I downloaded the Blue Book SAT app hoping to finally conquer the SAT beast, but instead, I think I unleashed a digital monster that’s out to sabotage my brain cells. First off, the app’s “helpful tips” felt more like cryptic riddles from a confused ancient wizard. If I wanted to feel this lost, I’d just stare at a blank wall for 3 hours. Spoiler alert: the wall probably knows more math than this app.The practice questions were so tricky, I started suspecting the app was secretly trying to make me fail. One question asked me to find the “mystical value of x,” but all I found was the mystical value of my anxiety skyrocketing. And don’t get me started on the explanations — they’re about as clear as a foggy mirror in a hurricane. I’d have better luck understanding a Shakespearean sonnet while blindfolded.Finally, the app crashed more times than I’ve had cups of coffee this week — and that’s saying something. If crashing were an SAT section, Blue Book would definitely ace it. All in all, this app didn’t help me get ready for the SAT; it just prepared me for a new kind of test: the patience endurance exam. One star, and that’s being generous.

May 2025. It was a warm spring morning before the week of AP exams started. The outside was a beautiful picture. But underneath students were dreading not the test, but the platform the test would be taken on. For the first week there was barely an issue. Sure, the reference windows would malfunction on math, or it would completely from internet, or the app would crash and cause students to lose half of their testing time mid test. However, none of that was worth wasting their time and effort to cash in their generously offered free retake and waste another 3+ hours on testing. That is until the last day. It was May 16th the beginning of the afternoon. Students flooded their school’s testing rooms to take their AP Psych exam. They waited with a lack of eagerness to log in. Nothing. They were stuck at the loading screen, over half of the test takers many of which it was the day of prom. Stuck in the clinical room until 1 pm until “more updates came through” I, dear readers, will update if they have an actual update, and we are not plagued by more madness.

Oh my flipping days. Using Bluebook is like trying to take a life-defining test inside a collapsing porta-potty during a tornado while someone throws bricks at your Wi-Fi router. It crashed before I even finished typing my name. Then it froze mid-question like it had a panic attack. When it finally did work, the lag was so bad I thought the test was being delivered by a pigeon.The app locked me out for having the audacity to adjust my screen brightness. I wasn’t cheating—I was just trying to see. But I guess light is considered a threat to national security in Bluebook’s eyes. Bluebook is a paranoid control freak that punishes you for breathing wrong.I genuinely think Bluebook was coded by sleep-deprived demons who never passed a test in their lives. It's a disgrace to technology, a menace to students, and a tragic reminder that the future of standardized testing is built on a foundation of digital garbage. If I could give it zero stars and a restraining order, I would.

I always thought exams were mere obstacles, little challenges to prove my knowledge. I was wrong. It wasn’t the professor, the lecture notes, or even the caffeine-deprived nights—it was the blue book. That blank, innocent-looking notebook became my executioner. Its cover, a calm shade of blue, belied the terror that awaited me inside.I remember staring at it, pen in hand, my mind a storm of half-remembered formulas and forgotten quotes. Each second ticked like a countdown to doom. I tried to summon my knowledge, replaying lectures and textbook passages like incantations, but the blue book refused to be placated. It mocked me with its emptiness.As I wrote, I felt pieces of myself disintegrating—my confidence, my sleep, my dignity. I scribbled desperately, words and numbers colliding in chaos, yet nothing seemed right. The blue book didn’t just demand answers; it demanded sacrifice. By the time the exam ended, I was a husk of the student I once was, haunted by blank pages and missed opportunities.In the end, I realized the truth: it wasn’t my fault that I failed. It was the blue book’s. It killed me softly, page by page, question by question, until all that remained was a trembling hand clutching a pen, and the silent witness of a cruelly empty page.