Why I Got an “F” in Chemistry

The year was 1992, and I was as frightened as a turtle who can’t find his shell. After being summarily dismissed from Blue Mountain Academy at the beginning of my junior year, I was rudderless, finally coming in to port three weeks later at the third largest public school in Philadelphia. I was overwhelmed from the start. I mean, going from 200 kids total to 1000 in each grade level was severe culture shock, and it took me ages to get acclimated. Two things stayed the same, however. The first was that I was still getting all A’s through that first semester at public school, and the second was that I had an unrequited crush almost immediately. Her name was Kendra, and boy, was she out of my league.

I knew the first time I saw the back of her head that she was the one for me.

It was chemistry, second semester of junior year (my first junior year, anyway), and she sat right in front of me at one of the long tables. I knew the first time I saw the back of her head that she was the one for me. She had one of those old-school perms that you knew just had to have activator in it all the time. It glistened. And I was in lust. My eyes followed her every time she walked in the room. In fact, I would make sure I got there first, sprinting all the way from the other side of the massive building, and three floors down as well, barely beating her most days to Chem. All so I could see her when she came in, that casual smile on her face, that booty that wouldn’t quit. I’ll admit it, I was an adolescent boy. I saw it. I liked it.

If she was going to fail chemistry, then I would too. It was one of the dumbest decisions I ever made.

But she was dumb as a rock, and I say that in the nicest possible way. Not quite a compliment, but it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. I’m sure she had some street smarts, I’ll leave it at that. But she couldn’t keep the periodic table of the elements together, she failed all of our tests, and she almost set the lab on fire on more than one occasion. Needless to say, I was near her for all of those failures, telling her it was all okay, that anyone could make those mistakes. And indeed, I became that “anyway” I talked about after a while. If she was going to fail chemistry, then I would too. It was one of the dumbest decisions I ever made, as if me failing would make her see me in a different light (not true), or that me failing would assure we were in chem together again the next semester (which it didn’t), but at the time it made perfect sense to the 16-year old me.

After she nearly burnt down the lab, my grade had gone from an A to a C, and my teacher was tearing his hair out trying to figure out what was happening. Often he would be grading my paper in class, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose, he would stare daggers at me and shake his head slowly from side to side. I only saw part of that, though, because I was busy staring at the back of Kendra’s permed-out hair. There was no saving me. And before the end of the school year I knew I had to make my move. I was finally pulling a D in chem, so I thought I would have a shot. Again, I was wrong.

I will admit the “F” looked kind of like the block-style “A”‘s if you looked quickly, as she did…

She shot me down so quickly I don’t even remember asking her the question. But by then it was too late to right the ship, so I ended up failing the class. The funny thing was when my report card came home. My mother read through it quickly, gave me a pat on the back, said “good job,” and went on to other things. I will admit the “F” looked kind of like the block-style “A'”s if you looked quickly, as she did, but I knew it would have to come out eventually. So I told her to look again, more closely, and she just about fainted. I hadn’t brought home anything lower than a B+ (in gym — I was a nerd, remember?) my entire high school career to that point. Eventually the entire story came out, and by the end of the tongue lashing I got, it was understood that I never sacrifice myself for anyone else. I learned the lesson well.

And I got an “A” in chemistry that next semester. And I found out later from my friend Fran that Kendra had somehow passed the first time through. Go figure.

Sam