I hate Math. It went all the way back to my days at Penn. Any kind of Math was horrifying, even simple stuff like fractions. In order to graduate, get a good job, become more independent and move on with my life, I had to pass Math. It was required.
So I picked the most basic Math course I could find, skipping Physics, Geometry, Algebra and all those other fun courses. Other courses I was determined to get an A. With Math, all I wanted to do was survive.
I went to battle. I bought a new pocket calculator, sharpened my pencils and went to work. Of course, this was way before cell phones and personal computers that you could hold in the palm of your hand. You actually had to figure out the answers on your own.
Our professor was an older guy with frizzy white hair , Einstein's brother perhaps. He promptly informed the thirty or so students in his class on the first day that most people do fail his course and need to take it over, so not to worry upfront. He even listed a detailed chart on the blackboard, showing the grades from his classes over the last five years. There was a heavy slant towards the "F" column. Very encouraging!
Whereas Professor Moriarty from Spanish Three was overly emotional, this guy was like a robot, spewing out facts and figures, Everything was charted, logical, with no emotions or feelings.
With such confidence to spur me on, I thought I had worked hard to pass Spanish, but not so. Everything was challenging now, as graduation was just around the corner. Stupidly, I saved the toughest courses for me the end, so that added to the pressure.
To my surprise, the Basic Math course was kind of fun at first. Einstein's brother often brought a pair of dice to class to help illustrate some of his points. Odds and probably, a skill that would help me the next time I was gambling in Atlantic City. My Uncle Henry wouldv'e loved this.
I actually did well in the first exam until we started studying Statistics, then things started going downhill fast.
The problem was that I would study hard but then go totally blank in class. I knew the formulas but I froze. That's a pretty helpless feeling, It didn't help that I was psyching myself out so bad, putting oressure on myself.
Why couldn't I get this? I wanted to be a Social Worker. Why did I need to know what the odds are of rolling a seven as opposed to a two? As with Spanish I didn't want to repeat the course again if I could help it. There you go, thinking I was going to fail before it even happened. Repeating the course would be like shooting myself in the foot- twice.
Meanwhile across the Atlantic, Jill was having her own problems with school. She vowed never to be a tax lawyer. Taxes to her were like fractions to me. She had mountains of reading to do. Her average final exam lasted nearly four hours. She had five of them to take. So our second planned vacation together was put on hold again.
Jill was also having trouble with her student loans again. With no student loan getting through law school would be impossible. She started working a part-time job not related to law, at a department store in Oslo,in their woman's clothes department , even though she really couldn't spare many more free hours.
Even worse news was the results of Jill's annual medical check-up. Several small cysts were found on her ovaries. They probably weren't serious or else they would've removed them immediately. The doctors would watch the cysts and more tests would follow in a few months. If the cysts were growing, more tests would follow and possibly surgery.
So between her health and Math my plate was pretty full with stress during that spring. Her letters encouraged me. "You can do it, love! Don't give up! Give it all you've got!" she wrote.
Problem was, I think I was giving it all I had, and it still wasn't enough. I was holding a low "C" in Math, far below my standards in school. I would actually be doing wheelies if I could maintain that C until after the final exam.
I prayed a lot. Thought of Mom and Dad. Thought of Jill. Thought about how far I had come. Thought about the future .I worked too hard to let it all slip away now. They were only numbers, I kept telling myself.
Lori was having similar difficulties. We were both people-people, sensitive to feelings, not logical robots. She was in danger of failing too and I knew she was thinking of her kids and her long fight out of poverty.
We did our usual cramming in the car, followed by a pep talk, and we were ready to go. This last exam started at 8:00am. I tried to stay calm as Einstein's brother passed out the test. Taking some deep breaths, closing my eyes and hoping I wouldn't go blank, or pass out, or both, I started the test.
Like the Spanish Three final exam, I wasn't sure if I had more right answers than wrong, but I gave it my best shot and waited for the results to come in.
Win, lose or draw I felt like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt even better when the results were posted the following week and I did hold on to the C.
Lori was delirious with her D-minus. We both never pretended to be rocket scientists. We were destined to be Social Workers- and we were on our way. Another mountain climbed.
The big spenders we were on our tight budgets, we celebrated by going out for pizza. After all, you only live once.
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