On this day, I took my Chemistry final. I found it almost encouraging how many I knew in the beginning, and had I studied, how many I would have known. But by this time it was hopeless, and failure was eminent, so I filled in bubbles randomly and waited for a handful of people to turn their finals in first so the other students wouldn’t suspect. I had studied hard, known the material with at least a C to low B knowledge, and failed almost every single test, if not every test, of the semester. Circumstances beyond my control had piled up, and I didn’t feel so bad honestly knowing that I had given it an honest effort and kept trying until the end. I never had it in me to give up.
This Semester was a learning experience. In Molecular biology I studied harder than I had for any test all semester and outright failed it. It felt unjust. When the next test snuck up on me and I had less time to study than before, I gave up home and didn’t study at all. I focused on more important things: like Chemistry. That test I walked into class three minutes late, and took the test in twelve minutes flat because I couldn’t answer any of the short answers. I walked to the front of the room and my professor looked up, startled that someone would be turning in a test so soon. I looked him in the eyes, I smiled, and I honestly thanked him. I didn’t slink out, nor did I hurry.
Even after getting off to a rough start with some of my professors, I found that in the end they gave me much grace. Before scolding me for what they could have suspected was a lack of motivation, or talking numbers and percents with me, they looked me in the eyes and asked me how I was doing and what could they do to be there for me. They provided leniency when it was uncharacteristic of them and mercy in grading. I am indebted. I passed Molecular, though I’m not sure how or if it was truly fair. I did not pass Chemistry, though I am particularly proud of my D. It was always characteristic of me to get two letter grades down on a test than what I thought I deserved or what I knew represented my knowledge: I would get D’s when I was sure of B’s and F’s when I was sure of C’s. I got a D in the class. I am therefore rather proud of my B.
Throughout the whole semester of failure and talking to my professors, parents, and friends, I found that I could own my failure and take pride in who I am and what I was learning from my circumstances. I discovered that I could not take 18 credits with 12 being pure science and succeed, that I have limitations, that I am not a science whiz, that I hate general chemistry, that I am not at all interested in cell/molecular biology, that I love marine biology, that honesty will get you places, that you can never back down or quit in the face of failure, that I love plant biology and field ecology, that I cannot live the road toward being a doctor, that a load of science based knowledge is not the same as practical knowledge, and that you need to do what you love and not what you think you should love, because the world needs you with your passions and talents exactly the way you are.
I’ve redefined my definition of a college education and a degree. I’ve learned to look myself in the face and be okay with who I am. I’ve discovered that it wasn’t hard for me to own up to my lack of success because I was proud of what I was learning about myself and why I was not succeeding, and as unjust as it seemed at times, I could never feel guilty that it was a defect in myself that caused me to not get straight A’s.
I am proud of the way I stood within my own failure and I am proud of what I learned. As disappointing as it can be, this setback is leading me in the right direction and I’m right where I should be. There is a lifestyle apart from getting high scores in college that speaks meaning into my life, and I cannot lament in that.
4/28/11
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