Learning – I Don’t Know Anything

How to Study: Cumulative Science Exams

A large back pack and a stack of textbooks rest on a coffee table in a messy living room. — Finals time!

It’s probably obvious that I’ve been busy these last three months or so, since I’ve barely written anything here. Yes, we’ve been running around like chickens with our heads cut off as we tend to sick children and our respective work and school duties as the house devolves into something close to a public health crisis. But some things just need to get done on a schedule, like exams and church meetings, while other things, like dust bunnies, can wait. I started writing this post around midterms, and now finals are upon us. That gives you a sense of how busy I’ve been.

One of the classes that I’m taking this semester is notoriously difficult at my school. Last semester I heard students talking about how hard it is, and I wondered if it really were that hard or if people just didn’t know how to study. Now that I’m in the class, I will say that it’s a bit of both. Forewarned about the difficulty of the class, one brave student asked the professor how students usually do on the midterm. His answer? “I’m usually pretty bummed.” Well then.

What to do? How to study? The test covered 350 pages of very dense material plus lab techniques. There was no study guide, even though students asked for one (and to be honest, I can’t really disagree with the professor’s approach). If you have no clue where to start, or if you thought that you had a clue but your grades say otherwise, hang tight. I will tell you how to study. I’m happy (actually thrilled and surprised) to tell you that I got a 96.8% on the micro midterm. That includes a few stupid mistakes because I was sick, so suffice it to say my plan works. I don’t say thing to brag, but you wouldn’t trust my advice if I got a C on the exam, would you? No, you wouldn’t.

Oh, I should also say that we all know That Person who frets and frets over exams and loudly proclaims how they just know that they failed, and everyone rolls their eyes and bites their tongues because That Person always gets straight A’s. I’m not that person. Usually if I get a good grade, I walk away from the test knowing that I did well because I know the material. When people ask “Wasn’t that hard?!” I just say something diplomatic like, “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be” and go on my merry way. I don’t go on about how hard an exam was unless I actually thought it was hard. This one was hard. I left the exam having honestly no idea how I did.

Are you just dying to know how I did it? Yes, you are. You know you are, because you want good grades, too. And you can get them, if you work hard and smart. Without further delay, here’s the plan.

Read.Keep up with assignments and readings all semester. That’s right, studying effectively for any exam means starting way before the exam. It starts on day one. There is just no way that you can cram 350 pages of reading and hundreds of flashcards into a few days. Not happening. But if you haven’t been keeping up, don’t tune out. Keep reading and do what you can.

Set Expectations. Talk to your professor and know his expectations. Try to ask more specific questions than the very vague “What will be on the exam?” If the class is microbiology, then the answer is, “duh, microbiology.” In this case, we were told that the exam was cumulative, and he told us that it would be a combination of multiple choice, true-false, fill-in-the-blank, and free response questions. I asked what level of detail he was looking for. Would he get super granular, or would he be looking for broad, overarching concepts? Would the multiple-choice section be on a Scantron, and would I need a pencil? His answers: not granular, no Scantron. Great. So I knew that moving forward, any knowledge of details would be at the service of the big picture. He probably wouldn’t be asking about a specific step or molecule in a metabolic pathway.

Flash Cards. Make and review flash cards. This is something that should be done all semester as you read so that when you get to the exam, you’re just reviewing. My personal favorite flash card app is Anki. The desktop version is free, but I sprung the $25 for the iPad app. It is amazing! I might do a separate post on Anki. But back to my main point, use what works for you and just do your flash cards. Your textbook’s keywords and glossary are a great place to start. I make a card for every keyword, equation, symbol, conversion factor, important chemical compound, whatever. Also keep an eye out for anything that your professor calls out in lecture. If your professor says, “This will be on the test,” don’t be stupid and ignore that. Take the low-hanging fruit.

DIY Study Guide. Make your own study guide. This is the good part, and there are several ways to do this. Consider the resources you have at your disposal and then make them work with what I say here. In this class, my professor had PowerPoint slides of lecture notes that he uploaded to the class website after class. This is hands-down you best source of information about what the professor wants you to know. I learned this lesson the hard way on my last chemistry exam when I relied on the book instead of the professor’s notes to learn all of the strong acids (the book failed to list one that was on the exam). You will often find clues about what he considers important in the form of bold words, slide headings (think overarching concepts), bulleted lists, and other annotations. Is there a picture that appears in almost every lecture (*cough, cough* phylogenetic tree of life)?

Armed with my lecture slides, I started to make my study guide. But how? It’s easier than you think. As you read through the slides/notes/whatever, look for learning goals and ask yourself if you have met them. If you can’t immediately say “yes” with confidence, then rework the learning goal into a question, and then dig in your lecture notes, book notes, and textbook for answers. Type the answer into your study guide, and make sure that you understand the answer. For example, one slide heading was “Determining the Level of Antimicrobial Activity” followed by a list of three methods and a series of slides elaborating on each method. So the question that comes to mind and goes in the study guide is, “What are three ways to determine the level of antimicrobial activity?” Then I answer my question with three bullet points under the question with some concise ideas, like “Kirby-Bauer disk diffusion tests—put disks with different drugs on inoculated medium, see which has biggest clear zone around it, disk diameter related to microbial resistance, KB used to determine safe dosing.” Sometimes as you read, you’ll think of a question that isn’t on the guide. Put that down.

But what if your professor doesn’t provide lecture notes or slides? Please tell me that you’ve been taking lecture notes all semester. Please. Because if you haven’t been, you’re probably out of luck. Either that or you’re in the very embarrassing position of having to ask a classmate for notes (if you’re going to do this, offer something in return—like the study guide you make from said borrowed notes). Even if your professor does give notes, I still recommend reviewing your own lecture and book notes to add to the guide. Sometimes the book will provide a different angle or level of depth on the topic at hand. Sometimes the book will phrase things in a way that clicks with you when your professor’s explanation is confusing.

When do you write your study guide? You have two options. Do it as you go, adding a little bit each week as you study, or do it all in one go, starting at least a week ahead of the exam. It should go without saying that you should start earlier if you need to cover more material. If you’re a nontraditional student with a family, pad in time for emergencies (that’s good advice for anyone, but you’re more likely to have emergencies with kids). Over the past two months, everyone in the family has been sick multiple times. We’ve dealt with fevers around 105 for all kids (including an ED visit) on multiple occasions, croup, random vomit, a Crohn’s attack for my husband, and pink eye and some sort of flu-like virus for Nana. If you’re in a similar position where you could be losing weeks of study time throughout the semester, be smart and start studying well in advance of your exam.

And that’s the bulk of the plan. You can also review any online exercises bundled with your textbook, do practice problems (good for chemistry, math, and physics), and review previous assignments like quizzes, homeworks, and exams. I found the online homework questions for microbiology to be helpful as I fell asleep with visions of vancomycin in my head. If your professor provides a study guide, use it. Obviously. If you’ve done all of the above and still have questions about concepts, go to office hours or ask a classmate.

Finally, if you do feel ready for your exam, why not help out a struggling friend and share your study guide or flashcards? (Digital flashcards only, though—last semester a classmate asked if he could have my hand-written muscle flashcards, complete with origin, insertion, and nerves. Obviously I said no. Come on, dude. I was kind enough to tell him that I just copied everything out of the lab manual so at least he could make his own.) No, you’re not doing the work for them or hurting your chances of getting the highest grade in the class. If you see that someone is struggling, be kind and help out. Remember, people aren’t going to college just to get passing grades. They’re going to build a knowledge base that will serve them in their careers, which may serve us all in the end. If you have any inkling what you’re doing, extend a helping hand a be a part of someone else’s success.

Got any questions on how to study? Leave a comment and I’ll try to write a post about it 🙂

Facing My Fears

This week I did something very, very scary. What was it? Bungee jumping? Public speaking? Revealing my stretch marks and cellulite in a bikini? Oh, no, it was much, much scarier than any of those things. I officially declared a major in chemistry.

Are you disappointed? You were probably bracing yourself for a death-defying tale of bravery, and instead you have to read about college. But I encourage you to read on. Even if this story doesn’t resonate with you or inspire you in the least, you can at least exercise your empathy muscles here.

Sometimes things that are not terribly scary to the masses are scary to the individual because of that person’s past experiences. Like how most people are OK with cats, but a person who has been attacked by one may be terrified of your sweet pet. Well, I was attacked by chemistry about twenty years ago, and it’s taken a while for me to recover. Here is a brief recounting of my woeful tale of failure and subsequent phoenix-like rise from the ashes. I admit that that’s a bit dramatic, but I don’t care. That’s how I feel about it, and this is my story. That’s just how important this is to me—facing my fears has vivified me in ways that I could never have imagined.

Many years ago I entered college with high hopes as a biology major with the aspiration of becoming a wildlife biologist. In retrospect, this was an awful plan because I’m terrified of birds—a vital and abundant part of wildlife—and had absolutely no idea what research entailed. Back then, before the job market tanked and the harsh reality of student loans entered the public’s consciousness, the standard college advice was to do what you loved. I loved nature (except birds) and being outside, so that was my decision. It made sense at the time.

My studies got off to a really rocky start. I got poor grades in biology and math, but I thought that I could salvage things and plow forward. Then I took chemistry. With a D in general chemistry, an F in organic chemistry, and a W from molecular cell biology, a science major wasn’t going to work. The defeat was soul-crushing. See, when you’re a nerd and don’t have friends, you have school. You escape to college out of town for a fresh start at something that you’re good at, and then you fail. When you comfort yourself with the thought “Well, I may not have friends, but I’m smart! I’ll make something of myself!” and then you don’t make something of yourself, what do you have left? You don’t have hope, you don’t have purpose, you don’t have an identity. All I had was being smart, and that was gone. Even the few friendships that I had developed in college caused me pain as I watched almost everyone in my friend group join PBK and pursue doctorates after graduation.

I moved on with life, getting married, earning a master’s degree, and working various jobs. Eventually Frankie and I started a family, and life was good. But deep in the back of my mind, my failures still haunted me. For over a decade after my college graduation, I had nightmares that the college revoked my degree because the D in chemistry was not good enough to satisfy my physical science requirement after all. Obviously this affected me very deeply, and it even bothered me that it bothered me. I wondered what was wrong with me that it bothered me so much. Like, get over it and move on with life already. What’s done is done. Let it go and focus on the work in front of you. So I gave away all of my old science textbooks, reconciled to the notion that I would never need them again and that I needed to let go of the past. A few months later, I got the nutty idea to be a doctor and now had no science books. Murphy’s Law always works.

Being a doctor requires chemistry, and a fair amount at that. Virtually all medical schools require four semesters of chemistry and one semester of biochemistry as prerequisites. I knew that if I wanted to do this, I had to face my fear head-on and slay the chemistry beast. I made a plan. Before spending money on school, I needed to convince myself that I could handle chemistry. If I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t be a doctor, so tackle that first. Success in an earlier, albeit unrelated, masters program combined with the knowledge that my grandfather had a master’s degree in chemistry (thanks for the genes, Pop) inspired a modicum of hope. I enrolled in a free Coursera chemistry course online, and would you believe it? I understood it. I had the confidence that I needed to take the next step. And then the next, and then the next.

That was a year ago. Fast forward to fall 2018, and I retook general chemistry I. Much to my surprise, I kept waiting for the class to get hard, but it never did (oh, I know that it will at some point!). What’s more, I enjoyed it. I reveled in setting up my equations and really diving into how things worked. I died a little inside each time a lab partner ignored sig figs. Each lecture inspired more questions and wonder—what is a Schrödinger equation, and what exactly does it tell us about atomic orbitals? How much calculus do you need to understand a Schrödinger equation? What exactly is angular momentum? Could I apply what I learned in analytic geometry twenty years ago about vectors’ magnitude and direction to bond polarity? (I learned the answer to that last question this week—yes, I can.)

At the end of the semester, my chemistry professor asked me if I would consider changing my major from health science to chemistry. Initially I dismissed her suggestion, but the more I considered it, the more I liked it. After my epic failure during college round one, I had played it safe because failing again would have torn me apart. The problem with that mentality is that you miss out on a lot of life—no risk, no reward. I’m done with that. Instead of fearing defeat, I anticipate the victory, which only gets sweeter as the fight gets harder. Yes, I’m still scared. Even professors’ eyes pop out of their heads when you mention the change to chemistry. They get this look like “Are you sure you want to do that to your GPA? Are you crazy?” Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Whatever I am, I’m having fun learning and am rejoicing in my newfound confidence and mindset. Facing my fears has been one of the best decisions of my life.

Survival Mode versus Learning Mode

My history collection has been waiting for me.

Once upon a time, I completed a history degree from one of our country’s most esteemed liberal arts colleges. Indeed, I am privileged to share an alma mater with multiple presidents, founding fathers, and elder statesmen. I didn’t just study history—I was surrounded by it. Being both a bibliophile and a recovering pack-rat, I have thus amassed quite a nice collection of high-quality history books, which I have recently been purging. Surely as the proud owner and presumed reader of said books I must have learned quite a bit, you ask. Well, no. I know squat about history, and you know why? Because I was in survival mode, not learning mode.

My first college degree didn’t go quite as well as planned for various and sundry reasons that I may enumerate at a later date. Or not. We’ll see. Long story short, I ended up having to switch my major from biology to history halfway through my junior year with zero history credits under my belt. At that point, I was focused on passing and graduating and simply didn’t have the bandwidth to learn much of anything. But I got a second chance at college and am now studying for a science degree with the goal of completing the prerequisites for med school. That’s a different post for a different day.

One of the best parts of being a non-traditional student is that I have a totally different perspective on learning and higher education. This time, I don’t have to learn—I get to learn. And what a privilege that is! Don’t get me wrong—going to school the first time was an enormous privilege, but I didn’t have the tools at the time to make the most of the opportunity. Now I get a second chance at something that I’ve always wanted, and I’m getting so much more out of it.

When you focus on learning, the good grades come as a natural result of being genuinely engaged with the content. As a rule, I remember things that interest me, so if I just focus on that aspect of the material, I’m usually good. Panicking about grades only robs my mind of energy that I could be using the learn, and learning makes me very happy indeed. Learning makes me feel alive.

Sometimes it puzzles me when my young classmates are complaining about their workload or concepts that I think are really, really cool (Hess’s Law is so elegant! Asymptotes are beautiful!) Then I remember that I was once in their shoes, totally overwhelmed by life when I didn’t even have one yet. Perspective is something that only comes with time and experience. I find myself thinking, “Wow, all I had to do back then was study, and I totally blew it!” But that experience of blowing it has paradoxically given me an energy and drive that I couldn’t fathom as an eighteen-year-old.

Now that I don’t have to read all of these history books, I can’t wait to read them. A few years ago I dipped back into a book on the French Annales School by Peter Burke, and I’m particularly excited to revisit The Book of Memory by Mary Carruthers and The Knight, the Lady and the Priest by Georges Duby. If you, too, are interested in learning instead of just getting a passing grade (or maybe you’re done with school but just want to read), I highly recommend How to Read a Book: The Classic Guide to Intelligent Reading by Mortimer J. Adler and Charles Van Doren.

If you have an opportunity to learn, don’t waste it—embrace it. Happy reading and learning, friends!

PS—If you’re not into nonfiction, I highly recommend the authors Liane Moriarty and David Sedaris. Moriarty does insightful and funny chick-lit set in Australia, and Sedaris is an American humorist.