Days Away, Last Minute Preparations for the Oral Assessment

In exactly seven days, I'll be in DC, taking the Oral Assessment for the second time. I alternate between feeling composed and optimistic to being frazzled and terrified. Up, down, up, down. Every small accomplishment makes me feel better: like successfully completing a practice Case Management exercise, or coming up with a new story for the Structured Interview, or practicing those stories with my son. His feedback has been sharp and encouraging.

Earlier this week, I took another look at my Statement of Interest. Last year, the assessor gave it back to me with a warm smile and said, "You might want to use this again." I took it as a  compliment, an indication that he found the essay worthy and convincing.

Fast forward one year, I take a look at the same essay and realize that it won't do. Why? Because it was very clearly tailored for the Public Diplomacy cone. This time around, I'm applying for Consular. Now, the prompt given on the Statement of Interest form does not ask  you to explain your reasons for your choice of a cone; it merely (merely?) asks you to explain why you want to join the Foreign Service. However, common wisdom holds that you can -- and should -- use this essay to demonstrate a strong knowledge of and affinity for the responsibilities you would hold as an officer in that cone.

So, I faced the choice of making the essay general, which would be fine as I'm applying as a "generalist," (as opposed to a "specialist"). But I couldn't resist the temptation to again make it as strong as possible in terms of focusing on my cone.

I thought I did a good job, but then I took another look at it and well ... doubt crept in. So I'll be taking another look at it today, and probably tomorrow, too! ;-)

I spent a good part of the morning freshening up on high school math. Believe it or not, I never studied statistics -- mean, median and mode. A question involving central tendencies is the one kind of math problem that appears on the practice FSOT that State hands out and now I've realized why.

Last year, I bombed the CM exercise, which, as Digger pointed out in advance to me, is the only exercise where you have the opportunity to demonstrate quantitative skills. I thought the essay was all about writing and management and finding solutions under pressure with few resources. Well, it is. But a significant part of that is providing a qualitative description of the problem and a quantitative analysis of the data to back it all up. My impression? No quantitative analysis = no passing score. So, while I'm still worried about the writing part of it, I'm even more concerned about the quantitative part. Hence, I've been studying, studying, studying -- percentages and ratios and basic methods of statistical analysis. No matter what happens, I'll feel inoculated against any guilt at not having adequately prepared for that aspect of the CM.

I spoke to another one of my former study group members yesterday. She took her OA earlier this month, and had some excellent advice: find some alone time if you need it. Like me, she's an introvert, so she was exhausted after a day of constant, non-stop social interaction. She needed time to herself, but felt too polite to take it. There's a lot of waiting around during the OA, so that even when you're not in the middle of an exercise, you're still "on." She felt compelled to stay with her group, she said, rather than do what she really wanted to, which was to go off by herself and maybe review her notes, or even just close her eyes and take a deep breath. I remember last year, also wishing I could just get away for a while and tank up. But I was at Annex 1 and we weren't allowed to leave the building or go anywhere inside it without escort (with the exception of using the facilities, of course). One of the reasons I've been looking forward to testing at Annex 44 is the possibility of going outside. I'll do that, and, if I need to (and I probably will), I'll take some time alone.

She also reminded me of how the assessors will inevitably come up with a question for which you've no prepared answer. That prompted me to dig out my notes from last year, notes I made directly after the OA. There were at least five -- yes, five -- questions for which I had no prepared response. No, actually, there were six. (And I had some 20 stories memorized, believe it or not). What happened? I answered the questions, all six of them, with an agility that surprised me. I wasn't sure  they were the best answers, but they were all I had, and I guess the assessors found them okay. I scored well on the SI overall.

Anyway, I went back, found those notes, remembered the stories I'd used and polished them up. I also came up with one or two new ones. I still don't know how good the stories are, but they're mine and they're honest, if humble. There are, of course, questions for which I still don't have any answer at all. I just hope that now with more than 25 prepared stories, the laws of probability will be working in my favor and I'll have few if any unexpected questions.

As for the hypotheticals, I spent some time last week reading the FAM sections on consular work. Excellent information -- too much information, actually -- about how to prepare for a crisis, what to do in the event of one, how to handle arrests, deaths, etc. I don't expect to remember ANY of it during the OA, but I do hope that the logic, the approach that's laid down in the FAM will remain. If one or two details actually come to mind, then believe me, I'll grasp them like a life raft.

I'll be heading down to DC on Tuesday, will follow forum advice to get there two days early so you have time to relax, find and view the test site, etc. I decided not to buy a new suit for the OA, partly because of a lack of funds, but also partly -- and this reveals my superstitious nature -- I don't believe it's good to wear new clothes to something where you're nervous. I'd prefer something that's stood me in good stead in the past, a suit that has "been there" for me. Silly, huh? But there's some pragmatic sense to it, too. People almost always look uncomfortable in their "new" Sunday best. I want to look comfortable. No matter how badly my insides churn, I want to look relaxed and confident. What's that old line? Fake it till you make it?

Which brings me to my last strategy-cum-advice about preparing for the OA: find a way to laugh. I love crime shows, but over the next few days I will stay away from anything that's dark and sad and/or fatalistic. I intend to switch to comedy and read a good many dumb jokes. I want to fight the fear with humor and joy. I intend to feel light and bright and radiate warmth when I go to the OA. I think a laugh cure is a good way to do that.

OK, so back to means and median and modes and range and all that other good stuff.

P.S. Here, by the way, are the websites I'm using to relearn basic math concepts (recommended if you're as math-challenged as I am):

Purple Math.com
Regents Prep.org
Webster.edu
Jumbo Tests.com

P.S.S. About staying away from anything dark: I got a free ticket to see the movie Buried tonight, about an American journalist who finds himself buried alive in Iraq. Talk about being in the dark, literally! However, I'm trusting that the journalist gets out. Therefore, I will see this movie as one of resurrection, of someone bursting into the light! Yes, yes, yes!

P.S.S.S. So I just came back from seeing Buried. Um ... not the best movie for sometime determined to stay light. Miserable, depressing ....

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Now, For the Studying, Rehearsing, Preparing

Today will mark my first participation in a study group in a long time. I'm nervous. Very. I feel less prepared, more green, than I felt when I began last year.

This morning, I took a look at my list of stories for the Structured Interview questions and felt as though they were the autobiographical material of a stranger -- a not very interesting stranger at that.

There was this incredible disconnect. It was really odd, as though part of my brain wasn't functioning.

Maybe it was because it was 5:30 in the morning. I guess I feel disconnected to a lot of things at that time of morning.

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OA Date Selected. Angst and Tears

Last year I took the Oral Assessment late in October. In selecting that date, I thought it would give me extra time to study. But by August I felt ready and I was starting to worry about feeling overprepared. I even thought about writing to State and asking for an earlier date. I knew that my sense of readiness was in part due to the weather. I always feel bright and optimistic and strong in summer. So, I worried about taking the test in fall, when the sky would be gray and my energy correspondingly low. I worried about taking it after business travels. I worried about ... a lot of things.

In the end, everything I worried about came true. And I came away with the feeling that if I had the opportunity to take the OA again, I would do so in summer. I wouldn't give myself time to wear myself out worrying, time to fret, time to swing between being numb with dread or sick with terror.

Determined, compulsive, more committed (or crazy) than even I realized, I started the process all over again. Signed up for the written exam. Actually studied for it. Took it and walked out convinced I'd bombed it. Had the same feeling with the PNQs. Felt sick to my stomach when I hit the send button to submit them back in April. Realized that I was sick of feeling anxious. And once again, I promised myself that if I was blessed to receive another invitation to the OAs, I'd schedule it for sooner rather than later.

When I did receive that invite, my resolve hardened. I looked forward to a test date in July. Late July, of course, since the first date was to be July 21. Registration for the OA would open June 21. I would be one of the first one's at the website to sign up. Yup, that I would.

Then life happened.

My 93-year-old mother got sick and had to be hospitalized. I started spending four hours a day at her bedside. She was sweet and wonderful and incredibly fragile, and  I started wondering, "What in the world am I doing? I can't join the Foreign Service; I can't leave her."

Then I got a job that required working overnights. I learned that overnight shifts really do not agree with me and that sleep deprivation can seriously affect one's ability to concentrate -- and remember things.

Then our insurance started acting up. Refusing to pay for this. Or that. Or even that. (I mean, how petty can you be?) Then my insurance dropped both of my children. Decided that I earned too much money. Even though I'm unemployed. How, I asked, is that possible?

So I thought about the 13 Dimensions. Or tried to. I thought, "This should be good fodder for stories," or tried to. But sleep deprivation over an extended period of time can do amazingly bad things to one's ability to focus much less remember things. So I resorted to lists ... And forgot the lists!

Long story short, by the time the morning of June 21st arrived, I'd forgotten all about the OA -- OA scheduling, that is. Did I remember to mention that my daughter had come into town the day before for an out-of-town medical visit and I had to accompany her? So guess where my mind was ...

By the time, I remembered that it was OA Register Day, it was seven that evening. I knew that the dream of a July testing date was over. I could only hope for a late August one.

By the time, I was home and back online, by the time the site actually came up (it took forever), by the time I found that suddenly-asked-for/never-seen before candidate ID, and could log in to register, July was long gone. So was August and most of September. In fact, only September 29th and 30th were left.

I chose the 29th, then hesitated and went for the 30th. Mainly because I like the number 3. And  it was closer to the weekend, so I hoped it would be better for finding someone to watch my son.

I pulled the trigger. Closed the website. Stood back. And promptly burst into tears.

My July date was gone. I'd have to go through nearly three months of waiting. I didn't cry after not passing the OA last year. I was exhausted from days of business travel when I got to DC in the first place and starving the day I took the OA, so I think my emotional reserves were just about used up when the assessors gave me the news.

But last Monday, I cried. Cried hard. I think it was the first time I realized how much of a toll the first OA had taken on me. I cried, too, I think, because of everything. I cried because now I had months of worry ahead.

My very sensible daughter listened to me babble, then said, very reasonably, "I like the number three, too, Mama. And I think it's a good date. Furthermore, you have too much on your plate to take the test now. September 30th means you have time to take care of what's going on now, and time to study."

I paused, sniffled, and looked at her, "But I wanted a July date."

She just shook her head.

She was right. Of course, she was. And as the days pass, I've come to believe that God is taking better care of me than I am of myself. Between now and September 1st, I have a long list of matters to attend to:

My mother is now in rehabilitative care. She's decided not to return home, so I have to clear out her apartment, decide what to do with her things. My son is returning from two years abroad; I have to find a school and register him, or prepare to home school him for a year. My daughter has decided to have elective surgery. It would take place in late July, at the same time I wanted to take the OA and two weeks before my son is due home in early August. Meanwhile, I still visit my mom and try to take care of errands for her. Meanwhile, I'm still struggling with our respective insurance companies.

It's harder than ever to focus on studying for the OA, in part because of everything that's going on around me and in part because it seems so far away.

For a while, I thought about dropping out of the OA study group. I decided to do so, at least for the rest of this month. I was worried, too, about being part of a group wherein everyone had a July or August  date. It's hard seeing folks disappear while you become the hanger-on. But, by coincidence, many of the folks in my study group are taking the OA in September, too. So I'll be sticking with the group. Practice may not make me perfect, but it'll help. I hope that some of my most glaring weaknesses (of which there are several) will be strengthened. It's a wonderful group, too. Really mutually supportive folks.

Did I mention the upside to all of this? I got to register for Annex 44. It's in a much kinder area than Annex 1. So if the day inside is going badly, I'll be able to leave, get some fresh air, get re-energized. I intend to spend a full day in DC before the test, so I'm really rested. There are restaurants in the area where one can get an early morning breakfast (pre-6:30 a.m.), but I'll pack snacks just in case (grapes, granola bars, etc.)

Thinking about it, I realize that while dreading the OA, I'm also actually looking forward to it. It's  a rather fun day in an odd way. You get to spend hours with a bunch of really fantastic people. I know, everyone says that, so you might think it's folderol, but it's not. State has an incredible selection process and comes up with amazing, but unbelievably amazing folks. It's so much fun talking to them and hearing each person's story. And the exercises themselves -- simulating a task force, coming up with solutions to emergency scenarios on the spot -- are fun, too -- or would be if one didn't feel that an entire career is on the line.

Anyway, back to preparations. It's too early to pack for the OA, or even to set up a hotel reservation (I'm hoping for a last minute discount), but it is the perfect time to buy a ticket to get there. So that's what I'm going to do now.

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