When drawing functions on a graph, adding a little negative sign in just the right place will make the lines flip sideways or vertically: this is called “reflecting with respect to the y-axis” (or the x-axis). Similarly, this little algebra class has flipped some of my directions and perspectives.

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.