The most surreal part of becoming a United States citizen, and there are many, is the citizenship exam. In a few months, I will have the privilege of standing before some bored INS official and answering ten randomly selected questions, needing six correct answers to get that elusive right to vote.
I have spent the last few days poring over the set of 100 questions that supposedly encapsulate everything a would-be citizen, such as myself, should know about the U.S. I’d expect such an exam to reach for the lowest common denominator of political knowledge—say, a fifth-grade civics exam. The actual questions seem to range from kindergarten-level to questions that would stump most Georgetown students.
For starters, there are the inane questions. “What are the colors of the flag?” “How many stars are on the flag?” “What do the stars stand for?” A disproportionate number of questions are dedicated to identifying features of the flag. The question selection committee seems to believe that fawning over a symbolic piece of cloth is one of the key aspects of the American identity.
Civic pride is important, but these flag questions demean both the questioner and the questioned. To be fair, many parts of the years-long naturalization process are just as insulting and demeaning for everyone involved, such as being asked at age fifteen if you have ever been a member of a communist terrorist organization. (At least the INS official rolled his eyes somewhat when he got to the question about my possible Nazi affiliations.)
At the opposite end of the spectrum are the questions that would stump the vast majority of current citizens, and, as I learned this week, a great number of Georgetown students. Do you know who your representative is? This being Georgetown, I shouldn’t have been surprised that many of my friends said they had worked in their office at some point, but the question still stumped most of my non-SFS friends. If you live in the District, you’re doubly screwed because it’s a trick question.
Georgetown isn’t comprised only of government and Foreign Service students, as I often have to remind myself, but I am still shocked at how little some students know about politics. I still remember a government professor grilling students about basic political facts of their home states. One girl couldn’t name a single senator from her home state of California. Her best guesses were Nancy Pelosi and Condoleezza Rice. She wouldn’t pass a citizenship exam.
Many exam questions are poorly worded. I am completely in favor of requiring that new Americans understand the rule of law, but asking something as vague as “What is the rule of law?” invited many blank stares among people I asked. Ditto for “Who is the head of your local government?” If you live in a sprawling, impersonal suburb like I do, then you apparently aren’t fit to be an American. These questions put you at the mercy of whatever The INS official happens to be quizzing you that day. Enough of my experience with INS has been at the hands of officials’ whims; the exam doesn’t need to be that way.
You can accuse me of picking the worst questions from the test, and you would be right. In addition to the more frivolous questions, there are important questions about branches of government, citizen rights and even modern American history, with questions about Martin Luther King, Jr. and September 11 on the exam.
The exam questions are a grab bag of the inane, the confusing, and the truly worthwhile—in many ways, the test is a truly accurate representation of what new Americans can expect to find in their adopted homeland.
