Dr. Lindsay plunked me down in the Chemistry Lounge in Peterson hall to take the exam. I was pretty confident that I could nail this exam; I was a junior and at the top of my game, so to speak. I was full of myself. I felt I could re-invent or re-derive whatever I couldn’t remember during the exam, but I still crammed up until the last minute and took my textbook and reference book along in case Lindsay had written an open-text exam.
So Lindsay plunked me down in this room all by my lonesome and told me I had two hours to complete the exam. It was a closed-book exam, so I tucked my notebook and books under my chair and set to work.
The first thing I do when taking a math test is to jot down all of the major equations I expect to use; I do a brain dump. This serves as my own personal reference sheet as I motor through the test. It is a comfort and confidence-builder knowing that those equations are on the paper should I have a brain freeze or moments of anxiety during the exam. If I remember that there is one I don’t remember (confused?) I try to relax and believe that it will come to me at some point later in the exam. It’s like trying to remember the name of your sixth grade PE teacher. If you try to remember, you can’t, but if you don’t try, it will often pop unexpectedly into your head later on.
To digress further, which is standard form for this blog, the second thing I do on math exams is to read all the questions. Problems on math tests aren’t lengthy. Solving the problem may be lengthy, as in a page or more of work, but stating the problem is usually brief. So I read the questions and mark all the ones I know I can do easily with the letter A, and put the letter B next to the problems that are not immediately obvious but I expect I can solve with some effort. I leave the hardest problems unmarked.
I like doing the A’s first to build confidence, score some points early, and ensure a passing grade. In the process of doing the A’s I find I remember stuff along the way that helps me knock out the B’s and build even more confidence. Along the way I re-remember equations and add them to my reference sheet. Finally I attempt the tough problems and try not to get confused by any difficulties I encounter.
So anyway, back to the story. I was sitting there in the Chemistry Lounge rocking through this Prob & Stat exam and I came across a problem that required some arcane equation from (analytic?) geometry, like the surface area of a sphere. (A = 4 x pi x r2) This had nothing to do with Prob & Stat, but it was necessary to solve the problem. I knew this equation then, and I know this equation even now, 37 years later, but at that brief, dark moment during the final exam, I forgot the equation for the surface area of a sphere. I had a brain freeze.
If this had been the normal exam setting I would have raised my hand to speak to Lindsay. I would have pointed out that solving the problem required knowing the surface area of the sphere. I would have asked him if he really meant to test us on our knowledge of geometry equations during a Probability and Statistics exam. I would have told him that I generally know this equation, but couldn’t pull quite pull it out of my brain at that particular moment. I would have asked that he plunk this equation on the board so that all the class would have the benefit of not being required to know it.
But I was sitting in the Chemistry Lounge all by my lonesome. I knew the equation existed in one of the books I’d brought with me. I knew the equation existed in hundreds of the chemistry books that surrounded me. I was sure that Lindsay did not intend for this obscure equation to be an obstacle to the problem, so I was tempted to look it up; sorely tempted. I really wanted to ace this exam and ace this course. I knew the material inside and out. I was a decent math student and wanted to hold my own with the best and brightest in the school, and we all knew who they were. (Hobby, Sheryl, Ann, and Gary, among others) I wanted to do really well so the top of the geek pecking order wouldn’t look down on me with pity as a really dim bulb.
Lindsay hadn’t checked on me in over an hour. What was the probability that he would show up during the one minute it would take me to look up this equation. But then I thought if Lindsay came in at that precise time he might think I was cheating. He might think I was cheating liberally if not singularly. How would he know that I was only looking up the one equation; he would only have my word. What if he disagreed with my personal assessment that this equation wasn’t relevant to the exam or the course?
Whether or not this was a significant infraction or not would be up to Lindsay’s judgment. Lindsay might decide to fail my exam, which would likely cause me to fail the course, and I would not graduate on time, that is if I was not expelled outright. Word would get around about the scandal and I would be the subject of scorn. My professors, my classmates, and my family would reassess my character and find it wanting. Jean would not want to associate with such a disreputable fellow.
I considered Professor Lindsay a friend, a friend who trusted me to take this exam on my own, to do the right thing while nobody was looking. I ultimately decided that one question on one exam wasn’t worth ruining everything I had done so far in my life, and much of the future. Getting a B on the exam and in the course wouldn’t be the end of the world, so I decided to noodle along on the other problems in hopes that my elusive memory would return, but I remained emotionally shaken that I had even considered jeopardizing everything.
Lindsay showed up soon thereafter to check on me, which, given the evil thoughts I’d just been considering, was an emotional jolt. I really would have been caught. I didn’t ask Lindsay about the geometry equation because I felt guilty about thinking about cheating, and decided that handicapping myself was the penalty I deserved.
I continued to work on the other problems and eventually realized that the derivative of the spherical volume equation would result in the surface area equation I needed. I knew the volume of a sphere was 4/3 x pi x r3, so the derivative was, and still is, 4 x pi x r2.
Problem solved.
Life saved.
Do the right thing, even when nobody’s looking.
(More sanctimonious self-righteousness)
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