I love chemistry. I had three years of it in high school in anticipation of its challenges. ((1 year general chem, 1 year organic, 1 year AP.)) I think I like it so much because of it’s mathematical nature. I love math too, so it makes sense that I would love chemistry. I also love to take standardized tests. The ACT was hot stuff, and I’m salivating the udders of my salivary glands for the MCAT; they are oozing.
It’s important to know that some of the things we love we aren’t great at. I’m not phenomenal at either math, chemistry, nor standardized tests, but I love them. And if you love something, then you possess enough coal to churn your engine; you’ll have enough drive to succeed.
Last Friday was my first college exam. The content assessed was relatively easy ((Basic concepts, mole concept, and stoichiometry.)), and I didn’t stress over preparing. Then came Thursday night, and with each passing hour my anxiety grew exponentially. I began to second-guess my meager preparation: I don’t know the formulas. I don’t know what the atomic symbol Tl represents. I don’t know more than I should know.
Despite my worries, the exam was thrilling. I worked every problem meticulously because I knew I was so capable of receiving a very near to perfect mark. I was proud of my work, and handed in my exam confidently.
On Sunday I checked my grades, and it read that I scored an 84 on my exam. To borrow from Marvin the Martian, “how very disappointing”. ((I’m not sure if Marvin ever said that, but I can imagine him saying that.)) For real, though! I thought I rocked that exam.
I’ll be attending office hours this week. Firstly, because I’m hoping to see a copy of the exam. Secondly, because I love my chemistry professor. He’s an amiable old fellow, and I hope he doesn’t retire (or pass away) within three years; I want him to write me a LOR.
Time to hike up the pants, not shave for weeks, and sleep on and with my books and lecture notes. An 84 is nowhere near what I know I can achieve, nor is it anywhere near what I want.