By Todd Brown / Contributing Writer

I was going to write the final column for the year with regard to endings. My goal was to wax philosophically about finals week and how all things come to end. I was going to tie it in with the fact that Jupiter’s Great Red Spot, a gigantic storm twice the diameter of the earth and having been observed since telescopes have had the capability to do so, seems to be shrinking and might disappear in our lifetime. It would have been a great piece; if not Pulitzer material then at least something that would have brought tears to eyes of those at my funeral (which hopefully is a long way off).

But that’s all the astronomy we need for now. As it is finals week, the last thing we need are any facts to compete with the cramp quarters of our craniums for the last volley of exams. Instead, as the last few moments of 2008-2009 sink below the horizon, always remember: clarity, completeness and the Tale of When Victor V (almost) got a C.

A long time ago, in a school one time zone away, I was a grad student in physics. As a graduate student in the sciences I was actually paid to go to school…in a small way. My tuition was free in exchange for my help in teaching some of the undergrad laboratories in introductory physics. They even paid me enough to rent a room in a graduate dorm as well as have money to occasionally eat off the Wendy’s Value Menu or maybe even visit the Olive Garden with a coupon (where I loaded up on soup, breadsticks and soda and then took the main entrée home to split into two separate meals). I was fortunate I had a chance to do this but it wasn’t something I’d endorse for a career.

I was a Teaching Assistant (we went by the ultra-cool name of “TA’s”) for 3.5 years before I began my exciting job as a graduate Research Assistant (which went by the ultra-cool name of “RA”). Near the end of my graduate teaching days, I was one of the dozen or so that taught the algebra-based first semester labs for pre-meds. It was all mechanics: vectors, velocities, forces, momentum and energy.

The lab counted for a one-credit grade. The lecture end of the course was graded separately and counted as three credits. But the lecture credits had to be easier to grade as all the students took the same exams. With some many different lab sections and so many TA’s the professor in charge of the undergraduate labs had a difficult task making sure fair grades were distributed among the students as each TA grading style varied.

The solution was a final exam. A 20 question, multiple-choice exam was given to all the students at the same time in a very large lecture hall. The questions had been chosen by the TA’s and were over the material that we should have covered in the weekly lab manual.

Even though we had chosen the questions, we did not get a copy of the exam. Instead, we showed up in the Physics main office about 30 minutes before the exam was to start. The Secretary Master in Arms (aka Peggy the Terminator) requested an official class roster with our students on it complete with University Seal. She then went through a security procedure that would make the military’s nuclear missile launching procedure look like a game of Candy Land to open the FECA (Final Exam Containment Area). After submitting to a retinal scan and DNA testing for clearance, we were each handed EXACTLY the number we needed.

As a group (and probably under surveillance) we would march to the lecture hall and distribute an exam and scan-tron sheet to the students. Afterwards, they would return the exam, their scan-tron and usually our calculators as you always count on a few forgetting to bring them. Within an hour of the exam’s ending, we had the scores and each TA was behind a computer churning out their final grades (because we had to get ready for our final exams!).

Now teaching pre-meds at my school was a lot like driving in the car with small kids who were always asking, “Are we there yet?” The difference is that their “there” meant “making an A.” For a one credit class, there seemed to be a lot of anxiety about its impact on their grade (and chance of getting into med school) so I usually posted weekly updates outside my office door on 9th floor physics (which strangely enough was only 6 floors above the ground as ground floor was the 3rd floor) by using codenames for the students (back then we could).

During one particular semester, I had a student named Victor V who was sailing though my class as he had a good high school physics course. He was #2 out of both my sections combined. I appreciated the fact that he helped his lab partner out who had never had physics before: Jason F. Victor was heading for a strong A while Jason was struggling to maintain a B.

Just before I went downstairs to go through the security clearance to get the final exam, I had office hours and Victor called me with some questions. In the background I could hear Jason shouting something and he had to shout loudly as they were studying with really loud music in the background (Think: Godzilla vs. Mothra happening next door but slightly louder). I hopefully answered their questions but as I hung up I was more worried I would suffer permanent hearing damage.

After the exam, I tallied the final scores and found that Victor did horribly on it. He wound up in the mid-C range. I figured that he understood that a more important class (counting for more credit) than my 1-credit course dictated a sacrifice and he punted on 3rd down on the lab exam. It was sad, but it happens and he at least had the cushion to take the hit. I made the final grade report and, as I had promised the anxious students, would post it by the end of the next day outside my office door.

The next day when I headed over to my office, I decided to treat myself to a soda in the cafeteria. The large hall was basically deserted but as I was leaving, across the cavernous room, I could hear my name being called out. I looked into the distance, across a sea of empty tables and there was a group of four; with Victor V waving for me to come over. I was a coward. I didn’t want to tell him what he had got. He had to know it wasn’t pretty. So, I tried to smile and waved back, acting as if I had thought he just wanted to say “hi!” and I tried to continue to make it to the exit door. But he, and Jason who was there with him, shouted louder. They wanted me to come over. I hadn’t lost my hearing after all.

So, I wandered over, clutching my folder with my grades in my hand and my Mt. Dew in the other. Victor and Jason wanted to know their grades but I tried to duck this issue and said that I was just on my way to post them. They could check them out in a few minutes (and I planned to get out of Dodge, fast). But they didn’t want to walk up there when I had them in my hand. There were two others in their party that I didn’t recognize so I tried to use this to my advantage saying I didn’t think they would want me to talk about grades in front of the others. I tried to start to walk away but they waived their rights. I counted to three and as there was no major earthquake or sudden alien invasion, I figured I was out of options.

I told Jason what he got: a solid C. Jason sighed and said that he figured as much. Boy, that was uncomfortable but now it was Victor’s turn. He was eyeing the floor and I was still hoping for a freak category F5 tornado to rip through the cafeteria to put me out of my misery as I pronounced sentence on Victor: a C as well. His friends offered their condolences, my Mt. Dew tasted bitter and I just wanted out of there. I said I was sorry that it didn’t work out and was turning around to flee when Victor shook his head and quietly said, “Yeah, that final was tough.” My turn was complete, I took my first step to leave that scene of woe behind me when he finished his sentence, “All that stuff about batteries and currents and magnets.” I froze and turned around.

Magnets and batteries? Not in first semester physics. What was he talking about? Even Jason, who only had about an 80% grasp of the material, looked at him strangely. As Victor recounted some of the questions it was obvious he had taken the final … unfortunately the 2nd semester final. Within minutes, my two freshly minted-former students were outside my office door as I tore through the pile of exams. I found Victor’s and, sure enough, he had taken the wrong exam. Peggy the Terminator had messed up (unfortunately for Jason, he had taken the correct exam). Each exam had a cover sheet that the students signed. With this, I didn’t have a chance to see the problems to notice an error.

Even though they only gave us an exact number of exams, another TA and I always had enough time to run to Kinko’s and make an extra exam copy. I guess we did this just to be wild TA’s and beat the Terminator but it was lucky that I had that unused copy. I asked Victor if he would like to take the exam the next day. Of course, he agreed.

The next day, he aced the exam and, with it, the class. I had since looked through all the other exams and found his was the only one that had been misplaced. I could only wonder why a person like Victor would have suffered for over one hour mulling over problems that did not look the least bit familiar. In hindsight, he might have actually done well, but as his exam had a different key, it wouldn’t have mattered. At the end, it was my addiction to Mt. Dew and his one last, barely audible comment that pulled him through.

Before you hand in that final exam, make sure all the I’s have been dotted, all the questions have been answered and, above all, look around at the people taking the exam to make sure that you are in the right classroom for the right final.

What else is out there: Summer. Enjoy the stars overhead and good luck in whatever future awaits you.