When I registered for my first semester of college classes, I was given only three choices to fulfill my science requirements: chemistry, microbiology, or anatomy and physiology (A&P). I immediately discarded the first choice since I did not plan to spend the first half of my freshman year bordering on insanity because of the three-hour lab I would have had to endure every week. Microbiology was simply not appealing enough. It seemed a bit too intimidating since I had not reviewed biology since my seventh-grade life science class due to my repeated relocations during high school, which resulted in me never taking a proper biology class. Hence, I considered A&P the “easy” route, considering that I already knew some of the content after taking the class in high school.

The first section of A&P was far from easy, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. I struggled to adapt to its pace but survived and lived to tell the tale. I credit part of this success to the fact that my degree and career goals did not depend on whether I passed the class, which significantly reduced the pressure I felt. Still, no class is safe from my often excessively high standards, so I forced myself to study like my life depended on it and scolded myself when I earned a ninety-two percent on my second exam.

Nevertheless, my efforts proved fruitful when I passed the class with what I considered a satisfactory grade and what my professor considered worthy of a career change. Unfortunately for her, my aspirations to pursue a career in medicine dissolved long before that time, so we were both left to accept that my photographic memory would not be used to memorize anatomical diagrams in order to reassemble crushed bones.

She did not let the opportunity to exploit my potential go to waste, however, and recommended I take a tutoring position at the school’s Academic Achievement Center (AAC). There was a monetary incentive, of course, but due to some annoying and strict situational factors, I could not hold the position as an employee. I knew the experience would be productive though, so I persuaded the head of the AAC to let me do it as volunteer work.

By the time the AAC contacted me, I was taking the second part of A&P, so I was also able to tutor for that course after the first exam. This made for an interesting experience since two out of the three people who frequented the tutoring center also happened to be my classmates. It was incredibly productive from a selfish perspective, as I was able to study most of the material I needed to review for our exams while I was “working.”

The most amusing part of this job was seeing students’ confusion when they stopped by the tutoring center (whether by appointment or by simply inquiring about the services) and they found out the seemingly contradictory relationship between the subject I tutored and my major. It never got old. They would ask things like, “Are you going into nursing or pre-med?” to which I would respond, “No, I’m in the English transfer program.” The dramatic change in their facial expression would always convey the million-dollar question: “Why the hell would you torture yourself with A&P, then?” “For fun,” I would often say.

In a way, it was true, but it was more complex than that. As I mentioned, I stuck to something familiar because I did not want to risk getting a bad grade (AKA, anything below a ninety-six percent) in my general requirements classes. Plus, microbiology and chemistry were both far from appealing, and there is nothing worse than studying topics that do not interest me enough to make my efforts worthwhile. I also chose to take A&P because it was a subject I liked in high school, and I wanted to discover what a genuinely comprehensive curriculum—not limited by constant faculty absences and inconsistency—had to offer.

It was beyond challenging, even more so considering the prolonged transition between high school and college pacing. It took me a while to discover study strategies that worked and did not make me want to slap myself. It was this demanding journey of trial and error that somehow resulted in a successful, more-than-passing-grade, which was what helped me understand the struggles of those who visited the tutoring center.

However, while it was my peers whom I helped, and we were united by our shared experiences as stressed-out students, I had an advantage over them: I had the time. Time to study, redo notes, rewatch recorded lectures, cry about not remembering the stable values of intrapleural and intrapulmonary pressures, etc. I did not know what study alternatives to offer to regular students since their personal lives, naturally, looked incredibly different from mine. I also could not provide a helpful answer every time they genuinely asked for my “secret,” which included a semi-working photographic memory and conditioned and rather harsh emotional motivation. Additionally, I was neither a mother-of-four nor employed, so my main distractions consisted of technologically inept parents who occasionally asked me to solve tedious, yet simple tasks for them.

I knew incessantly rewriting statements in order to memorize material would not be effective or convenient for anyone but me, so all I could do was offer to explain anything they did not understand. Our professor was wonderful, and she always tried to be helpful and adapt to our needs, but she has been teaching the subject for more than ten years, so it was more difficult for her to understand our positions. Being an A&P student at the time gave me essential insight into the specific topics my peers struggled to understand, and my insider approach was appreciated.

Fortunately, my explanations were productive, and my students passed the class (one of them with a triumphant eighty-percent)! These results were tremendously fulfilling and made me understand the joy of teaching. Not to mention, since the AAC had three tutors, total, I had the chance to serve as a substitute math tutor a few times, since Tom, the English tutor, did not dare instruct anyone in a subject he had not reviewed in more than five decades. Thus, I diversified my services into more STEM disciplines despite my humanities-oriented self.

Of course, being an English major did not hinder my ability to get good grades in unrelated subjects and courses. It was fun to see the reactions of those who believed my program choice derived from an aversion for numbers or science, though. Consequently, this unexpected volunteer opportunity served its purpose of enhancing my resume, and provided insight into the difficulties and victories instructing brings. It helped me make connections with other tutors and peers and protected my GPA through constant revision of the content I needed to study, and it made me realize that I can take pleasure in teaching.