Mercifully, the semester has ended. People keep asking me (because I keep bringing it up) why I took a math class. Originally, I wanted to better understand some of my favorite theorists and writers. While that’s still true, I don’t know now if it’s entirely true. I’m not at all sure why I’m doing this. With all the time I spent on this course, wouldn’t I have been smarter to do something overtly career-related? Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.
In January, I planned to work ahead so I could linger over important concepts and make astounding connections. But that never happened. It was all I could do to keep up with the basics. I had too much else going on. Everyone does. A writing student wrote something similar in his reflection on my English course. In fact, he described it as “crushing.” I empathize, but I also disagree: a particular course is not crushing. It’s just one variable within a larger societal structure designed to present “crushed” as our natural state of being. (In other words: If my course hadn’t crushed him, something else would have.) Same goes for math. And even when a course is pared down to make room for lingering, students (including myself) will likely absorb that extra time into other, more tangible and measurable commitments.
Despite the difficulty in assessing a good linger, I nonetheless believe in its value. A thoughtful reflection can far outweigh the more easily quantified skills. And so here’s mine:
From the perspective of teaching and student-ing: Doing math problems together in class is super helpful. Sitting on the back row is, generally, the bad idea I always knew it was. Offering to help a student during office hours has huge impact, even if the student never actually comes to office hours. Test anxiety is real, and “eating a good breakfast” doesn’t help. Grading math tests seems to be as labor-intensive as grading essays.
From the perspective of learning: THIS WAS SO HARD. It was a lot of trial-and-error, repetition, and memorization. I’m not advanced enough yet to understand the whys, the causes, or the “meaning” in most of what we learned, and that made it even harder to commit a formula or process to memory. Note to self: You felt the same way when you were learning to knit and could only make square things. Eventually, you did knit a sock. Be patient.
From the perspective of math: With only the very tippiest tip of the iceberg under my belt, I see now that basic math is not the tight narrative I was expecting. I knew the advanced stuff would be hairy and imaginary and unpredictable, but I was naively expecting to find a solid foundation in this basic algebra class–I guess because the last time I tried to learn algebra was in high school where ideas are often presented as immutable Truths. Instead, I see math has the same bunch of tiny little truths with which postmodernism has littered the humanities. I should have known: it’s always turtles all the way down. Not to be overly dramatic, but this is causing some existential angst to flare up. Note to self: Take a breath. The world isn’t any less stable than it was this time last year.
What’s next: I have passed MATH 120a: Algebraic Methods somewhere between the skin of my teeth and the hair on my chinny-chin-chin. In the upcoming summer session, I’m taking MATH 140: Introductory Mathematical Analysis. Despite the awesome course title, I think it’s really just Algebra II since we’re using the same book as 120a. My (likely faulty) expectation is that 140 won’t be as difficult: I won’t have to do so much legwork to get caught up, and the math classroom won’t feel so unfamiliar. However, it’s 15 weeks of material done in 7 weeks. So we’ll see. I’ll check in here during the first week of July.