It's a man's world
* * *
"Okay," said my Organic Chem. professor, "I need everyone to spread out. Umm... Bryn, could you move over one desk? Hahaha, figures, the one person I need to move is the only person who's name I know!"
I wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Afterall, this is the professor who looks down my shirt every time I hand in an exam. I believe there is a distinct possibility my grade percentage directly correlated with the amount of cleavage shown.
Yes, I was wearing his favorite button-up form fitting shirt (thank you H&M business clothing. You know how to make a woman look professional yet feminine). I needed to pass the class in order to graduate. I'd already failed it once. Organic Chem and I have a long and bitter history. Call it an act of desperation on my behalf.
I received the test, flipped it open
and had NO idea what the hell half that stuff was about.
Yes, I had studied long and endlessly over the previous week. I don't deny I put forth the time and effort, that I spent many a sleepless night pouring over orbital theories and various reactions...
I also don't deny that I still can't tell the difference between a consitutional isomer, an identical isomer, entantiomers, diasteriomers or configurational isomers. Chiral centers make my head spin. Fischer Projections just don't work in my world.
Mostly it was a lot of guess-work on my part. Guess-work and that terrible sinking feeling you get when you know you've failed the final, that now you can't graduate, that you'll never be able to pass that #^!^$&@ course because no matter how many times you take it your brain just doesn't learn or think that way...
Final grades were posted.
I passed Organic Chemistry with a B.
B.
I have no idea how this happened. Scratch that, I do. And I don't think it's because of my sudden and new-found ability to deduce 1,2-hydride shifts or SN2 reactions.
I find it darkly ironic that my assets are also B-cup.
On one hand, I'm immensely relieved to have finally passed the class. On the other, I feel rather tainted and dirty. And slightly disgusted.
Welcome to the real world, B. What your mamma gave you may come in handy more than you could've possibly imagined.
* * *
"Okay," said my Organic Chem. professor, "I need everyone to spread out. Umm... Bryn, could you move over one desk? Hahaha, figures, the one person I need to move is the only person who's name I know!"
I wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Afterall, this is the professor who looks down my shirt every time I hand in an exam. I believe there is a distinct possibility my grade percentage directly correlated with the amount of cleavage shown.
Yes, I was wearing his favorite button-up form fitting shirt (thank you H&M business clothing. You know how to make a woman look professional yet feminine). I needed to pass the class in order to graduate. I'd already failed it once. Organic Chem and I have a long and bitter history. Call it an act of desperation on my behalf.
I received the test, flipped it open
and had NO idea what the hell half that stuff was about.
Yes, I had studied long and endlessly over the previous week. I don't deny I put forth the time and effort, that I spent many a sleepless night pouring over orbital theories and various reactions...
I also don't deny that I still can't tell the difference between a consitutional isomer, an identical isomer, entantiomers, diasteriomers or configurational isomers. Chiral centers make my head spin. Fischer Projections just don't work in my world.
Mostly it was a lot of guess-work on my part. Guess-work and that terrible sinking feeling you get when you know you've failed the final, that now you can't graduate, that you'll never be able to pass that #^!^$&@ course because no matter how many times you take it your brain just doesn't learn or think that way...
Final grades were posted.
I passed Organic Chemistry with a B.
B.
I have no idea how this happened. Scratch that, I do. And I don't think it's because of my sudden and new-found ability to deduce 1,2-hydride shifts or SN2 reactions.
I find it darkly ironic that my assets are also B-cup.
On one hand, I'm immensely relieved to have finally passed the class. On the other, I feel rather tainted and dirty. And slightly disgusted.
Welcome to the real world, B. What your mamma gave you may come in handy more than you could've possibly imagined.
* * *