So I went to my Class Dean with a clever plan.
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y plan was that I needed the time to take a course inShakespeare, since I was, after all, an English major. She knew and Iknew perfectly well I would get a straight A again in the chemistrycourse, so what was the point of my taking the exams, why couldn'tI just go to the classes and look on and take it all in and forget aboutmarks or credits? It was a case of honour among honourable people,and the content meant more than the form, and marks were reallya bit silly anyway, weren't they, when you knew you'd always get anA? My plan was strengthened by the fact that the college had justdropped the second year of required science for the classes afterme anyway, so my class was the last to suffer under the old ruling. Mr Manzi was in perfect agreement with my plan. I think itflattered him that I enjoyed his classes so much I would take themfor no materialistic reason like credit and an A, but for the sheerbeauty of chemistry itself. I thought it was quite ingenious of meto suggest sitting in on the chemistry course even after I’d changedover to Shakespeare. It was quite an unnecessary gesture and madeit seem I simply couldn’t bear to give chemistry up. Of course, I would never have succeeded with this scheme if Ihadn't made that A in the first place. And if my Class Dean hadknown how scared and depressed I was, and how I seriouslycontemplated desperate remedies such as getting a doctor'scertificate that I was unfit to study chemistry, the formulas mademe dizzy and so on, I’m sure she wouldn't have listened to me for aminute, but would have made me take the course regardless. As it happened, the Faculty Board passed my petition, and myClass Dean told me later that several of the professors were touchedby it. They took it as a real step in intellectual maturity. I had to laugh when I thought about the rest of that year. I wentto the chemistry class five times a week and didn’t miss a single one.Mr Manzi stood at the bottom of the big, rickety old amphitheatre,making blue flames and red flares and clouds of yellow stuff bypouring the contents of one test-tube into another, and I shut hisvoice out of my ears by pretending it was only a mosquito in the 38 | The Bell Jar distance and sat back enjoying the bright lights and the colouredfires and wrote page after page of villanelles and sonnets. Mr Manzi would glance at me now and then and see me writing,and send up a sweet little appreciative smile. I guess he thoughtI was writing down all those formulas not for exam time, like theother girls, but because his presentation fascinated me so much Icouldn't help it.
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