementioned profession has ever had their worth as a human being judged based on whether or not they can solve for “X.”

There are still people who want to apply to a college that requires their SAT score. There are still people who want to pursue a career in STEM or academia. I can recognize, understand and support these facts. But no matter how hard I try, I simply cannot comprehend why some people think it’s okay to pressure their peers into revealing their test scores or openly mock those who receive a result they perceive as subpar. I see these interactions happen every year, and they’re always initiated by people who think the PSAT is the “end-all-be-all” of their high school career. 

If standardized testing is important to someone, then it’s important to someone. But comparison is the thief of joy, and it will never be acceptable to project one’s views onto somebody else. The unhealthy competition and tactless behavior surrounding these tests has to end.

Going into my junior year, my motto was simple: “It’s not that deep.” One of my biggest regrets regarding my freshman and sophomore years of high school is that I allowed academics and test scores to define my perception of my own intelligence. I excelled in some areas, but I struggled in others, and I convinced myself that my struggles define how “smart” I am. This couldn’t be further from the truth. 

When I graduate from this school, I can choose to apply to whatever college I want. I can major in whatever I want. I can pursue any profession I want. If I so desire, I can choose to go into a field that will never require me to know a single thing covered on the SAT. And absolutely none of this means I’m any less intelligent than someone who received a 1600. So, readers, with all of this in mind, I’d like you to take a deep breath and say it with me: It’s not that deep.

The views in this graphic perspective do not necessarily reflect the views of the HiLite staff. Reach Evelyn Foster at [email protected].