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Then it happened. In the fall of 1985, I was forced at gunpoint (I
swear) by my college to take a math
class. Oh… the horror. It was Intermediate
Algebra. I had to eat three Rolaids just so I
could look at the schedule of math
classes. Over the years, I had grown to view
math in the same way as things
like cooties and the Ebola virus – avoidance at
all cost! But, I wanted to go to
college and I hadn’t taken enough math in high
school… so, I was stuck.
After two packs of Rolaids and some Imodium A-D, I finally picked a
class – late morning, so I could sleep in.
Hey, I was a serious student!
I still remember the first day of that class… I didn’t know whether I
was
going to throw-up, pass out or start crying…
but something was going to
blow. The teacher kept saying, “And you
remember this from last semester…
And you remember this from last semester… And,
of course, you remember
THIS from last semester.” Last semester… Last
semester? What was I doing
last semester? Oh yeah, I was sleeping. I
didn’t take any math last semester!
Oh my GOSH! I was supposed to take MATH last
semester?! Panic was
setting in.
Continued on the
next
page
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