I’ll be the first to say it: I’m a major dork. I spend my free time playing Team Fortress 2 and Counter-Strike. I have MC Hawking on my iTunes. I’ve even been known to do physics problems for fun on long train rides. My friends hang their heads in shame, my parents wonder where they went wrong, and even my grandmother asked me why I was reading instead of partying (on a Wednesday afternoon). Given this background, it’s not too surprising that I’ve truly enjoyed most of my classes here at Wesleyan. I readily admit to actually enjoying genetics, microbiology, and organic chemistry (and that wasn’t just because I had a cute lab TA). So, why at 2:30 in the morning on Sunday night am I writing a Wespeak when I have an exam tomorrow? Why does the mere mention of “pentose phosphate pathway” make me cringe? Why do I detest biochemistry with the fiery passion of 10,000 suns?

Well, I think I’ve figured it out. It’s not that the mechanisms of glycolysis are inherently less interesting than those of Claisen condensations or that the annoying beeping sound outside HA84 on a daily basis has driven me crazy. Rather, I hate the class because I’m against being doomed to failure. The average of the last exam was a 53, which was identical to last year’s average score, and the year before. Now, we all know that in the end this will be curved to a B, but that really isn’t the point. I’ve taken a lot of exams in my 3.25 years here, and in my opinion the purpose of the exam is to quantify and solidify one’s knowledge. We take a test to prove that we haven’t come drunk to every class (or that if we have, we’re really attentive drunks) and to apply what we know. But when the average of a group of incredibly driven, intelligent students is consistently an F, that’s hardly what’s being tested at all. So what are we gaining?

If you ask me, we gain nothing more than inter-student competition. One of my favorite things about Wesleyan is the lack of this bloodthirsty, cut-throat attitude. I have heard horror stories from teachers about actually having to guard their experiments in the lab because other students would sabotage them. On a lesser scale, many of my friends at top-tier institutions refuse to share notes with classmates because “there’s no reason for them to get a better grade when I did the work.” That’s just freakin’ ridiculous. We’re not here to prove that we’re better than each other! We’re here to improve ourselves and increase our knowledge. Collaboration is the key to success, and your only competition should be with yourself (that came out much preachier than I wanted it to). But really, when a 40 gets you a C, and a 50 gets your neighbor a B, how can you not feel competitive? There’s no need to outrun the hungry grizzly bear; just outrun your friends! It’s really disappointing to me that our goal isn’t success, because success is not an option. Instead, our goal is to simply suck less than everyone else.

So what do we gain from the curve of intentionally low-scoring tests? For me, nothing more than a distaste for a subject that could potentially be really interesting (I mean, seriously, the Sorcerer’s Stone could only be produced by a study of metabolism!). So let’s go back to the days when I could work towards a test that my mom would put on the fridge, and away from this lesser-of-two-F’s philosophy. I like to like school, damn it!