Pacing back and forth,
I glance at the dining room table. Stacks of large volumes of text lay
scattered on its surface. Peering at one
of the open pages, my eyes take in the haunting image of thousands of
characters and symbols. I know that I
need to do this. The time has come to
begin my math homework—a three step process.
First, I pull out the calculator from my pencil pouch. Before I can actually use the gadget’s
software, I have to solve a series of twelve mathematical algorithms on the calculator. If I do not complete these twelve problems
within five minutes, a chip embedded in the calculator’s computing system
automatically explodes. From personal
experience, a few of my friends unfortunately bit the dust due to slow reaction
times. The Chagrin Falls Math Department
describes this pruning process as “natural selection.” Second, I select a specially crafted
mathematics pencil. The eraser tip of
the pencil has a coating of sulfuric acid. Erasing errors on paper scorches the skin, which
teaches the user to never make written mistakes. Truly, no other mode of learning works more
effectively than classical conditioning.
Third, I start solving the assigned 1,000 problems, which span over 16
textbooks written in four languages, including Swahili. The first 500 questions inquire the basics:
differential equations, integration, and world hunger. After problem 500, things get a bit dicey. The subject matter shifts to
astrophysics. Questions range from “How
many stars exist in the sky?” to “Determine the flight path of Earth in 168 years.” To reduce the incidence of mistakes, for
every wrong answer, a random bone in the body breaks. Luckily, the human skeletal system has 206
bones. I can usually endure ten wrong problems
before I have to go to the hospital. If
I am lucky, I finish within the 12 hour limit.
If not, I lose the privilege to see my family for two months. Isolation from relatives reinforces work ethic
and the cost of failure. After a routine
night of math homework, I will then treat any chemical or physical damage. Optimally, I sustain the ability to walk and
move my facial muscles. After I put away
my math binder, I assemble a machete and a pair of nunchucks for the more
difficult task ahead. English homework.
I very much enjoyed this post, Alex. I imagine that everyone in AP English can relate to the nightly stress of grueling amounts of homework and will thoroughly appreciate the creativity of your extreme experience. Sometimes I too feel as though my teachers have given me textbooks written in Swahili. And although I commend you for your bravery in the face of math homework, I suggest that next time you use Calc Chat and save yourself a few limbs.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately for me, Alex, I literally feel you pain when completing calculus assignments. As a struggling BC student, I count myself lucky to have some of my appendages and visceral organs remaining. I also consider myself lucky because my mistakes in math tend to have small effects, such as misplacing a negative sign. I have noticed that this mistake usually just results in a dislocated pinky finger or middle toe, a pain which I have become used to, at this point.
ReplyDeleteI too can completely relate to these feelings of impending doom; after three years of struggling to understand anything at all in my math courses, I decided not to take math anymore. This year, I truly learned to value myself as a quitter. Hopefully, you can survive these last months of calculus without too much injury.
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