Erik Davis recalls taking the test for grad school:
I was asked to empty all my stuff — watches, wallet, etc. — into a locker, and wait in silence. A sign informed me that the entire facility was being audio recorded and video-taped. Almost an hour later, Mr. Beard summoned me to his desk, where I was given more instructions and photographed. I was not required to use the fingerprint scanner that was presumably employed for loftier exams. Then I was shown to the solitary cubicle where I faced a screen alone. All this claustrophobic ritual suggested that the GRE is the intellectual equivalent of passing through airport security: an apparatus of institutional judgment, mindlessly administered by louts, and featuring symbolic humiliations, surveillance, and an unspoken presumption of criminality.
I blame Osama. But seriously, folks, you should take Oxford finals. When I took them, I had around ten 3-hour written exams in a week and a half. All of my grades at Oxford would depend on these exams alone. Nothing else over the previous three years mattered. And you had to show up in full "subfusc": gown, mortar board, black pants, black jacket and black socks. Yes, socks. I showed up for one exam wearing white socks and was sent home. I lost about 20 minutes on that exam, frantically running down Oxford high street on a mission to find some non-crusty black socks from the pile of filth in my closet, then hightailing it back there to get my early modern French lit exam under my belt.
The GRE? I took that too. A cinch in comparison.
The Dish 