2008 Woodie Awards
Taming the beast?
Kelsey Shannon
Issue date: 9/11/02 Section: Commentary
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Once upon a time, there was this place — a large town that had been menaced by an eccentric monster for as long as anyone could remember. The monster came but a few times a year, and struck only those of a certain age — those on the threshold of adulthood. According to ancient legend, the creature was very particular. It would destroy those it found lacking but exalt those who could prove their merit.
But as time went on, the people began to have doubts about the monster. They heard stories of many boys and girls whose lives were ruined by the monster. The monster, they heard from friends, killed just about everyone it came in contact with. Except the ones it didn't. The logic behind what it considered "merit," they were told by neighbors and an earnest mayor, made no sense to anyone but the beast itself. Some even whispered that a well-placed coin or bullion could smooth a potential victim's way.
So one day, spurred on by some well-placed provocateurs, the townspeople decided to take action. The beast, of course, was too big to kill, but everyone was sure that something could be done. After much discussion, and some not inconsequential humbugging by the purists, a decision was reached: they would chop off the beast's left arm.
And so they did. Hundreds of awed villagers stood around to see what would happen. All were shocked to see the monster grow another arm, this one squarely in the middle of his chest. Angered, the monster promptly swiped at and maimed a half dozen teenagers. Within days, dozens of villagers were pining for the days of the old monster, which, at least, was predictable. And, as days went on and people began really thinking, it seemed that maybe the old one had not been quite as merciless as they had thought. Sure, he had not always been right. But more often than not, the monster was surprisingly prescient.
The monster of this mercifully short parable is the Scholastic Aptitude Test. As the College Board, spurred on by the California Board of Regents and a slew of other misguided reformers, metaphorically slices off the exam's left arm, the unintended consequences are bound to be severe.
But as time went on, the people began to have doubts about the monster. They heard stories of many boys and girls whose lives were ruined by the monster. The monster, they heard from friends, killed just about everyone it came in contact with. Except the ones it didn't. The logic behind what it considered "merit," they were told by neighbors and an earnest mayor, made no sense to anyone but the beast itself. Some even whispered that a well-placed coin or bullion could smooth a potential victim's way.
So one day, spurred on by some well-placed provocateurs, the townspeople decided to take action. The beast, of course, was too big to kill, but everyone was sure that something could be done. After much discussion, and some not inconsequential humbugging by the purists, a decision was reached: they would chop off the beast's left arm.
And so they did. Hundreds of awed villagers stood around to see what would happen. All were shocked to see the monster grow another arm, this one squarely in the middle of his chest. Angered, the monster promptly swiped at and maimed a half dozen teenagers. Within days, dozens of villagers were pining for the days of the old monster, which, at least, was predictable. And, as days went on and people began really thinking, it seemed that maybe the old one had not been quite as merciless as they had thought. Sure, he had not always been right. But more often than not, the monster was surprisingly prescient.
The monster of this mercifully short parable is the Scholastic Aptitude Test. As the College Board, spurred on by the California Board of Regents and a slew of other misguided reformers, metaphorically slices off the exam's left arm, the unintended consequences are bound to be severe.