So, Nora, I- I- I was talking to a student last week who was practically
hyperventilating.
They had just opened up their portal to do the practice run for the LSAT
Argumentative Writing section and- and...
well, they had this sudden, awful realization.
No paper.
Anywhere.
Wait, what?
No physical paper at all?
I mean, for the- the multiple-choice sections, you get your scratch paper.
You can scribble all over it.
Right, but for the Argumentative Writing part, it is strictly digital-only.
Physical scratch paper and writing utensils are totally, strictly prohibited.
You cannot have a single pen or a scrap of legal pad on your desk during that
proctored writing session.
That is...
wow.
That's a massive shock to the system.
I remember when I was prepping, my immediate, animal instinct was to reach for my
yellow legal pad the second a prompt popped up.
If I couldn't do that, I'd probably flag the proctoring software just by looking
around my desk in a panic.
But why?
Why the sudden ban on physical paper just for the essay?
It- it really comes down to security.
LSAC is terrified of people transcribing the prompts.
Because you're taking this at home, unsupervised in a room,
if they allowed physical scratch paper, it would be too easy to write down the exact
prompt, walk away, and leak it online.
So, no paper.
But here's where it gets truly messy.
They've redesigned the format.
It's no longer just, "hey, should this town buy a tractor or a library book?"
It's now three or four distinct, ideological perspectives on a single issue.
Oh, great.
So they made the prompt three times as complicated, and then they took away our
pens.
That sounds like a recipe for total cognitive overload.
You're trying to synthesize these viewpoints on a crowded, split-screen interface,
and your brain is just...
melting trying to hold all those variables at once.
Exactly.
It's what psychologists call split-attention effect.
You're bouncing your eyes back and forth between the prompt,
your draft, and the built-in digital notepad.
It's chaos.
But- but think about it like this...
in litigation, you don't always get to look down at a legal pad.
If you're in a fast-moving deposition and the opposing counsel hands you a digital
exhibit, you can't look down and start drawing diagrams.
You have to map the "clash points" directly on the screen, in real time.
Hmm.
Okay, I see that.
It's like...
instead of looking down to think, you have to learn to think directly on the glass.
We talked about this with the 'No-Look' reconstruction method for Logical
Reasoning-translating everything into plain, active English right there on the
screen.
But how do you actually do that when the clock is ticking and you have fifty minutes
to write a coherent argument?
Well, this is where the structure of the exam can actually save you,
if you don't fall into the pacing trap.
The writing block is fifty minutes, but it's split.
You have a fifteen-minute "prewriting analysis" phase, and then a thirty-five-minute
essay writing phase.
Now, here's the trap.
There is a five-minute mandatory lock at the start where you can't write the essay
anyway.
And what do most students do?
They get anxious, they stare at the screen, and the second that five-minute lock
lifts, they click "next" and start typing the essay.
Guilty!
I would absolutely do that.
You feel like you're losing time if you're just sitting there not drafting.
But that's the mistake.
If you rush in, you hit a structural dead-end twenty minutes later.
You have to use that full fifteen-minute prep window.
And instead of writing a traditional, linear outline-which is useless on a tiny
digital scratchpad-you build what I call a "Perspective Matrix."
Right there in the built-in digital notepad.
A "Perspective Matrix."
Okay, walk me through that.
What does that actually look like on screen?
You- you type out a simple, three-row grid.
Literally just use typed lines.
Row one: Perspective A's core value.
Row two: Perspective B's primary flaw.
Row three: Your synthesizing argument.
You map the clash points.
Because you've laid this out during the fifteen-minute prep phase,
when the thirty-five-minute writing clock starts ticking, you aren't thinking about
*what* to say next.
You're just executing the plan.
Oh, I love that.
It's like building the skeleton first so you aren't trying to grow bones while
you're putting on muscle.
And- and honestly, this seems more important than ever because of...
well, AI.
Right?
Exactly.
With ChatGPT, admissions committees know that personal statements can be- let's say,
heavily assisted.
But this essay?
It's proctored.
No phones, no physical scratch paper, no external help.
It is fifty minutes of raw, unassisted brainpower.
Admissions officers are looking at this as the ultimate proof of whether you can
actually write and analyze under pressure.
So the unscored essay isn't really "unscored" in terms of impact anymore.
It's the only truly authentic sample they have.
Alright, so no paper, use the full fifteen minutes to build your matrix on screen,
and treat it like a deposition.
I can dig that.
Let's practice some screen-mapping.
Let's do it.