Last night we were given not one, not two, but three tests in my practical biology class. I hope I did okay. It’s strange, but because there is definitely a right answer and a wrong answer and it really is possible to get 100 per cent, I’m getting much more stressed about my homework/tests than I ever did in English or History classes. I wrote up my answers for chemistry and maths – in fact I typed them up – and then I agonised about handing them in last night or whether to spend another day checking the answers.
It’s interesting that my feelings about chemistry and biology haven’t changed a jot since 'A' Level. I love, love, love chemistry, but often it could be written in ancient Greek for all that I can understand it. When the lecturer is talking I get so enthused by all the information and I’m such an eager beaver and I really think that I’m absorbing every tiny scrap of information and then the class gets asked a question and I realise that actually I haven’t assimilated any of this and will have to do some major reading when I get home. I get home; I open my books and – like the character out of the Fast Show – say, “In’t chemistry brilliant! It tells you about atoms and bonds and molecules and EVERYTHING. Chemistry is brrriiiillliiiiiaaaannnnt!” Then, after I’ve been reading for half an hour or so, I realise that I have absolutely no idea what any of it means. In contrast, I often find biology a bit dull, but it’s similar enough to arts subjects to stick much better in my poor brain.
Oh! This morning I had a 1:1 session with Frankie. He gave me a boxer’s workout! Complete with skipping; doing strange hop, skip and jump combos; weights; spinning and sparring! I nearly died – it was fabulous!