Chapter 17
"Before you guys leave for the weekend, I'm giving back last week's exam." The white-haired spectacled man announced. He pulled out his pocket watch and squinted down at the time through his wire-rimmed glasses. They were on his schedule.
"The class average was 72. The highest grade was 102, so there will be no curve." The professor continued.
There was a collective moan let out from the students. Everyone silently cursing the genius who got a perfect score and the bonus correct. Most of the students in the class relied on a generous curve to ensure their GPA. A perfect score ruined the chance of a few point curve each student could have received on their final grade.
The professor shrugged at the class's response. To him, it didn't matter if the class liked it or not. If half of them dropped out and changed their majors. He had tenure; his new goal was to become the new head of undergraduate studies. An administrator job paid far more. After thirty years in research, he felt he paid his dues. He had published enough papers to support some corporations' claim on climate change to get donations. Teaching the general chemistry class was to fulfill the minimum required hours. He began calling names for students to come down and collect their exams.
June was always a nervous test taker. She was sitting in a front couple of rows of the giant lecture hall, in a sea of over 200 students.
Alex, her floppy hair friend, was sitting next to her. He looked relax. "It is what it is, June. It won't be the end of the world."
"Easy for you to say, you always do great," June replied.
Alex laughed. "June, one B in a class won't be the end of the world. Medical schools will understand."
June did her best to give a glare through her squinty eyes.
Alex continued but softened up. "One look at your resume and anyone can tell you're an overachiever. Plus, you do well when you think you did terribly". Alex whispered. Before June could reply, he got up to get his exam.
He wasn't incorrect. June did above average, but she also scored poorly on exams she thought were straightforward. She never felt like she could trust herself to know all the material. It was impossible unless you had a photographic memory, which some students did have. Under sleep deprivation from all-nighters, the different subjects she'd study got jumbled. They fought for space in her brain. And when she looked down at the paper, she thought of equations for biomechanics. She packed up her bag and went to retrieve her exam when her name was called.
On the front page of the exam, she scored a 88. Next to it, her professor wrote, "You can do better."
June felt her heart fall into her stomach. She walked up the stairs glancing at the faces of her classmates still waiting. Many discouraged as well. This was the first exam. There would only be one other that determined everyone's fate in the class. For many of them, they'd rather drop the course and retake it with an easier professor. A third of the class could be gone by next week.
June didn't financially have the option to retake classes. It was too late in the semester to get a refund if you dropped or failed. Each course was over four thousand dollars. One thousand dollars per credit hour. She shook her head, thinking about all the university's money when a student had a lousy teacher, failed a class, or switched majors. Another 80,000 dollars a year per student that had to take another year or two to graduate. The university offered out loans at low rates but felt no remorse if the student was unemployable afterward. June exited the hall and found a group of her friends from last semester comparing grades.
Alex was standing with Tyler, Michaela, and Chase. They were a tight group last semester before greek rush. It was rare to find somewhat social and smart kids on the pre-med track. They contradicted each other. Most students kept to themselves with their eyes on the prize. They were focused on honor societies instead of greek ones. Thinking of their friends as their future competitors for acceptance into graduate school. Most extroverted students who wanted to go to college for the memories, sports games, and "long term" friendships didn't pick challenging classes. Being pre-med was too demanding and filtered out the party kids quickly.
"What you get?" Chase asked when June walked over.
"88," Alex answered for her, looking over her shoulder. "Pretty good, considering he was trying to trick us with the whole last problem."
"88, Damn, I'd kill for an 88." Tyler held up his 70.
"Did you even have time to study last weekend?" Alex asked.
"Hardly, I was on pledge rides most nights, and then we had chapter on Sunday," Tyler replied, looking worried.
"Tyler, you should ask your brothers if they have the test bank. I know that's how the kids in the business school get by." Michaela offered.
"Test bank?" Tyler looked up a little more hopeful.
"Yea, all the sororities and fraternities need to maintain a certain GPA's. It's a perk. They help each other out. It's pdfs of all the home-works, quizzes and exams from different teachers to different subjects. Teachers are lazy and add a question or two that's new." Chase answered.
"Fucking sweet," Tyler said. None of them were surprised that there was cheating going on. Tyler had even admitted to them that he had paid someone to take the SAT's for him. It wasn't hard to take a photo of someone, make them a new student ID card, and then change the name.
"Chase, what did you get?" June asked.
"80. Lucked out, I guess." Chase said when the rest of them looked at him.
June had let Chase cheat off of her. He would sit in the row behind her. Then would gently kick the back of her chair on a problem he needed help with. June wrote the answers in large letters at the top right-hand corner of her exam. Then when Chase coughed to signal he got it, she'd erase it.
June was used to people trying to cozy up to her since she was the Asian girl in class. Sometimes the only one. People automatically assumed that she was good at math or science. The joke was on them since math was her worst subject. Even after her parents sent her to math camp in the summers, her mother couldn't understand why June couldn't apply to more Ivy League schools.
"Mom, they won't accept another pre-med first-generation Asian. I don't have above a 4.0. I don't play an instrument. I suck at math. In comparison to all the other Asians, I'm below average. Plus, we can't pay the full price. $100,00 a year? The application itself is another $200 and then another 2000 word essay." June would repeat the facts to her mother a thousand times at the kitchen table.
"Then don't put down you're Asian. Don't worry about the money, just get into a good school, or all this is a waste!" Her mom waved her hand as if that was that simple.
"It won't matter. They can tell from my last name. What non-Asian has the name YANG? And then, if I do get an interview, they'll be able to tell. It's the same tune they hear over and over. "I want to be a doctor/lawyer because I want to help people." The school doesn't care if you're well rounded. Mom, I've read all the application blogs. They are trying to diversify. Accept more minorities and people of color. Asians are the MAJORITY at these schools." June said.
"Mrs. Liu's daughter got into Brown. She's Asian. But she's not as distracted with friends as you are, which is why she gets good grades." Mrs. Yang replied.
"Mrs. Liu's husband is the administrator at Tufts Medical school. These other students have recommendation letters from prestigious people. Who run hospitals, big pharmaceutical companies, and notable alumni." June said. She didn't have those connections to work off of.
"You still need to apply. Or else you're lazy. Just like your sister." Mrs. Yang was stubborn about the idea that one of her children would attend an elite university. It was the ultimate brag among Asian parents on WeChat.
"It's a business. They serve themselves. Universities would rather accept foreign exchange students than US students. In some of these elite schools, one of five students is Chinese or Indian. They score higher and pay full price. Sometimes three times more than in-state students at public schools. I read somewhere that International students combined paid $41 Billion last year for tuition. That doesn't include rent in Boston or Brooklyn or Berkley or DC. The more prestigious the school, the more expensive. Then these students work for the teachers for half the price in exchange for a visa. They pay for the name, not education." June yelled.
"I'm sick of your excuses. If you don't think you're good enough, then they won't either. I'm so ashamed that my children ended up this way." Mrs. Yang shook in anger.
"What's Georgetown? I've never heard of it." Mrs. Yang looked at the acceptance letter, confused. She was frustrated by the rejections from the ten ivy league schools she made June apply to. June wasn't surprised, annoyed by the waste of time.
"It's an excellent school. Top 50 in the US. Plus, they offered me some money too." June knew it was wishful thinking for her mom ever to be satisfied.
"How much?" Mrs. Yang asked.
"A grant of $12,000 a year if I keep my GPA above a 3.5. And we qualify for financial aid since our family income is less than $100,000 a year."
"That's too little. We need more. Your Daddy makes too little. Call them, figure it out." Mrs. Yang replied.
"I could go to the state school for free, mom. I got into there for free." June said.
"No. Out of the question." Mrs. Yang replied.
June and Chase had been friends since orientation. They were both at Georgetown by chance. June felt like they were a small percentage of the freshman class who had never gone to a private school before. He understood where she was coming from. Chase was a genuine Indiana farm boy from a small town.
June liked public school kids and people who came from first-generation families. They joked about buses, goodwill shopping, spending the weekends running around hayfields. They talked about their first childhood jobs and going to Asian or Polish Markets. Hmart runs and unique cuisines. She found it easier to engage with them. They felt more grounded, salt of the earth people.
Not all private school kids acted like Crazy Krista, her roommate's annoying stalker. Braggadocios about her dad's money. Where they vacationed or if they skied in the swiss alps or aspen. June and Chase spend their winters shoveling driveways for quick cash. They had never had ski or snowboard lessons before.
Chase was the only person from last semester who would still hang out with June after getting into the "nice girl" sorority. In the primitive stages, greek life hierarchies were worse than high school. The online anonymous ranking sites were nauseatingly ruthless. Calling Pi Phi the geeky, fat girl club. Chase had rushed that semester as well and got into a pretty good one, Sigma Nu. Alex didn't rush taking on club soccer instead. Tyler rushed and did the best with Sigma Epsilon.
Michaela hugged June. "Hi sweetie, how are you!" Michaela was one of June's closest friends last semester. Her lab partner for two classes and honestly the sweetest girl in her hall. She matched made Michaela and Chase. Helping them text each other. But now Michaela was in Tri delt with her roommate Kate, and the paradigm shifted.
June was shocked at the difference in attitude a few weeks made. They agreed greek life wouldn't change their friendships. But June realized it didn't matter if they were all once friends. Things in college were temporary.
"I get it people grow apart. But there's a basic sense of respect for someone you used to spend time with. People here are willing to act like you never existed because it's more convenient for them." June texted Caroline after a few weeks into the new semester.
"You guys want to go to the law school to get lunch? Like we used to." Alex pipped in.
"I can't. I have to get lunch with my sisters. We're getting ready for big little selection!" Michaela said.
"I'll go with you," Chase answered Alex. "You in?" He turned to June with a genuine smile.
"I can't. I have work. I'll catch up with you guys later." June smiled softly.
"Take care of yourself." Chase punched her in the shoulder.
She waved goodbye to the group as they left the lecture hall.
June watched them leave the ivory tower doors and down the steps. She watched their heads disappear across campus.
In college, it felt like everyone was part of every club. Volunteering for every event and going to all the different fairs and sports games. It was easy to feel like you were slacking for not getting involved.
The hall cleared, and the grey halls became quiet. June sat down on the bench in the hallway, trying to breathe. June sometimes felt heavy from the pressure and expectations.
June flipped through her exam. She saw how many stupid mini mistakes she made—missing a bond here. Naming reaction oxidation instead of redox. Forgetting to add an ethyl group to the end of a chemical structure.
It was annoying when June would second guess herself. She knew she understood the concepts. She usually got a perfect score on the labs and reports. But labs were worth less than the exams. It didn't matter if she knew what she was doing when she applied the knowledge. She didn't memorize the right information for them. June could see that there were places in the exam where she had had the correct answer. Then she went back and changed it, getting them wrong.
An 88 wasn't bad. Chemistry was a weed out class. It was designed to discourage students early on. To test a student's commitment and emotional durability. Most students didn't need to talk to their advisors. The message was clear. If it were too hard wouldn't get easier. It is best to pick an easier major.
June had a few minutes to relax before going to work in the lab upstairs. Her phone ringed. And the words Mom appeared on the screen. June debated answering it, and then before the last ring before voicemail, she did.
"Hi, Mom." She replied, trying to sound cheery.
"June! Thank god. You never call me back. Did you get my last calls?" Mrs. Yang spoke a little too loudly on the other end.
"I saw them, but I didn't have time. I had three tests this week and work." June said, rubbing her temples. Most days, she entered the Reiss Science Building at 8 am and didn't leave until 2 pm or 10 pm if she had night lab.
"Oh, okay. Look, I got a bill from the school. You were charged a fee of 3,000 dollars. Why? What did you do?" Mrs. Yang asked.
"Mom, I told you over Christmas break. I'm overloading. Again. If I get ahead in credits, then I can get ahead. I'll be the first in my grade to choose my schedule. I can get into the good classes that upperclassman usually gets first pick. It's cheaper because they charge us now per semester, not per credit. I needed to enroll also in summer classes this week, so they charged us for it now."
"You didn't tell me. So then why do they charge us? Can we add it to the payment plan, or do they need it now." Mrs. Yang said.
"Yes, I did. You weren't listening. We pay $42,000 a year. If I take 21 credits per semester instead of 16 (what they recommend), then that's 42 a year instead of 32. That's $1,000 per credit instead of $1,320. If I take online summer classes, 3 of them, it's still cheaper than taking them here. We don't have to pay for room and board. I can still work my summer job and take classes. I'm taking the stupid pre-requisites I have to take to graduate. Like Catholic architecture, gender studies, and African American studies." June said. She had spent days reading over the student manual, trying to figure out how to save money. Classes that filled multiple requirements.
"Why are we paying for those classes? They have nothing to do with science." Mrs. Yang asked.
"I don't know it's a requirement since I'm a Liberal Arts student. But Mom, if I do this now, then maybe I can graduate early or double major in Biomedical engineering." June reviled a little of her three-year plan.
"Fine. But I can't pay for this now. We don't have it." Mrs. Yang said.
"Okay, mom. I'll pay for it. I have some money from work. Which I have to go, it starts in 5 minutes." June said goodbye and hung up.
Conversations with her Mom exhausted June. Her mother never trusted her, and it took too much time to explain to her what was going on in her head.
June walked upstairs to the cell biology lab that she worked in. She placed the lab goggles over her glasses and pulled her black hair back into a tight ponytail. She put on an old oversized white coat and purple latex gloves. She sprayed down the surface with a 70% ethanol solution.
She looked at the little cancer cells under the microscope, alive and mutating. June carefully moved them back into the sterilized hood. June split the cells so they could grow in a new dish and take samples to run.
She was working through the steps out of her memory now. It was a rhythmic pattern that calmed her down. June liked hiding out in the lab. Here things were in her control. There was no roommate drama, no money problems, nobody she had to pretend she liked. June put in her headphones, letting the noise fill her head.