Yes, just call me "Butthead."
Last week I started my math class. It's amazingly basic and simple and I've already proven that I tend to make tiny stupid errors that can escalate into disaster, and oh, were we talking about math?
One of our books (I'm not even gonna tell you the title of the actual math book. Suffice to say, my nine-year old niece will be qualified to tutor me in about two hours) is called, "Becoming a Master Student." I suppose the logic behind giving us grownups who should honestly be ashamed of our issues with math a book called "Becoming a Master Student" is that obviously we have grown up without the skills necessary for being a master student. The books is geared toward, I think, high school students who need to hone their study skills and logic (don't study in bed! don't study in a noisy dorm room!), but some of it applies to anyone trying to apply themselves in perhaps a new way and succeed at going to college or passing an eight week remedial math class.
One of the exercises we were asked to do this week for homework is complete a journal entry about our "feelings" toward math. I did it last Friday, figuring that if I didn't do my homework right away, knowing me, procrastination would kick in and I would be doing it, like in the parking lot before class. And I didn't want to do that (again).
They made it easy for us, and asked us to answer questions, rather than write an actual journal entry (which obviously isn't hard at all. See this blog, and any email you've received from me in the last three or four years). The answers I gave last week (written in pencil on college-ruled paper in a spiral notebook. Nothing says school to me like a spiral notebook. I love spiral notebooks. I bought two last week and am in heaven. I can't wait to start doodling in class tomorrow) are not exactly the answers you will read below, if you stick around long enough.
Journal Entry 19
Most of us can recall a time when learning became associated with anxiety. For many of us, this happened early with math and science. One step toward getting past this anxiety is to write a math or science biography. Recall specific experiences in which you first felt stress over these subjects. Where were you? How old were you? What were you doing, thinking, and feeling? Who else was with you? What did those people say or do? Describe some of those experiences:
I have always loved to read. I'm a reader! My mom encouraged me and read to me when I was just a tiny kid. My brother Dan taught me how to write (print, and write, in cursive) my whole name the night before kindergarten. Letters I had no problem with, and by the third grade was in a really high reading group, and in fact, was the only kid in that high of a reading group. But then in the third grade you start learning the multiplication table, and it all went to shit.
I don't know exactly when I figured out that I sucked at math, but I think it was the day Mrs. Plotke (a tiny, Hawaiian lady who wore huge wooden platform shoes and sported a giant hairdo; she was also my teacher in the second grade) pointed out to me and the whole class that I was the only one who didn't know the sixes. You know? 6 times 6 is what? 36? Well, sure, I know now. Mrs. Plotke stood behind me, all four feet of her, and said to me, "Irene. Matt knows his multiplication table, Joanna knows her multiplication table. Shevaun knows her multiplication table. Why don't you know your multiplication table?"
So it was over then. I hear you saying, "Yeah? So what?" And that's the deal, exactly. So what.
No more Mrs. Plotke. Maybe she was a good teacher at some point, but my experience says, no. But now I don't care.
I don't care, I don't care.
Now recall any incidents in your life that gave you positive feelings about math or science. Describe one of those experiences in detail.
When I took algebra at West LA College, it turned out that Drew had the same class (but at a different time). Drew was really serious about school at this point in his life. Surprise surprise: I wasn't. I was, however, willing to do homework in order to hang out with him. I was, in fact, willing to do homework with him and his friend Mark. Honestly, I can think of no other occurrence in which I was willing to study for a boy. I mean, I was willing to do lots of things for boys, but study? The thing is, he actually made us study. Mark and I might joke around or act silly, but unless we were breaking for a meal or a snack (Drew also took snack time seriously), Drew kept us from totally knocking off and drinking beers at 2 in the afternoon.
Anyway, all that studying paid off, because I got an A in math for the first time, ever. The thing about this story is, yeah, it's positive because I accomplished something, but my reasons for doing it aren't that honorable. Yeah, I was proud but obviously I didn't retain anything I learned (or else I wouldn't be in the Math for Stupid People class, now would I). So doing it because of some guy seems like a not-so positive thing. I have to figure this out and really look at my motivation. Is that positive? Self-awareness is always positive, I guess.
Now sum up the significant discoveries you made while describing these two sets of experiences.
Um, I think I summed up rather nicely. No more Mrs. Plotke! And no more doing stuff for guys! (Well. Within reason.)
I discovered my biggest barrier in math or science is...
I totally don't take it or this class seriously ("Math for Stupid People"?). I'm lazy and unmotivated most of the time. I am perfectly satisfied to coast, until I look around and realize that I'm way too old to be coasting, and then I have regrets. No more fucking regrets.
I discovered the most satisfying aspect of doing math and science is...
Not being embarrassed about doing simple math in front of people. Calculating tax, tips, etc. Working on stuff in Excel and using functions and actually knowing how it does what it does. Not being such a mathematical dork. Getting more enjoyment out of math rock.
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