Exam P/1

About a half hour into the test, I damn near cried. After months of studying, all the frustration, afternoons at Starbucks instead of at the beach, missing The Office, paddling and other events, I was going to fail. And not only was I going to fail, I didn’t even know where I was going wrong. If I failed this test, the backup plan was always to figure out how to answer the questions I got wrong and retake the test in July, but what would be the point if I didn’t even know what the questions were asking?

The first actuarial exam is a 3-hour, 30 question multiple-choice focused on Probability Theory and Calculus. When the same test was administered in February, an unusually high 43% of all those who took it passed. Usually, only 37% of the 3500 people taking Exam P/1 are successful.

In theory, you only need to get a D-minus to pass. There are 30 questions and passing is just 60%, or 18 correct. Sort of. An undisclosed number of questions are just “practice.” They don’t count. They’re in there as a trial run for next year’s exams. So really, passing is 60% out of 26, 27, or 28 questions. Except it’s not. There’s also something of a curve, and the test administrators are vague about what this means. Officially, anyone who exhibits all of the skills necessary to become an actuary passes. So if Dave gets 19 questions right, and Onaona only gets 17, but Dave clearly has no idea what the Cumulative Distribution Function of an Exponential Distribution is, then Dave fails, and Onaona could very well pass. Moreover, if the administrators notice that almost everyone got question #21 wrong, they might conclude it was too hard and just strike that from the records. Even if I got that one right. Oh well.

So after having my fingerprints recorded, and my pockets emptied in front of a test official, I was signed into a private exam room. On the whole, I felt pretty confident going in. I had taken some practice exams and consistently scored above 80%. Anxious to get this over with, I dived into the tutorial that preceded the test. Almost all the tests are now administered by a new technology called, “Computer.” The tutorial familiarized me with what a “Mouse” is and how I was about to use it in taking this exam. Nevermind the fact that I registered for the test using the Internet. Five minutes later, I hit a button, “End Tutorial” expecting a screen to pop up introducing the forthcoming test. Instead, I found that the test had started! On the screen was question #1, and the 3-hour timer had already started counting down.

I couldn’t answer the question. I jotted down a few things, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so keeping my composure, I moved on to question #2, and started a new page in my test booklet. Shucks! I didn’t know that one either. In fact, I couldn’t figure out any of the first 4 questions. At this point, I was sweating – both literally and figuratively. I managed to squeak out an answer to question #5, only to find that I had no idea what to do with question #6. It was now 30 minutes into the test and I had answered only 1 of the first 6 questions. Generally, I like to think of myself as proud and determined, but I can honestly say that I was very close to walking out of the exam room. And I might have if I had had my wallet with me, or my cell phone, or a ride.

I didn’t want to go back into the restaurant industry, but I would have to. I would have to explain to everyone that I had failed this test that I had been studying for for so long. I would have to tell my 93 year-old grandmother. And since she doesn’t hear very well, I’d probably have to tell her three or four times with increasing volume. But I had nowhere to go, so I might as well see what the rest of the test looked like, and besides, technically speaking, I could still pass if I get most of the remaining questions right.

I got 21 of the next 23 questions, I even had time to go back and figure out one of the questions I had skipped at the beginning.

After the test is over, you are virtually required to take a 15-minute survey. It’s not really required, but after you take the survey, a window pops up to tell you if you’ve unofficially passed or failed. The real results aren’t mailed for eight weeks, but most of the time, if the computer says you’ve passed, you’ve passed.

I passed.

It was a delicious feeling. Also delicious was the Champagne Onaona and I drank after. And the TV we watched after that. And the first night of deep, peaceful sleep in a long while. I probably wouldn't have slept so well if I had walked out.