Twenty-two years · one section
We know how they think, and we know how they think you think.
Generic CARS prep is over.
The people who write your exam work under real constraints. They cut their passages out of essays they did not commission. They are not permitted to test anything you could have studied. And the manual they write from tells them to build wrong answers out of the mistakes students really make, which is why the wrong answer you just picked felt so reasonable.
That is not much room, and it is not much mystery. What is left is a machine with a finite number of moving parts, and this is twenty-two years of taking it apart.
Twelve questions, about fifteen minutes. It ends by naming the specific error costing you points.
Advocates of participation grades argue that they reward the students who engage with a class, not only the ones who test well.
Critics reply that although the intention is fair, what a grader can actually see is who talks, so the policy rewards the confident student and quietly penalizes the thoughtful one.
The plateau
The most common message I get, almost word for word, several times a week.
You read the question properly. You narrowed it to two answers. One felt slightly better, you took it, and you were wrong. And when you read the explanation afterwards it made sense but did not help, because you could not find the moment where you should have done something differently.
So you did what has worked every other time in your academic life. You did more of it. More passages, more hours. The score moved about a point.
That is a strategy problem answered with a volume solution.
Those passages are not wasted. They are unread. Your score moves when you kill off specific, repeated, nameable errors. Not from reading faster.
And the explanation was never going to find that moment for you. It looks at the answer, and the answer is only where the mistake came to rest. An error is an event. It starts somewhere, and on this section there are five places it can start:
Reviewing explanations only ever shows you the last of the five. Most points leave at the first four.
So the explanation arrives at the right scene at the wrong time. What you needed was the sentence you skimmed four minutes earlier, and no explanation is going to hand you that.
The method puts something to do at each of the five places instead. Not advice about answers. A specific move at each point where a question can be lost, so that by the time you are down to two, most of the wrong roads are already shut.
The free diagnostic names the error costing you most, which of the five stages it starts in, and the rule that stops it.
The method
Open any rule to see why it holds. You can check every one of them against an answer choice while the clock is running.
Ninety minutes, fifty-three questions, nine passages you have never seen.
One loop, four moves
Read so that a map comes out of it
Work the questions off the map instead of your memory
Hold every answer against a rule instead of an instinct
Then write down what went wrong so it stops going wrong
Steps, not tips. The difference is that steps compound, and a tip has to be remembered at exactly the moment you are least able to remember anything.
The topics rotate every year, and so does the bait. The moves underneath do not change, because the mistakes they need from you do not change. That is the fact that makes rules possible, and it is the reason this method does not age when the exam redecorates.
Two or three questions a section are not designed to be answered. Missing one costs a point. Missing one slowly costs the passage you no longer have time for, and that is the double whammy that turns a good section into a bad one.
Four words decide whether a paragraph is the author’s argument or somebody else’s. “This reply runs.” “On this view.” “The critics argued.” Skate over them and you read the whole passage coherently, confidently, and wrongly.
Concessions mark where two viewpoints touch. One concession often decides half the questions on a passage, because the examiner knows a hurried reader turns “X is true and beside the point” into “X is false.”
Every inference question in existence is one question wearing different clothes: what am I leaping from, and what are they asking me to leap to? From “walked the dog, hiked, jogged twice” you may conclude a somewhat active day. You may not conclude an active lifestyle, because lifestyle implies habit, and habit was not in evidence.
The choices you cannot immediately follow are usually the right ones, because restating a passage in different words is what produces awkward prose. Students cut them for exactly the reason they should keep them.
Correct answers restate the passage in different words. They have to, or the question would test whether you can match words instead of whether you can reason. Recognition is not evidence. It is the bait, and it is the single most expensive habit a strong student brings to this section.
Prove it
Here is the passage again, because the method never asks you to answer from memory. Choose any answer, including a wrong one on purpose, and it will name the rule you broke and where in the process you broke it. That is what an hour of tutoring looks like, once through.
Written for this site. It has never appeared on an MCAT.
Advocates of participation grades argue that they reward the students who engage with a class, not only the ones who test well.
Critics reply that although the intention is fair, what a grader can actually see is who talks, so the policy rewards the confident student and quietly penalizes the thoughtful one.
The critics’ objection is best described as the claim that participation grades:

Michael Egenthal, Esq. · San Diego
Who wrote this
Every CARS passage is somebody making a case. I have spent a career taking arguments apart: how they are built, what a single word is doing, where a conclusion has outrun the thing supporting it. That is the section, described.
The large courses were built for the sections made of science, where there is content to teach and drill, and they do that job well. CARS is the one section with no content to teach, so a content course can only give it the strategy it has left over.
The CARS specialists are the other half of the picture. They are genuinely focused, they supply more passages than a student could finish, and they are worth recommending for exactly that. The passages come with explanations, and an explanation arrives after the clock has stopped. It can say which answer was right.
It cannot say where you lost the point, because it never watched you read.
I started teaching this exam in 2004, when it was called Verbal Reasoning. In 2015 the AAMC retired that section and replaced it with CARS.
When the exam changed I rebuilt the method rather than renaming it, which is why I can tell you exactly what carried over and what quietly stopped working. A good deal of the advice still circulating never got that treatment.
I take a few students at a time, so there is not always a slot. It starts with fifteen minutes on the phone, free and without a pitch: where you are, when you test, whether we would work well together, and what it costs. San Diego, or video anywhere. Most people should start with the book.
The book
Twelve rules, sixteen errors, and twenty original passages. Twenty-two years in the making.
The full method. The twelve rules with their proofs, worked examples taken start to finish, twenty original passages, and the charting system that turns your own wrong answers into the only study document ever written specifically about you.
A few of the pages, turned by hand. The rest ship between covers.
The sample ends here.
The rules, their proofs, twenty passages, and the charting system ship with the book.
The list hears first. A few emails a year, nothing else.
On this section, the right answer is rarely the one you can talk yourself into. It is the one you cannot talk yourself out of.
I have watched twenty-two years of students agree that the first job of the read is the big theme, and then miss the theme anyway. The reason is nearly always the same. They take the first sentence of the paragraph to be the theme sentence, and the people writing the exam know that is the natural place to look.
So the theme sentence gets buried. Second sentence, third, sometimes the fourth, with a warm-up line or a transition standing where you expected the point to be. A paragraph opening with consider the case of the Willendorf excavation has not told you its theme. It has told you its example, and the theme is waiting two sentences downstream. The middle paragraphs are where this happens most.
Critics reply that although the intention is fair, what a grader can actually see is who talks, so the policy rewards the confident student and quietly penalizes the thoughtful one.
There is a phrase I want you to carry for this moment, because it is the difference between finding the answer and talking yourself out of it. There is often something we do not like about the correct answer, and that thing is non-fatal.
Not liking a choice is not a ground. Finding it graceless is not a ground. The only ground is that something in it is not inferable, and if you cannot point at that thing, you do not have a reason. You have a preference.
| Type | Sub-type | Why I got it wrong | Prevention |
|---|---|---|---|
| Passage language | reused phrase | The answer repeated “social cohesion” from paragraph 3 and familiarity read as proof. | Ask what the words are doing, not whether I have seen them. |
| The leap | could, not must | Chose an answer the passage permits over the one it requires. | Name the leap out loud before the choices. |
Two rows a week is a study plan. Two hundred passages without them is a diary nobody reads.
Your wrong answers are the only study document ever written specifically about you.
Turn the pages. Arrow keys work too.
Tell me where to send it and I will let you know when it is ready. Nothing else, and no more than a few emails a year.