Carly Menker
Editor in Chief '17
“Carly???” At the sound of my name in the form of a question filled with surprise, I know I can only be in one place. Here, me being acknowledged in this form of uncertainty both validates my insecurity about my response to come and that the person the voice is coming from is definitely talking to me. Here I am, always on my toes, always unsure of my answers. In AP Chemistry, I’m only called upon in a tone as if the voice was shocked that I’m speaking. But with uncertainty comes pleasant surprises.
Within the forty-one minutes of period one, each day is an eternal battle of seniors versus sophomores. Who is smarter? Who works harder? Who answers the most questions correctly? Segregated by sophomores on the left, seniors on the right, aspects of chemistry are taught while juxtaposed with learning about the personal lives of peers. Within the forty-one minutes, one must recognize how things make them feel, and blow away all of their problems, stresses, and fears into an intangible balloon.
Students who understand chemistry with ease have points detracted from their tests (in theory) each time they speak unless called upon in order to give others a chance to rise to the occasion and prove themselves. But with the answer from the struggling students commonly comes applause, the ultimate form of disrespect. Any Appellite knows the worst thing one can do is clap for a correct answer. It’s a slap in the face and sends the message of incapability. “What, you didn’t think they could do it?”
Enter the class as an outsider, and you’ll be met with intimidation. The key to our chemical success is our striking silence and stares. Each and every desk is occupied by a brilliant individual, but sometimes, it takes people a little extra time to realize that. The amount of hands that go up when asked if anyone knows with certainty what they’re doing is minimal, but when asked if confused, many are unashamed to make it known. It’s better to be laughed at for not knowing than to be silent and remained confused. Ask as many questions as you can, because the worst thing to happen is your teacher ignoring you because you’ve reached the theoretical limit.
Thousands of almonds perish at the expense of the meter stick, and whether or not we’re good with significant figures is constantly unknown. The last digit is always most uncertain, like the rest of us with our multiple choice tests without the gift of a calculator. Bargaining points are quite common, because do we ever know who we really agree with? Is it the senior or the sophomore? Or by blurting out the answer are we really hurting how they feel? Part of being an Appellite is recognizing the importance of having faith in your peers; willingly bringing them up when they’re feeling pathetic.
Questions are only answered from certain people, and of course, no one can forget the twelve question limit. Solutions are dil-solved, exothermic reactions release hee-it, and rel-duced is when electrons are gained. No one knows if the gas works in the room or not. Chemicals are removed from the skin by using sand paper because, in the precipitate lab that wasn’t an experiment, reagents were mixed, and reagents were spilled. Vitamin C is what keeps us going healthy, along with green tea that is based off a special plant enhanced with antioxidants.
Of course, doing practice problems wouldn’t be the same without the random humming of songs from the 1500s, the whistles, or the rhythmic lulls of banging a ruler on the counter. Neither would the screensavers of overpriced sushi to make us all hungry first period when we’re trying to remember to unlock the door or calibrate the smart board.
Anxiety in some twisted way is apparently good for us, and testing frequently seems to have become the normal. The quirks of Appell are what make this AP Chemistry class the way it is. It’s the class most look forward to but also the one they dread because let’s face it, chemistry is hard. I mean, what’s a clean bottle in comparison to a volumetric flask? Ionic salts aren’t molecules? Today is tomorrow’s yesterday?
It’s worth it though and wouldn’t trade it for anything else, despite all the tears and failing grades. But that’s what pushes you to work harder, to aspire to succeed. If you have the chance, take Appell’s AP Chemistry class. You won’t regret it, even if you don’t love your test grades. Work hard because deep down, your teacher truly cares, even if he acts like a complete Bucket-head in the process.
Editor in Chief '17
“Carly???” At the sound of my name in the form of a question filled with surprise, I know I can only be in one place. Here, me being acknowledged in this form of uncertainty both validates my insecurity about my response to come and that the person the voice is coming from is definitely talking to me. Here I am, always on my toes, always unsure of my answers. In AP Chemistry, I’m only called upon in a tone as if the voice was shocked that I’m speaking. But with uncertainty comes pleasant surprises.
Within the forty-one minutes of period one, each day is an eternal battle of seniors versus sophomores. Who is smarter? Who works harder? Who answers the most questions correctly? Segregated by sophomores on the left, seniors on the right, aspects of chemistry are taught while juxtaposed with learning about the personal lives of peers. Within the forty-one minutes, one must recognize how things make them feel, and blow away all of their problems, stresses, and fears into an intangible balloon.
Students who understand chemistry with ease have points detracted from their tests (in theory) each time they speak unless called upon in order to give others a chance to rise to the occasion and prove themselves. But with the answer from the struggling students commonly comes applause, the ultimate form of disrespect. Any Appellite knows the worst thing one can do is clap for a correct answer. It’s a slap in the face and sends the message of incapability. “What, you didn’t think they could do it?”
Enter the class as an outsider, and you’ll be met with intimidation. The key to our chemical success is our striking silence and stares. Each and every desk is occupied by a brilliant individual, but sometimes, it takes people a little extra time to realize that. The amount of hands that go up when asked if anyone knows with certainty what they’re doing is minimal, but when asked if confused, many are unashamed to make it known. It’s better to be laughed at for not knowing than to be silent and remained confused. Ask as many questions as you can, because the worst thing to happen is your teacher ignoring you because you’ve reached the theoretical limit.
Thousands of almonds perish at the expense of the meter stick, and whether or not we’re good with significant figures is constantly unknown. The last digit is always most uncertain, like the rest of us with our multiple choice tests without the gift of a calculator. Bargaining points are quite common, because do we ever know who we really agree with? Is it the senior or the sophomore? Or by blurting out the answer are we really hurting how they feel? Part of being an Appellite is recognizing the importance of having faith in your peers; willingly bringing them up when they’re feeling pathetic.
Questions are only answered from certain people, and of course, no one can forget the twelve question limit. Solutions are dil-solved, exothermic reactions release hee-it, and rel-duced is when electrons are gained. No one knows if the gas works in the room or not. Chemicals are removed from the skin by using sand paper because, in the precipitate lab that wasn’t an experiment, reagents were mixed, and reagents were spilled. Vitamin C is what keeps us going healthy, along with green tea that is based off a special plant enhanced with antioxidants.
Of course, doing practice problems wouldn’t be the same without the random humming of songs from the 1500s, the whistles, or the rhythmic lulls of banging a ruler on the counter. Neither would the screensavers of overpriced sushi to make us all hungry first period when we’re trying to remember to unlock the door or calibrate the smart board.
Anxiety in some twisted way is apparently good for us, and testing frequently seems to have become the normal. The quirks of Appell are what make this AP Chemistry class the way it is. It’s the class most look forward to but also the one they dread because let’s face it, chemistry is hard. I mean, what’s a clean bottle in comparison to a volumetric flask? Ionic salts aren’t molecules? Today is tomorrow’s yesterday?
It’s worth it though and wouldn’t trade it for anything else, despite all the tears and failing grades. But that’s what pushes you to work harder, to aspire to succeed. If you have the chance, take Appell’s AP Chemistry class. You won’t regret it, even if you don’t love your test grades. Work hard because deep down, your teacher truly cares, even if he acts like a complete Bucket-head in the process.