So I finally finished my course in infi (infinitestimasomething calculus). I'm not sure if I passed, but I am done.
The test was Thursday. I wanted to spend just a little time Thursday morning studying - L'hopital's rule in particular seemed to keep falling out of my head - but it was like trying to eat when you're nauseous. I was just too wired.
I had previously tried to calm myself by thinking how it wouldn't be so bad, really, to fail this course. I can always retake it in the summer. It's not like I had anything else to do. I would have just wasted all that time on things like parenting and not hating my life. It would even be good for me to repeat the course. I would get a much better grasp of the material.
The problem is, that approach worked so well that I got too calm.
So this time I tried to be rational. I thought to myself, Self, you are as on edge over this as you were when the rocket siren went off back in 2008. Now that's just absurd. It's just a test.
Then I thought, well, let's do the math.
There have been, like, 8,000 rocket attacks over the past 5 years or so, and I would guess 10-15 fatalities. I won't even factor in the fact that when the rocket siren sounded I was inside, which would have dramatically reduced my chances of injury. I'll assume I had 70 years of life left at that point (high estimate), and that there were 80,000 people with me in the rocket's range (it was more) so my personal chances of being the person who died, if one of us did, were not high.
So E(years of my life lost) = p (death) x 70 = (15/8,000) x 1/80,000 x 70 = 1.64 X 10^ (-6)
Whereas E(years of my life lost) for the math test = chances of failure x time lost if I have to retake the test. Let's assume I'd study for a total of three weeks if I had to retake the course.
E (life lost) = 3/52 x 0.50 = 2.8 x 10^ (-2)
Now, I was very on edge so the math might have been off, but even if I was off by a factor of 100 the results are clear:
Even math agrees that math tests are worse than rockets.
Anyway. At that point I thought BRAIN SHUT UP YOU ARE NOT HELPING and went grocery shopping with a toddler, which turned out to be a remarkably good way to burn nervous energy. And non-nervous energy. Pretty much every kind of available energy.
(The thing about grocery shopping with toddlers isn't the running after them, it's the need to look constantly perky and unflustered when you do because people - and not just any people, GRANDMOTHER people - are watching. So you can't just be like, "AHHHHH why won't you STOP!!! Can we please, please, please just get the last few items and go???.... No?... That's it, I'm using these plastic bags to fashion a crude leash and tie you to the cart," you have to be like, "Oh baby S, you need to come back over here! Honey, you know what Mommy says about using the toilet paper as a trampoline," all while smiling maniacally in what you hope looks like a Normal Functioning Mommy face but probably looks more like Deranged Pudgy Bag Lady on Speed.
Anyway.
Just for the record, I slipped toward the end and looked flustered next to a Russian Grandmother as baby S ran off while I was running my bread through the slicer. And it was wonderful. The Russian Grandmother type picked Baby S up like it was no big thing and started talking to her in Russian; if I understood correctly, mostly saying something about why is Baby S wearing only one sock. Baby S was too surprised to tantrum and so just stayed in her arms staring at her, and I got my bread sliced before taking her back.)
So by the time I got home, packed some snacks for Baby S, packed a bag for me, checked to make sure I had all my things, realized I couldn't find my student ID, looked for my student ID, looked again for my student ID, called Viggy in a complete panic, looked with Viggy for my student ID, hyperventilated, and finally found my student ID at the foot of the bed where it had fallen out of my pocket the day before - it was already time to go. What good timing.
The timing became a bit less good when I missed my bus. Here is why I missed my bus: because I was waiting for the other one. It turns out I wanted the 70, not the 78, or maybe it was the other way around. I don't even remember anymore, meaning this will probably be a problem during my next test, too.
(pictured above: someone who does not stand a very good chance of passing her math test)
Fortunately I still got there just in time. Then I actually took the test, which took exactly the three hours I had to take it. I just hope whoever's grading it understands the parts where I crossed things out at the last minute and added notes in the margin. Or maybe I should hope that whoever's grading it doesn't understand, and thus wrongly assumes the best about what I meant to say.
In a post-test rundown of the questions and my answers with a Parental Unit, I realized that I probably did better on one question than I had thought, that I definitely did worse on another than I had hoped, and that overall I have a shot at passing.
My (realistic) hope is for an overall score somewhere in the 70s. That's a very low score for someone who's taken Calculus before, but on the other hand, it's a very high score for someone who can't even figure out which %@#$^*& bus to take to the test.
I should know for sure in a couple of weeks.
And if I fail, well... I hear enjoying life is overrated anyway.
The test was Thursday. I wanted to spend just a little time Thursday morning studying - L'hopital's rule in particular seemed to keep falling out of my head - but it was like trying to eat when you're nauseous. I was just too wired.
I had previously tried to calm myself by thinking how it wouldn't be so bad, really, to fail this course. I can always retake it in the summer. It's not like I had anything else to do. I would have just wasted all that time on things like parenting and not hating my life. It would even be good for me to repeat the course. I would get a much better grasp of the material.
The problem is, that approach worked so well that I got too calm.
So this time I tried to be rational. I thought to myself, Self, you are as on edge over this as you were when the rocket siren went off back in 2008. Now that's just absurd. It's just a test.
Then I thought, well, let's do the math.
There have been, like, 8,000 rocket attacks over the past 5 years or so, and I would guess 10-15 fatalities. I won't even factor in the fact that when the rocket siren sounded I was inside, which would have dramatically reduced my chances of injury. I'll assume I had 70 years of life left at that point (high estimate), and that there were 80,000 people with me in the rocket's range (it was more) so my personal chances of being the person who died, if one of us did, were not high.
So E(years of my life lost) = p (death) x 70 = (15/8,000) x 1/80,000 x 70 = 1.64 X 10^ (-6)
Whereas E(years of my life lost) for the math test = chances of failure x time lost if I have to retake the test. Let's assume I'd study for a total of three weeks if I had to retake the course.
E (life lost) = 3/52 x 0.50 = 2.8 x 10^ (-2)
Now, I was very on edge so the math might have been off, but even if I was off by a factor of 100 the results are clear:
Even math agrees that math tests are worse than rockets.
Anyway. At that point I thought BRAIN SHUT UP YOU ARE NOT HELPING and went grocery shopping with a toddler, which turned out to be a remarkably good way to burn nervous energy. And non-nervous energy. Pretty much every kind of available energy.
(The thing about grocery shopping with toddlers isn't the running after them, it's the need to look constantly perky and unflustered when you do because people - and not just any people, GRANDMOTHER people - are watching. So you can't just be like, "AHHHHH why won't you STOP!!! Can we please, please, please just get the last few items and go???.... No?... That's it, I'm using these plastic bags to fashion a crude leash and tie you to the cart," you have to be like, "Oh baby S, you need to come back over here! Honey, you know what Mommy says about using the toilet paper as a trampoline," all while smiling maniacally in what you hope looks like a Normal Functioning Mommy face but probably looks more like Deranged Pudgy Bag Lady on Speed.
Anyway.
Just for the record, I slipped toward the end and looked flustered next to a Russian Grandmother as baby S ran off while I was running my bread through the slicer. And it was wonderful. The Russian Grandmother type picked Baby S up like it was no big thing and started talking to her in Russian; if I understood correctly, mostly saying something about why is Baby S wearing only one sock. Baby S was too surprised to tantrum and so just stayed in her arms staring at her, and I got my bread sliced before taking her back.)
So by the time I got home, packed some snacks for Baby S, packed a bag for me, checked to make sure I had all my things, realized I couldn't find my student ID, looked for my student ID, looked again for my student ID, called Viggy in a complete panic, looked with Viggy for my student ID, hyperventilated, and finally found my student ID at the foot of the bed where it had fallen out of my pocket the day before - it was already time to go. What good timing.
The timing became a bit less good when I missed my bus. Here is why I missed my bus: because I was waiting for the other one. It turns out I wanted the 70, not the 78, or maybe it was the other way around. I don't even remember anymore, meaning this will probably be a problem during my next test, too.
Fortunately I still got there just in time. Then I actually took the test, which took exactly the three hours I had to take it. I just hope whoever's grading it understands the parts where I crossed things out at the last minute and added notes in the margin. Or maybe I should hope that whoever's grading it doesn't understand, and thus wrongly assumes the best about what I meant to say.
In a post-test rundown of the questions and my answers with a Parental Unit, I realized that I probably did better on one question than I had thought, that I definitely did worse on another than I had hoped, and that overall I have a shot at passing.
My (realistic) hope is for an overall score somewhere in the 70s. That's a very low score for someone who's taken Calculus before, but on the other hand, it's a very high score for someone who can't even figure out which %@#$^*& bus to take to the test.
I should know for sure in a couple of weeks.
And if I fail, well... I hear enjoying life is overrated anyway.
You did fine...I just know it. Anyway, it's not like anyone needs calculus in real life. Lighten up, cutie!
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