Prosaic Paradise

So. I made it to the Howard County Community College advising hours, and after looking at my unofficial transcripts, they OKed me for either or both of the remaining classes I need. After some thought I decided to take Chemistry first, in the regular-size semester, because it will be harder. I know this because I’ve taken it twice and it was painful both times.

The first time was around 1992. I believe it was the summer before senior year in high school. See, at my schmancy private school they offered all three AP sciences, and you had a choice. I can’t quite recall what my driving need was to take all three of them, but in order to do this I had to voluntarily sign up for (and wheedle my parents into paying for) a summer school session of Chemistry. I can only assume I was just a giant fucking nerdburger and felt I had to prove it. I somehow involved Genie in this plan as well, or she involved me, I’m not sure. It was mutual assured nerdstruction. What followed was several tear-filled weeks of desperate A-chasing.

My most vivid memory of that summer – scratch that – I have two or three vivid memories. I know that I practiced crafting the smallest possible handwriting ever recorded, because one feature of the class was an allowed one-sided cheat sheet for each exam. I remember (please forgive me for this Genie – or hopefully you already have) desperately trying to spy what Genie got on her exams to see if I did better. (Supporting the “something to prove” theory above.) And finally I recall sitting on the stone benches outside the “Pit” actually crying because I did not get an A on something. I remember very distinctly feeling burning shame over that, and I can’t remember if it was because Genie did better than me (again, I am so sorry I used to be an ass) or just my own whatever. But in the interest of full disclosure, it is a memory that stuck with me.

I got another chance to take Chem in college. I guess my AP scores were not up to par. (Physics had been a right disaster; something fell apart for me around the lens chapter. Best not discussed.) Unfortunately, I figured I could pass without attending the class at all. That did not work. I have virtually no memory of burning shame at my failure because it was totally washed away by the actual clinical depression I was experiencing. Good times.

So now I’m coming back for more of this, since shockingly HCC won’t accept a 10 year old D. I am some kind of glutton for punishment. Although, eeeeverything is different now – hopefully I’m not an ass. And I’m not contemplating throwing myself through a plate glass window. And I remember the first two elements on the periodic table. I think that is a good place to start.

Tags: class, hindsight, History, School

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