Physics

“I programmed all the constants in my calculator,” Su-Min said, “I have K, I have the mass of a proton, but I already had the charge of an electron in for E, so now I have F for little-E.”

I resisted the urge to correct her: That “little-E” was in fact pronounced “epsilon.” At any rate, I didn’t see the point of programming my calculator to remember that number when “eight-point-eight-five-EE-negative-twelve” was already branded into my head.

Never mind. I replied, “Let’s take a look at the practice test,” clacking away on my sticker-covered Macbook, deliberately not looking at her as I downloaded the PDF from the course website.

“I had so much trouble printing that out,” she said, “Maybe it’s because my computer hates me. For some reason I had to print it every page out one by one.” She rolled her eyes at the injustice.

“Why?” I asked as I pulled up the PDF, “I don’t see anything weird with the file.”

She shrugged. I chalked it up to evil spirits. I couldn’t think of anything better.

In class today, Joey had been panicking.

“I’m so screwed for this test. I don’t know how I’m going to pass.” I didn’t hear fear in his voice so much as resignation.

I gestured to the back of the slowly-filling lecture hall and said, “Remember that these folks behind us probably aren’t studying. I know you work hard. Trust in the curve.”

Joey shook his head. “I don’t trust in the curve, because I’m always at the bottom of the curve.”

The first question on the practice test were a simple conceptual problem.

“Well, this isn’t too bad,” I said, half to myself.

“Don’t get too confident,” Su-Min said, “That’s what everyone said in Physics 1, until we all failed the test.”

“Really? How did you do?”

Su-Min rattled off her grades, sounding as if she had told countless others the same story. “First test, C; didn’t study for it. Second test, D; final, C-minus; I really studied for those. And my final grade was a C-plus, and that was purely through labs and homework.”

“They didn’t curve the test?”

“No! They don’t curve anything in Physics. Not even the final grade! I guess some people would consider the professors making an 85 an A as a curve, but they’re not going to give everyone fifteen points just because everyone failed. I swear, everyone I talked to failed those tests. I think the average was a 65. You think the practice tests are easy, but then you take the actual test and it’s so much harder — ”

I cut her off: “Do you think it was just stress?”

Su-Min said, “No, I’m not the person who gets stressed during tests, it’s just that the actual tests are so much harder.” She sighed and placed her hand on her forehead for structural support. “During the second test, my physics knowledge deserted me. I just totally blanked out — ”

I repeated myself. “Are you sure that wasn’t just stress?” I didn’t think she noticed how stressed she sounded at that very moment.

“No!” Su-Min burst out. Then she paused, dropped her hand back to the table, looked at me, and tilted her head, suspiscious knowing casting its shadow on her face. “Wait, did you even take Physics 1?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Oh,” Su-Min said, acid bubbling in her voice, “you’re one of those AP kids.”

Two weeks back, just as I had taken my seat in class, I saw Su-Min walk into the lecture hall, looking barely conscious, slumping into her usual seat to my left.

“How’s it going?” I said.

“Freaking out about the Calc test,” she mumbled, “When’s your test section?”

“I’m not taking Calc.”

She sat up and looked me in the eye. “Really? What class are you in?”

“Diff EQs,” I said. Differential Equations — I was maybe two math classes ahead of her.

“You’re…a genius,” she said in a cadence that could just as easily accommodate “moron” or “asshole.” “Never mind,” she added, cutting short a barrage of questions that I was sure she was about to ask me.

The second problem on the practice test was even easier than the first one.

“It’s E,” I said.

“How do you know?” Su-Min shot back.

I looked at her from atop my glasses. “It’s a basic concept,” I said, “The field decays at R-squared, so you just move by 4.”

“Wait, is this Chapter 25 or 26?” she asked.

“Who cares? It’s a simple problem,” I said.

Su-Min took another look. “Oh, it’s Chapter 25. Let me calculate the field at P first,” she said as she pulled out her notebook.

I turned to face her. “You don’t need to calculate anything for this problem. You’re overthinking this.”

“Listen,” Su-Min said with dark serration, “some people like using equations for their problems.”

“They’re not necessary,” I insisted.

“Never mind,” she said, glaring at me. She looked back at her open textbook, put in earbuds, and opened up a YouTube video:

“SUPER FOCUS RELAXING 10-HOUR WHITE NOISE MIX”

I decided to work on a U.S. History essay instead.

Three months ago, I was surfing Facebook in my dorm lounge, having given up on doing my math homework that afternoon, when I saw Anh Thao shuffle through the door, shoulders sagging, and laboriously set up her laptop and papers in front of the whiteboard on the back wall.

“You look absolutely exhausted,” I said to her. Despite my total inability to recognize visual cues, I could still notice the dishevelled hair and baggy sweatpants that signaled the advent of finals season.

“Yeah, I was up till three last night studying,” she said, “It was kinda funny…around one, my roommate asked me if I was staying up all night. And I was like, ‘Did the Wheat Thins tip you off?’” She giggled at her own wit. I didn’t know a giggle could sound so beaten down.

Sensing my confusion, she continued. “Yeah, I eat, like, crackers, or Wheat Thins, ’cause they help me stay awake and stuff. I can’t do Monster, that stuff’s gross.”

“Isn’t that counterproductive?” I asked her.

“What’s counterproductive?” It was her turn to be confused.

“Like, shouldn’t you be getting sleep instead?”

“And fail all my classes?” Anh Thao seemed offended by the suggestion.

I realized that it was 3:00 PM and I had forgotten to eat lunch. I turned to Su-Min, who had forgotten I was still here.

I spent a few seconds looking at the back of her head, meaning to say something, when she looked up from her notes, apparently sensing my awkward gaze.

We stared at each other for a few seconds. I could see Su-Min’s eyes slowly recalibrate to reality. She took out her earbuds.

“Oh. Hi. How’re you doing?” she said, as if we hadn’t seen each other for a while— which wasn’t exactly false.

“I’m doing pretty great, actually, I said, “I’m going to get some food now…somehow, I forgot to eat lunch.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, “That might be a good idea. Have fun.” She smiled.

I left the room, having gained nothing but confusion and panic about what looked like an easy test for an introductory class.

As I walked to the dining hall, I put in my headphones and thought:

This is why I don’t study with people.