In “Frosh Footprints,” Jenny Wang explores Stanford during her first quarter on the Farm, musing on her discoveries and realizations about campus culture.
It was a casual Sunday morning. After savoring a delicious plate of Casper brunch, I called up a high school friend while basking in the warmth of the sun. As trees swayed under the cool breeze, we caught up on the week’s drama and emotional rollercoasters.
Suddenly, there was the sound of an email notification.
I glanced down at my phone screen and saw an email titled “Regarding your Exam 1: Linear Algebra, Multivariable Calculus, and Modern Applications.”
My heart dropped. I knew where this was going. The midterm that consumed my thoughts entirely the past week, made me study so diligently that office hours practically turned into a temporary home, was finally graded.
I hesitated, debating whether I should click into Gradescope. Post-midterm on Thursday, I felt that the questions were challenging, but I had at least attempted to answer all of them and wrote down some formulas for the ones I was unsure about. Partial credit counts, right?
I had mentally braced myself for an 80%, the minimum grade I could reasonably accept. Yet, when the number popped up, it was still lower than my worst estimate. Throughout high school, I’ve never scored below a median. And three weeks into fall quarter, I had already lost that record.
This is not a story about my score on the first midterm — it is about the subsequent reflection that ensued. Many of us are accustomed to high scores, a full load of courses and a gazillion other commitments — all at the same time.
Yet, college is different. With larger classes, denser materials and quicker pacing, the environment introduces many more unpredictable variables that could influence the outcome.
On my end, I came to terms with the reality that despite my best efforts, grades were often not necessarily within my control.
After a long call with my sister, some sighs and a period of venting to my roommates and friends, I felt better. Life moved on. My club interview in three hours needed prepping, the R exploratory data analysis wasn’t going to write itself and I began reading for the pre-class questionnaire due before the next math lecture.
At night, I found myself eating Panda’s Firecracker Chicken Breast plate and watching “Nobody Wants This” on Netflix, as the sunset over Hoover Tower cast a warm glow on my dorm room balcony. As I settled in, I remembered the sense of wonder I felt when visiting Stanford for the first time, thinking: How happy would I be if I could study here?
Despite the sting of a disappointing midterm score, it brought me back to my original aspirations — to try new things, embrace both success and failure and connect with people who inspire me along the way.
The journey is what matters most. And for now, it’s time to dive into the next problem set, with that perspective in mind.