The College Class That Taught Me More About Myself Than the Subject
We’ve all been there—staring at a course catalog, scrolling through class descriptions, and feeling that mix of excitement and anxiety as we plan the next semester. Sometimes, we choose classes that align with our passions or career goals. Other times, we sign up for something on a whim, influenced by curiosity, peer pressure, or even a catchy course title. For me, that impulsive decision led to enrolling in a class I’d later describe as “the academic equivalent of running a marathon in flip-flops.”
Let me take you back to my sophomore year of college. I was a psychology major with a minor in creative writing, convinced I had my academic path perfectly mapped out. Then, one evening, a friend mentioned an elective called Introduction to Organic Chemistry. “It’s not as bad as people say,” she insisted. “Plus, it’ll look great on your transcript if you ever want to switch to pre-med!”
Switch to pre-med? I’d never considered it. But her words planted a seed. By the next morning, I’d talked myself into believing that adding a “hard science” class would make me a more well-rounded student. Never mind that I’d barely passed high school chemistry or that the sight of a periodic table made my eyes glaze over. This was about challenge, growth, and… okay, maybe a little about impressing my overly critical relatives at Thanksgiving dinner.
Week 1: The Honeymoon Phase
The first lecture felt like stepping into a foreign country. The professor, a brilliant but notoriously fast-talking chemist, began scribbling molecular structures on the board. Terms like stereoisomerism, nucleophilic substitution, and benzene rings flew around the room. I nodded along, pretending to understand, while secretly Googling “organic chemistry for dummies” under my desk.
My classmates seemed equally lost, which was comforting… until I realized most of them were biology or engineering majors. They had at least some foundation in the subject. Meanwhile, I was learning that “organic” in this context had nothing to do with kale smoothies or eco-friendly products.
The Slow Unraveling
By midterms, my confidence had dissolved faster than a sugar cube in hot water. Assignments involved memorizing hundreds of reaction mechanisms, and labs required precision I simply didn’t possess. (Pro tip: If you’re clumsy, don’t attempt to handle volatile chemicals in a dimly lit basement lab.)
What made it worse was the creeping sense of isolation. While my peers bonded over shared frustration, I felt like an imposter. When study groups formed, I’d slink away, too embarrassed to admit how far behind I was. The class wasn’t just academically challenging—it became a daily exercise in humility.
The Breaking Point
The lowest moment came during a lab experiment gone wrong. Tasked with synthesizing aspirin, I misread a step and created a smoky, foul-smelling mess that set off a fire alarm. As we evacuated the building, I locked eyes with my professor. His disappointed glare said it all: What are you even doing here?
That night, I called my mom in tears. “I’m wasting time and money on a class I hate,” I confessed. She paused before replying, “Why did you take it in the first place?” Her question hit harder than any failed exam.
The Real Lesson
I finished the semester with a C-, a grade that still stings my pride. But in hindsight, that class taught me three invaluable lessons:
1. Know Your ‘Why’
I’d enrolled for all the wrong reasons: external validation, vague notions of prestige, and fear of being seen as “unambitious.” I hadn’t stopped to ask, Does this align with my goals or interests? If your reason for taking a class is rooted in insecurity or peer influence, it’s a recipe for regret.
2. Challenge ≠ Suffering
There’s a difference between pushing yourself and setting yourself up for failure. A good challenge should stretch your abilities, not crush your spirit. Organic chemistry wasn’t just difficult—it was incompatible with my strengths and prior knowledge.
3. Quitting Isn’t Always Failure
I wish I’d dropped the class after the first month. But I’d bought into the myth that quitting equals weakness. Sometimes, walking away is the smartest (and bravest) choice. It frees up time and energy for things that truly matter to you.
The Silver Lining
Ironically, hating that class clarified what I did love. While others debated bond angles, I’d sneakily draft poems in the margins of my notebook. By the end of the semester, I’d written a chapbook about the chaos of lab experiments and the loneliness of feeling out of place. It later won a campus writing award—proof that even our worst academic choices can spark unexpected creativity.
Final Thoughts
If you’re currently stuck in a class you regret, know this: You’re not alone. Maybe it’s a required course you despise, or an elective that sounded better on paper. Whatever the case, use it as a mirror. What does this experience reveal about your priorities, boundaries, or passions?
And if you’re staring at a course catalog right now, torn between practicality and curiosity, remember: Education isn’t just about collecting credits. It’s about discovering who you are—and who you’re not. Sometimes, the classes we regret teach us more than the ones we ace.
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