The titles says it all. I absolutely, positively despise Algebra II.
I should just come out and say it: I'm not really a math person. The thing is, I can be good at math. I've gotten really good math grades over the past few years, and didn't really mind math. Actually, at the beginning of the school year, a small part of me actually kind of liked my Algebra II class. I had decided to double up in math classes this year, which looking back on I somewhat regret because taking both Geometry and Algebra II isn't really ideal. But still, I like Algebra II more than Geometry, so the class was kind of just there, not really a complete annoyance, but a concrete being that I didn't realize would grow into a monster that would make me angry. Very, very angry.
So in October came the dreaded car project. Basically, my teacher - who can be mean and nice and unhelpful and sweet all at once - divided the class into groups and we were forced to construct a car out of wood that was powered by a mousetrap. I'm not going to go into all the logistics of it, but it was probably the most stressful project thus far of my high school career, and an unnecessary factor that made it even worse was that the group I was in was composed of four other teenagers whom I did not know and whom did not show any interest on doing a good job on the project. I spent months, months I tell you, stressing about this project. I'd be about to fall asleep, when suddenly, a wild thought appeared, taunting me with the fact that my car might explode or something on the day we were to race them and then I'd fail.
Obviously, I survived that project. I thought that Algebra II was going to be a breeze for the rest of the year. I was already gliding through the class with a low A - high B average, and recently got recommended to take Pre Calc next year, which was considered a great feat because apparently my teacher did not recommend many people to take it. But then came the chapter on exponents. Like, fraction exponents. And all the different types of roots. Cubed roots, fourth roots, you name it. This was probably my least favorite concept that we learned about all year. For some reason, the process on how to solve such problems was just not sticking in my head.
On Friday we took the test for this chapter. Where I live, a majority of last week had us snowed out of school, so we barely had class. My Algebra teacher resorted to giving us a crap load of homework on concepts that she hardly brushed over in class and announcing that we'd have the test on whenever we next saw her. So I studied for the test, and I'll admit - I did not study as hard as I probably should have. It was like ten o'clock at night and I want to go to bed more than anything, so I gave into temptation. But the next morning, when I sat in Algebra first period to take the test of doom, I completely forgot the information we learned.
I felt like crying right there in the middle of the classroom. I was going through every nook and cranny of my brain, trying to remember the rules for rationalizing denominators, and panicking because I knew that I was going to fail the test. Which I'm pretty sure I did, which sucks because that's going to be my first grade of the marking period.
Another thing that happened - my teacher gave us a review sheet to help us study for the test and told us multiple times "not to worry, this sheet's not homework". Oh really? THEN WHY DID YOU COLLECT IT AT THE END OF THE TEST AND REFER TO IT AS HOMEWORK???? I didn't finish said sheet for homework because I didn't have time, and I'm pretty sure that she won't accept late homework, and now I'm sitting in a pool of misery, cursing my stupidity and math skills.
It's funny how much of life is based on success. If you do well and succeed, you're basically guaranteed a happy life. Failure, on the other hand, rewards you by making you feel worse about yourself and not placing you on the same pedestal of those who fall under the "success" category. Failure is such a driving force in the lives of human beings, especially those of us who are still in school, and it's ironic because in the end all those tests you failed won't even matter. In the end, it's the kind of person that you are that matters, and what you do with the talents you were given and the thoughts that you think.
...And that's how to turn and angry rant about how you hate math classes into a philosophical way of reminding yourself that bombing one test isn't the end.
-Meg
No comments:
Post a Comment