I knew going into my pre-calculus class that I would have a
harder time than the other students. I was older and it has been 5 plus years
since I took trig. The last time I took an algebra class was in high school,
having been waived through the college requirements through entrance exams and
an optimistic school counselor.
Still, I thought by reviewing my
notes before the test that I would perform up to par with the other students. I
did. Unfortunately, half the class failed the exam, and it was with these
students that I was up to par with. I did excellent on the homework sets and
totally failed the first test. Out of problems worth fifteen points I
oscillated between earning the full fifteen points and then getting zero out of
fifteen on the next problem. So it went: 15 out of 15 on problem 5, 0 out of 15
on problem 6, 15 out of 15 on problem 7, 0 out of 15 problem 8. While the rest
of the class earned partial credit on the majority of their answers, I was an
all-or-nothing case. My poor professor must have been exhausted scribbling “good,”
followed by “?” beside various attempted proofs in which I decided the best
method to solve the problem was to follow laws of mathematics that I had
invented on the spot.
So, now I have a D. I am not too
stressed out, as I have started going in for tutoring sessions on campus. I now
know that it is not enough to read the textbook and do a couple problems.
Truly, hours of concentrated efforts are required. I have been shamed, bent
over the lap of math and spanked on my butt. Okay, I lied. I am totally
stressed out. Given that I must maintain A’s or B’s in all of my classes,
regardless if they are part of my graduate program or ridiculously difficult “electives,”
I am wracked with nervous tics. I tend to get migraine headaches about 5
minutes into pre-calculus. My C programming class delights me, it fills me with
glee. Math turns me into a gloomy loner, hunched over proofs that are either
perfect or demented and riddled with cryptic methods for determining symmetry
of an equation.
Still, it is too late to drop the
class, so I am up late tonight, thinking about pre-calculus, writing about
pre-calculus, and preparing to complete another lengthy homework set for pre-calculus
before the sun rises tomorrow.
I
enjoy the math. I hate the failing. It is making me incredibly insecure about
my competency as a college student. I know every individual has strengths and
weaknesses, but I thought my greatest weakness was the skill of sanity. Ah
well, I can compensate by studying longer and with more caffeine.
In tutor session this Friday, I
showed up with five other determined students, armed with little sharpened
pencils and gritted teeth. The tutor is a kindly fellow, an international
graduate student in the math department. He has become a little accustomed to
my nearly incoherent stream of thoughts that burst out whenever I have a
question that I cannot keep to myself. Usually, I tend to keep my mouth shut
until I outline in pen a little written script to myself about how to phrase the
question for the teacher. Literally, I write a little script with dialogue,
main points, and a sentence that rephrases the question in case the professor
doesn’t get me from the first scripted question. I then read my question off the paper, thus
minimizing my usual flight of thoughts that happens when I try to speak off the
cuff.
“Yes, yes, I just wondered,” I
said. I had not written out my usual main points and I was doing acrobatic feats
with my train of thoughts. “Where is the form we use—uh, that we put it in, I
mean where does it go? Because I was just confused, where’s the…??? Square root
of x plus one into f of x which is square root of x---does that work?” It all
came out in a strand of loopy wordiness that somehow ended with the correct
answer to what g of x and f of x could be given h of x. The tutor stood there
for a few seconds before realizing that I had somehow magically tripped over
one possible solution to the problem. The other students were eerily silent.
The tutor wrote my solution on the board, saying, “Yes, this gets the square
root of x plus the square root of x plus one. Good.” I then decided I should
write out my solution and just read it off my notes instead of rambling like
that guy in “Shine,” the film.
But I must pass this class or go totally insane attempting to pass the class. No sleep until I pass! Seriously, of all the classes I am enrolled in---graduate level and undergraduate, this math class is the one that may hinder me the most. :/
