Struggling At Cornell: a Firefly Story

While I struggled socially, matters weren’t much better in the classroom. During my high school years I breezed through my classes and did well on the SAT. But Cornell was a wholly different animal. I didn’t realize how difficult college would be, and as my first semester drew to a close, I was barely holding my head above academic probation. Maybe my mother was right, these students at Cornell do know more than me!

On the Friday before Christmas break, I made an appointment with my adviser so he could sign off on my second semester course selections. That morning, I decided to play a couple games of basketball with friends before we all headed home for the holidays. During the final game I came down awkwardly on my left ankle. What I first thought was a minor sprain would, hours later, be diagnosed as torn ligaments. The doctor wrapped my foot, prescribed some medication, handed me a pair of crutches, and wished me luck.

By the time I left the clinic, I was already more than two hours late for the appointment with my adviser. When I finally reached his office, he was gone. For the next 30 minutes, I paced back and forth on my crutches in front of his open office door, hoping he would return.

As my feelings of panic intensified, a philosophy professor in the next office, Nicholas Sturgeon, asked what I was doing. When I explained the situation, he told me that my adviser had left for the day, so he invited me into his office. Once inside, I told him about John Dewey High School, my grades at Cornell and the fact that I didn’t know how I would explain them to my mother. He asked me what classes I had taken first semester. His concern deepened when I recounted that my schedule included a freshman English class, a difficult calculus class, tutorial physics and intensive Latin.

“Whoa, that is some serious schedule,” he said. “Why did you choose those classes?”

“They were the ones my adviser suggested,” I replied. “When we met, he told me that my math SAT score suggested that I could take on the more difficult math sequence.”

“Did you take calculus in high school?”

“For seven weeks. I graduated after the first seven-week cycle of my senior year so I could work and save some money for college.”

“So, you didn’t even have a full year of calculus?”

“No.”

“Did you take physics in high school?”

“No.”

“Then why did you take a tutorial physics course when you’d have to teach it to yourself?”

“My adviser told me that taking care of my science requirement with the tutorial physics class would be a good idea. He said I could handle it because I took a lot of classes on my own in high school.”

“Did you have Latin in high school?”

“No, I took French from seventh to tenth grade. But I didn’t score high enough on Cornell’s exam for fluency. My adviser told me I should take the accelerated Latin class to gain proficiency in a second foreign language, which would satisfy the language requirement. He also said I should take Latin since I wanted to be a lawyer and that Latin would be important.”

Professor Sturgeon looked at the classes I intended to sign up for next semester. The plan was to continue my calculus, physics and Latin courses and to take another freshman English class. He shook his head and pulled out his copy of the course catalog. I’m not sure if he realized it, but he was about to save my academic life.

“Here is what you’re going to do,” he began. “You will take the freshman English class that teaches the great American novel. You will read Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Mark Twain. Before you go home you will go down to the bookstore and pick up the five novels for that class. You will read them all over Christmas break. With that foot, you are not going anywhere so why not read? We will sign you up for Economics 101. You will get that textbook as well and read it over break. Since calculus was one of your better grades we will keep you in that and Latin. If you can sweat out one more semester of Latin you’ll be all set.”

Professor Sturgeon then called my Latin professor and told him about my situation. The Latin professor was shocked that I would even attempt his class without at least two years of Latin under my belt. So they worked out a plan for me. If I attended class every day, did all my work and gave an honest effort to keep up, I would pass his course even though it would be difficult for me to earn a passing grade.

I was so desperate and happy to receive this guidance without judgment that I giddily left his office with a new schedule, a brighter outlook on my academic prospects, and my crutches.           

During that six-week Christmas break, I hobbled around, listened to Beethoven, Miles Davis, and Stevie Wonder, and read. By the time I went back to Ithaca, I was no longer the dumbest freshman on campus and my grades skyrocketed. With Professor Sturgeon’s guidance, I had cracked the code to succeeding academically at Cornell.

A basketball game, torn ligament, and kindly philosophy professor saved my academic (and probably my professional) career.