Why (Not) Chemistry?
An educator confesses…
I remember it distinctly, staring at my revision guide, an ugly fractionation column staring back at me. ‘What was the point?’ fifteen-year-old me thought, before flicking back to learning all the juicy details of the cardiac cycle…
Yes, I must confess, I loved science but hated chemistry. For so many years, it was like a thorn in my side — to be decent biologist I had to understand chemistry. To get onto the science courses I wanted, yep, you guessed it, I had to do chemistry as well.
It felt like the least-good of the science subjects — abstract, difficult and sometimes really dull.
I know now that I wasn’t alone in this. My experience in science education over these past years has shown me that many learners feel the same. Chemistry is a requirement for many science-based degrees, including medicine and veterinary science. For some students, chemistry represents an unenjoyable but necessary part of their education. It’s no wonder that can feel like an uphill battle for some.
Which areas of this subject do students find the most arduous? In my experience: mole calculations, redox, electrolysis and electrochemical cells all win the top prizes here.
Interestingly, topics that seem to have more of an overlap with other subjects seem more popular. Perhaps it’s because students can better see how these chemical ideas fit in the wider whole — be that how a fission chain reaction works or how water is made safe to drink.
Then again, my teenage pet hate, ‘fractionating crude oil’ has very obvious applications: fuel for vehicles, feedstock for making plastics and relevant products for the pharmaceutical industry… the list goes on. So why did fifteen-year-old me struggle so much to engage with this? Things didn’t improve, in the first year of my biology degree, taking chemistry was mandatory. I felt completely bewildered when faced with the myriad of metabolic cycles and complex organic molecules on the syllabus.
But, here I am, writing this, a thirty-something trained chemistry teacher, with a degree and PhD in the field of biochemistry. What on earth changed? Did I make these decisions with some kind of metaphorical gun to my head? No, I’m afraid it’s is not quite as exciting as that.
It came down to this: I just wanted to know how stuff actually worked at the molecular level.
Let’s take an example from genetics: cystic fibrosis. Genetics can tell us where on the chromosome the relevant mutation has occurred (that’s chromosome 7 by the way). Modern genetics can also tell you the exact nature of the mutation; the specific change in the sequence of DNA. But, without an understanding of chemistry, we would struggle to explain the mechanistic detail of how that single base change can translate into profound changes in physiology (if you’re interested, it’s due to a mutation in the cystic fibrosis transmembrane regulator (CFTR), a protein that functions as a chloride channel, when this mutation occurs, mucus produced is extra thick and sticky). Chemistry gave me the tools to understand, at a mechanistic level, why and how stuff happened in biology. For me, that was the hook.
Some people call chemistry the ‘central science’. I think this is where its appeal lies — chemistry allows us to link phenomena at the biological and physical level. Without chemistry, we would be unable to make the link between the electromagnetic spectrum and the human eye’s ability to detect colour; how light from distant stars could tell us about the possibility of extraterrestrial life or why the rate of particle collisions determines whether a drug will be effective.
The truth is: I fell in love with chemistry. It was definitely not a whirlwind romance but rather a very slow transition from a place of loathing to a place of real wonder and awe.
I know that it will be a relationship that endures.
