Surviving chemistry.

Byline: Sarah Fischer 20Below News Team/The Register-Guard

I like to believe I have a great interest in academics. And I do. I really do.

I enjoy the novels in literature class. I can get passionate about Spanish verb conjugations, and I'm always asking my art teacher what I could do to make my self-portrait actually look like me.

So, I was fairly confident when I stepped into chemistry on the first day of the class this past school year. I'd heard horror stories, sure, though nothing out of the ordinary.

`Teacher A has a quiz every single day!' `Teacher B's tests are seven pages long.' And, ``Teacher C made us inhale helium as part of a lab, and boy was it fun!'' While only one of these terrifying tales proved to be true (I'll let you guess), I have emerged with plenty of my own.

The class started out well enough. I breezed through worksheets that defined "chemistry" and "science." Over time, though, the words got harder and harder. While the definition of chemistry may be "the study of matter," none of this stuff really seemed to.

How was knowing how to use the Pauli exclusion principal, and decipher a quantum mechanical model, going to help me teach English to eager ninth-graders? Why should someone who would probably choose the major "not science or math," if it were offered, have to become an expert on combustion reactions vs. double replacements?

On the plus side, I've set many personal records throughout the course. I recently received my all-time lowest grade on a test - ever (you'll have to guess at this one, too).

I also received the most bizarre suggestion from my teacher. During a lab, when dealing with masses of gasses, my teacher and I crouched down on the floor together, filling my beaker with oxygen. As our sandaled feet faced each other, the conversation turned toward toes, and she informed me that I "needed a pedicure." While this is most likely true, the probability of the event happening can be expressed in this simple calculation: ``1mol H20 + 4mol CO2 = never gonna happen.''

There are also many things about chemistry that thoroughly confuse me, aside from the subject matter. Why must one wear protective goggles when partaking in a lab that consists of mixing salt and water, or measuring the volume of oxygen? (Especially when said goggles are frequently lost, thus forcing the owner to use community goggles. Or, when said goggles are found, thus leading the owner to be sure someone else has been using them. Eew.)

Why must the one freshman in the class consistently get the top scores? How is it possible that no matter how hard we try, my lab partner and I are always the last ones out of the laboratory?

I have to admit I was counting down the days this spring before the end of school - and chemistry. No more crumpled homework, dropped crucibles and goggle marks.

I'll try to keep an open mind about science, though. And next year?

Biology, here I come!

Sarah Fischer will be a junior this fall at Sheldon High. She can be reached at 20Below@ guardnet.com.