5.5 Weeks in Hell

5.5 Weeks in Hell

Wake up at 7am.  Do the usual morning tasks.  Study on the train.  Go to class.  Eat lunch.  Go to the library.  Study for five hours. Eat dinner. Go to office hours.  Study on the train ride home. Go to bed at 9pm. Repeat.  This became my reality during finals week at the University of Pennsylvania.  I was taking Microeconomics, a class usually taught during a whole semester, but I was taking it in a mere 5.5 weeks.  Yikes!

When I heard about the Penn Young Scholar Program I knew it was something that I wanted to do. The Penn Young Scholar Program allows local high school students to take college level classes.  Unfortunately, I didn’t hear about it until four days before the application was due.  My test scores were not the best and I had to scramble to get letters of recommendation from my teachers.  I wrote the application essay in one sitting.  I didn’t expect to get in because of these factors.

A few weeks later I got an email titled “admission decision.” My heart was pounding and my veins were tingling as I opened the email.  I got in!  I had never been so proud of myself. My uncharacteristic scream of joy boomed through the house, waking my dad and we had our own celebration at 1am.

The next day I got an email from my college advisor that told me what I had to do. I had to create a Penn email account, my very own .edu email address. After I created it, I just stared at the blank gmail account for a while. Looking at jaredbau@sas.upenn.edu was one of the greatest moments in my life. I had traveled from the ignominy Dyslexia to seeing the Penn shield shimmer in my gmail.  

I arrived at the first class 45 minutes early. This would be the beginning of the longest 5.5 weeks of my life. To my surprise I was not the first one there. Three students were playing a strange computer game.  “Hey,” I introduced myself.

After a brief hello they went back to their game, speaking some game jargon I barely understood. This interaction was the beginning of my concern that the people in my class would be very different than me.  As more and more students poured into the room I sensed that I would have trouble relating.  Not one person looked like they would share the common interest of sports, which is usually my go to for small talk. Many of them were older than me as they were undergraduates at the University, but some were also still in high school.  To make matters worse it appeared that many of the students already knew each other, which was puzzling to me as it was only the first day.  I later found out that they met in the dorms and became friends. This would enable them to study together later in the course.

Despite my isolation the Microeconomics class started off fairly well.  But I did notice myself acting differently in the classroom than in high school. During the first week I was far quieter than usual and asked few questions. I was scared of the “big stage” of college.  I also wanted to sound smart in front of my new classmates, especially after saying something dumb the first time I answered a question.  I definitely did not want to be the class idiot, something I never worried about in high school but everybody there just seemed “off the charts” smart. In spite of all this I got 100 percent credit on all homework assignments. Leading up to the first test on that Friday, I had a four hour marathon study session in the library and began to feel somewhat comfortable with the course’s content. Later at office hours, I tweaked my knowledge on the topics about which I had been confused.

Going into the first test, despite knowing the content well, I was very nervous.  It was my first college test and there was certain mystique with that.  I took the test and it was much like every other test I had ever taken.  I had plenty of time at the end test to check my work and twiddle my thumbs.  After the 45 minutes of taking the test I submitted it confident in my two pages of work.  After the test, my professor was going over the answers of the quiz in the front of class and I got every question correct on test. I began to walk away feeling triumph that I could do the work at Penn. However, a girl in the class called me back and said, “Don’t you want to see the answers to the third page?”

“There was a third page?” I asked in panic.

“Yeah, there was.”

I turned to my professor and pleaded, “There was no third page stapled onto my test.”  She showed me the third page of the test devoid of answers.  I was heartbroken.

The professor tried to comfort a stressed out me, but my mind was already racing about how much I had botched the quiz. How many points had I lost?  Could my grade recover from this? I stewed for the rest of the class about how I missed the last page.  I knew I had to focus on next week’s material in order to do well.

I got my grade back for the first quiz.  It was an 86%.  It was disappointing because I knew the answers to all the question I missed. However, it would had been much worse if there were more questions on the last page.

The following week's material was primarily about elasticity, taxes and subsidies.  Words that strike fear into my heart to this day!  The work was 10 levels above any work I had ever done before.  There were over 6 different formulas and I had to know how and when to use all of them.  The graphs had what felt like 20 lines, each showing an intricate detail important to solving problems.  I could no longer use the tricks I had used graphing in high school as these were too complex.

I was lost and I had no one to turn to for help.  I still didn’t have a classmate I would call a friend and nobody I knew had taken economics in the last 30 years.  I continued to do the work the best I could but I knew it wasn’t correct.  Worst of all, everybody else in the class seemed to get the work. There was a homework assignment that week that I had spent 6 hours on, but still couldn’t finish. My note to the professor on Canvas read in part, “I spent 5-6 hours working on it over a couple of days but I was still very confused. I fell asleep working at my computer and when I woke up and I just had to submit what I had. If I could at some credit for questions that I did that would be great, but if it doesn't work that way in the class, I understand.”  I got no credit on that assignment and no response on that message which annoyed me. But the test on the new content was coming up and there was no way around that. I had to get ready and I was feeling very nervous that I wasn’t going to be able learn the material. On the Thursday before the test I did the same thing I did the previous Thursday, hoping that it would help me master the content.  I went to the library and studied for hours. Then at office hours I studied some more.  

The test day was Friday.  I still was not feeling very confident and I predicted that I would get a modest 75% on the test, which would be my worst grade since the first grade.  My professor handed me the test and said “Three pages” as she chuckled a little.  I began going through the test and answering the questions not feeling too great about my answers.  I turned it in and my teacher went over the answers. I had missed 3 out 4 multiple choice questions. That put my maximum grade for the quiz at a 70%.  I quickly excused myself to the bathroom and stirred with anger towards myself.  I left bathroom, walked up the hall and screamed “FUCK” in the middle of the McNeil Building.  I don’t think anyone heard, but I’m not sure.

I got home and later that night I got an email from canvas saying the test was graded.  I didn’t want to look but I forced myself to. I got a 48! I fell into a state of depression that night. My whole identity as a smart guy was challenged. I felt like I was ready to give up. It was the last day that I was allowed to drop the class with no damage to my college transcript and would only have  to pay half the cost.  The next day I saw my friend Ben and his dad, a college professor, and they persuaded me to stick it out considering I could drop one of three quiz scores.  I also figured I was nearly halfway through this hell and if I quit now I would have nothing to show for it. Seeing him also gave me a much needed break from the endless stress of the class.

I knew I had to change in order to be successful.  Most importantly, I needed help.  I looked up economics tutors in the area and found one.  While Paige was far from perfect, as she had not taken Intro to Microeconomics in five years, working together we were able to solve problems.  I also knew I needed a friend in the class, even if he or she weren’t the ideal match.  I started talking to Leo and Rohan after class.  We were able to help each other on the nightly homework problems and it enabled me to talk about the class with someone who was actually there. Finally, I had to commit to working at another level.  I had to study as if every day were the day before an exam, which meant at least six hours of studying every afternoon.

After completing the midterm I was sure I got a score in at least the high 70s. I got a 66 which upset me, but it didn’t destroy my grade either. Once again I felt depressed about my score. I considered withdrawing from the course but I still had over 75 percent in the class, as I could drop the lowest quiz.  I knew a withdrawal would look like I was failing. I told myself to “gut it out” and that there were only two more weeks of hell and then it would be over.  

For the next quiz I studied more than I had for the midterm as I was frustrated about my grade.  I knew this quiz had to go well or I wasn’t going to be able to drop the abysmal 48.  After the test, I learned I got 2 of 4 multiple choice questions wrong from other students; my professor wasn’t going over the quiz this time.  I felt like I couldn’t catch a break as I missed both multiple choice questions where I had eliminated all but two choices.  Consequently, the maximum grade I could get was an 80%.  I was more nervous than ever waiting for the grade.  I felt like I did the short answer question correctly, but one mistake could throw the whole problem, leaving me with an “D” or “F”.  I only lost two points on the short answer to a minor error. I was relieved to see a 78%; my chances at “C” were looking good as I had a 76% in the class with the final exam and participation grades left.  

More good news was to come during finals week.  The course’s grade was going to be curved.  Anything between a 76 and 88 was a B.  My participation grade came in as perfect; I participated much more as the class went on, and I was feeling good with a 78% going into the final.  I calculated that I needed a 72% to end with a “B” for the class.  I knew a 72 was not going to be as easy, as it was a cumulative final.  I never knew where and how the questions were going to “attack.” I grinded to point that week where everything I did was microeconomics.  I worked every waking hour on the course as a “B” would leave a positive impression on my college application; however, a “C” would look decent at best.

I was nervous as I started the final exam.  But I soon  fell into a zone where I methodically moved through the test. The three hours were over in what felt like no time.  I thought I got my 72% but this time I was unwilling to predict a score as I had not been accurate before.  After the final I said goodbye to the library where I grinded many long hours and then fell asleep for 16 consecutive hours.

For next four days I obsessively checked my email, waiting for the grade to come in. The email came in that my course grade was posted.  I felt my heart pumping and my veins tingling just like at the beginning of the journey when I was clicking the email to see if I got into the program.  I got a 76% which meant B! I was as happy as a child in Disney World.