Microbiology is hard. It’s fascinating, but so ridiculously complicated. However, I didn’t expect it to be any less difficult, considering that Dr. Francis Collins literally calls DNA and RNA the “language of God.” 

Unfortunately, due to the difficulty of biology, my imposter syndrome’s been biting my ass, hard! Last week, when I turned in my microbiology exam, I walked out already certain that I’d failed. After all, most of it was fill-in-the-blank. Biology’s hard enough when it’s mostly multiple choice. Fill-in-the-blank just felt impossible! 

As a result, I spent much of last week moping on my apparent failure, questioning my ability to do well as a biologist, or as a scientist, period! I literally thought about dropping out of university to become a Youtuber or some shit, because in my mind, I was far more likely to be successful on Youtube than I was as a university student. After all, I know I can write, but I still don’t know if I can be a scientist, let alone a good scientist. 

Ok, when I say “I know I can write but I don’t know if I can be a scientist…” I mean that, on an emotional level, I know that I can write. On a logical level, I know I can write, too. But the emotional level-  when I know in my heart that I can do something- is much more impactful than when I know something logically. And emotionally-speaking, I don’t know if I can be a good scientist or not. 

Being a natural pessimist, when I don’t know something, my instinct is to imagine the worst-case scenario, and act as though that worst-case scenario is true. It’s terrible for my anxiety, but at least I feel that I can predict the future, which alleviates the uncertainty. 

Case in point: today, I sauntered into my microbiology class fully expecting to get my exam with a big, fat “F” stamped on the front of it. Instead, however, my professor first gave us the day’s lecture before passing out the exams, because he “wanted to talk to us” about it, and didn’t want his “little talk” to distract us. 

As interesting as the lecture was, I definitely struggled to pay attention to it because I was so damn worried about my exam score. I mean… the suspense was killing me. It felt like I’d just received a “call me” text from my mom with no context, whatsoever, but couldn’t get a hold of her right away. But finally, after a long lecture about micro-RNAs and gene regulation, my professor finished the exam with a sigh. 

“So…” he began like a disappointed father would, “I’m not happy with how most of you did on the exam. In fact, I take it quite personally, because it means that I didn’t do a good job teaching you guys this first round… but do not despair. I’ll give you an extra day to write a little reflection and correct the answers you got wrong on the test. Then, I will give you enough points so that you pass, or add onto the points you have already earned.”

After that little speech, he began to call people up to the front of the lecture hall, one by one, to collect their exams along with a reflection worksheet. It felt like forever for him to call me up. But once he did, he gave me my exam, and told me not to look at it until I got back to my seat.

Once at my seat, I flipped the exam over, and looked for the big, fat “F” stamped to the front page. Except, instead of a big, fat “F”, there was a 72% scribbled on my exam. 

To my absolute shock, I’d passed!

Now, am I still gonna go through my exam and correct what I’d gotten wrong? Yes. However, after skimming my exam, I’ve realized that most of my “wrong” answers were in the right ballpark, they just weren’t specific enough. And the prof made sure to tell me so (there were so many comments like “so close…” next to my “wrong” answers). 

And again, I barely studied for this exam, if I studied at all. Not because I’m not enjoying the class (I am), but because I’m not as worried about microbiology as I am about my other classes, such as Chemistry. 

However, even in Chemistry, I’m beginning to realize that it’s not the “hard” questions that get me. I just have a difficult time keeping track of numbers  and units. Why? Because after awhile, everything starts to look the same, and my mind starts crossing wires. Even so, I still get within the ballpark of the right answer, just by rubbing my last two brain cells together a little longer to logically deduce the right answer from the question (when the test is multiple choice, which it will be in Chemistry). 

So, what does this tell me?

Logically, I know that this means that I am a decent university student. I am capable of being a good scientist. I am capable of understanding hard things, even with minimum effort. Why, then, do I find myself doubting myself all the damn time?

Long story short, I have anxiety about my ability to do well in the STEM subjects. Why? Because of how much I struggled with them in K-12. 

I don’t doubt my skills as a writer, because writing doesn’t give me anxiety. In fact, I originally got into writing as a way to alleviate my anxiety. As a result, even big, technical writing projects, such as lab reports and research reviews, don’t stress me out very much. I’m confident in my skills as a writer, and I know when I’m half-assing or even quarter-assing my writing. 

In other words, if I turn in a half-assed writing project and get a 70%, I’m never surprised or upset or offended, because I already know what I did wrong. For such projects, I just don’t really try my best all the time, because I don’t want to deplete my energy too much as I need it for harder subjects… such as Chemistry. 

Speaking of Chemistry, and other such subjects… why do I doubt my ability to do well in the sciences, even though I’m apparently so damn good at it that I can pass a fill-in-the-blank exam about stuff we didn’t discover until the 1980s and 1990s- without even studying for it???

This is a question that has been haunting me ever since I began college. One would think that as I progressed in my studies without failing a single class, I’d grow increasingly confident in my academic skills. Unfortunately, for reasons related to my anxiety, that’s not how that works. 

When it comes to my “imposter syndrome”, which is my inner belief that no matter what, I’ll never be good enough, and it’s just a matter of time before my “scientist facade” is revealed for all to see. Why might I carry that insecurity? 

Well… this semester, since I’m tackling Chemistry and Biology, I’m constantly reminding myself of the fact that, for 10th grade, I attended a small, conservative, private Christian school where I was taught Chemistry from a young-earth-creationist perspective. Never-mind the fact that I was sick as a dog throughout K-12, so learning shit wasn’t exactly on my list of priorities. Never-mind the fact that I attended normal, secular schools for 11 of the 12 grades. Never-mind the fact that I’ve always been interested in science, which is why I grew up watching Mythbusters, Storm Chasers, and Planet Earth instead of sports and cartoons. 

According to my anxiety, because I attended a private, young-earth-creationist school for 10th grade, where I was taught a very flawed, incomplete version of Chemistry, I must be forever doomed to never understand Chemistry. Or Biology. Or Astronomy. Or science in general. 

Logically, I know my anxiety is wrong. I know that I can- and do- understand very complex science. I know that I can- and will- understand Chemistry as it should’ve been taught to me all those years ago. I know that there are many, many more Christians who accept and understand modern science, than there are young-earth-creationist Christians. Therefore, neither my career as a scientist or my Christian identity are jeopardized by my past or future. 

Too bad I only get that logically, but not yet emotionally. Keyword: yet.