I took (as most science majors do)
General chemistry during my freshman year of undergrad. It was my least
favorite class. There wasn’t anything wrong with the teacher, and the material
was actually relatively interesting as these kinds of classes go. The thing
that I couldn’t wrap my head around was the math. Not actually doing the math
(I had a calculator), but I could never figure out which equation went with
which situation. The exams were usually open ended, with credit given for
partially correct answers. My general strategy usually involved writing down as
many of the equations I could remember and just solving them all in the hope
that one of them would give me a useable answer, and worst comes to worst,
would be partial credit-worthy. This strategy actually worked better than one
might expect, I got a 78 on my first ever general chemistry exam (before the
curve).
The night before the second exam, I
was up late studying, as I had yet to learn that actually being well rested for
an exam would be more helpful than a late night cram session. Once I finally went
to be at about 4 am, I set the alarm on my cell phone for 9 am, leaving myself
20 minutes to walk across campus to the exam, which went from 9:30 to 10:45. I
awoke the next morning feeling groggy and was struck immediately with the
sickening feeling I had slept through the exam.
I turned the phone over; 7 am.
Plenty of time left to sleep. My alarm was still set, there was no reason to
worry. I rolled over and went back to sleep, reassured that it was all in my
head. I woke up again a few hours later, now not worried at all about missing
the exam. I felt surprisingly well rested. I casually rolled over and flipped
over my phone to check the time.
10:20 am.
I was late, extremely so, and there
was no make-up exam. I pulled on my clothes and just barely remembered to grab
my calculator and a pencil as I sprinted out the door. I don’t think I even
locked it.
The walk to the chemistry building
took fifteen minutes. I lived all the way on the opposite side of UConn’s huge
campus. Sufficiently motivated, I think I made it at a dead sprint in 5.
I ran, panting into the lecture
hall at 10:30, almost an hour late. The TA gave me an exam, but she warned me
that it was not possible to finish the exam in just 15 minutes, and that no
extra time could be given.
I sat down with the exam. It was
extremely difficult. Without any time to think, I just scribbled down the first
answers I could think of to each problem. Without the time I usually enjoyed to
experiment with many equations, all I could do was guess which one I thought
fit best and work through it.
I did finish that exam, but I was
terrified to see how low my grade was. Whenever they announced the grades, they
would give you a range of the lowest and highest grades. I had never been the
lowest, but I had the sad, sickening feeling that mine might make an appearance
this time. The last lowest grade had been an 18%, and I assume that person had
to fail. Math might not have been my strong point, but I was aware that an
18/100 lowered your average considerably.
The next week, the professor
stopped class early to hand out the graded exams. The lowest grade was a 22%. I
was pretty sure it would be mine. She called each person’s name and had them
collect their exam. In a class of 50, it took a while. Finally she got to my
name.
I walked up to the front of the class, defeated and
expecting the worst. The professor was inscrutable as she handed me my exam. I
flipped the exam over and looked for the red number in the top right corner.
78/100.
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| P.S. Parks and Rec is my favorite show.... |
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