Last year, I nonchalantly signed up to take second-semester organic chemistry, a k a Orgo. My friends thought I was a maso-chist. The class is reputed to be the hardest at Brown, and rumor has it that its sole purpose is to weed out pre-meds. Nobody else takes it except chemistry majors. I had come to the conclusion that I was not going to apply to medical school, and it was unnecessary for me to take the course for any other reason. Still, I figured I could always change my mind about the med school thing. And how bad could it be?EXPERIMENTAL CONDITIONS
According to statistics posted by the Orgo professors, averages on the midterm exams ranged from 47 to 65 points out of 100; by semester’s end, half of the class got C’s or failed (there are no D’s at Brown). This does not take into account the large percentage who ended up dropping the class. I know many students who failed the first time and had to take it a second or even a third time. Others retook it over the summer at pushover schools like Stanford and waltzed out with an A+.
SUBJECTS
Orgo students in pre-med carry the textbook with them wherever they go, and they always seem on the verge of panic. The chemistry majors always have smiles on their faces, either because they relish the pre-meds’ pain or because they truly get a kick out of doing organic chemistry.
One of my friends is a chemistry major, and sometimes he would help me study. When I would ask him how to do a problem, he would just tell me the correct answer. He could never explain how he had found the solution, only that my answer was wrong and his was correct. This led me to conclude that chemistry students are born with an innate and nontransferable ability to understand Orgo.
PSYCHOLOGICAL EFFECTS OF ORGO
I sometimes found it interesting to study my own reactions as I sat in class or tried to do homework problems. I found that Orgo activated my sympathetic autonomic nervous system, more commonly referred to as the “fight-or-flight response.” The response is frequently activated when a creature is placed in a situation in which it needs to attack or run away. Unfortunately, it was difficult to “attack” Orgo, and running away did not seem like a useful alternative, either.
Here is an example of my thought process as I attempted a homework problem: O.K. N,N-dimethylbutanamide is hydrolyzed faster in aqueous sodium hydroxide solution than is butanamide itself. Why? Why would it hydrolize faster? I don’t even know what all those words mean; I shouldn’t even be taking this class; for some reason this is so much more difficult than the rest of my classes; maybe it’s just because I’m not that interested; maybe I should drop out and then I would have more time to spend with my friends; maybe I need to take more humanities classes; let’s see, what other work do I have . . . MATT, FOCUS, oh, right, I should just do this now, and then I can do other things, BUT I DON’T CARE. . . .
Perhaps an anecdote can best capture the hopelessness that Orgo induces in the human psyche. As the story goes, last year, about five minutes into the exam, a kid stood up. Everyone turned to watch as he shouted, “I can’t take this [EXPLETIVE] anymore!” and ripped up his exam before storming out of the room. Some people thought that it was staged, but I think the sentiment accurately reflected what most people were thinking.
SKILLS ACQUIRED
There are benefits in taking Orgo. One is that I became more creative as the semester progressed. On one exam, I spent 20 minutes drawing a cartoon of a little man army-crawling over a carboxylic acid to get to an acetylcholine.
CONCLUSION
The final week of the semester I did the calculations and realized I would need to ace the final to pass the class. I checked with the professor just in case, and he confirmed my calculations, suggesting I skip the final and take the class again next year.
Despite this advice, I was not ready to walk away with my tail between my legs. Because of Brown’s grading policy, my transcript would not reflect the class if I dropped or failed it. But by skipping the final — and thereby dropping the class — I would be admitting defeat, and Orgo would have won.
I had made it this far. If I was going to fail, I was going to fail with dignity. I decided to take the final. I arrived at the large hall, with row upon row of worried faces, and calmly took my seat. I laid out my pencils on the desk, sensing the tension in the room but feeling distinctly separate from it. I thought about the students who felt their entire future relied on the outcome of this test, and I hoped that if I bombed I would at least bring down the average and help someone else pass the course.
The test was handed out, and the furious scribbling began. I slowly flipped through the 15-page exam, answering the two questions I knew, guessing on another and staring blankly at the rest. After about 15 minutes, I stood up and walked over to the T.A. at the front of the room. I said, “Thanks, I’m all set,” and handed him my exam.
Then 400 eyes turned to follow me as I walked out the door — and into the bright sunshine.
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