It wasn’t too long ago (or so I’d
like to think) that I remember studying for my Grade 10 Math board exams
thinking I’d never have to get my hands dirty again. The horrors of trig,
algebra, matrices, vectors and linear programming (nope, no calculus) would be
left behind as I started Grade 12 prep in subjects I thought were my cups of
tea – Psych, Socio, English Literature. For the next two years, the only Math I
did was a tad bit of Business Accounts and even then, my calculator did most of
the work. I mean for someone who wanted to study Sociology, why bother with
Math, right? Right? (Please say yes...)
Fast forward four years and the
college student in me realized just how disillusioned I was. For reasons I
still cannot fully empathize with, a degree in Development Studies meant I needed
to equip myself with an armory of quantitative skills, all based on a
fundamental understanding of Calculus. For an entire semester, I sat through a
Bridge Course to learn the basics before seeking refuge in my hostel room and
crying the Math out every week. Not that that helped anything, actually.
A year and a half ago, I began my
tryst with Statistics. For four months, I copied from the board symbols that I
could swear were abstract art but seemed to make sense to all around me. If the
Prof asked me where I had a doubt, I couldn't say because I couldn't read the
Greek out loud. I didn't know the symbols. I will never know whether it was the
countless pens used copying out the undecipherable symbols, many prayers and
tears or merely a professor’s kind heart that got me through that course but it
happened. A year and a few other challenges later, I found myself on the verge
of Econometrics.
I got myself a copy of the
textbook, assuming the real deal may motivate me a tad more than a
black-and-white photocopy (Note to Self: It makes no difference. At all.) and
tried to block out memories of super-smart seniors groaning about this
particular course in the past. Four more months, I told myself. Then I would
really be done. As I wrote ‘Q9’ on my answer paper this Friday marking the
beginning of my last answer, I felt a rush I remember from finishing boards.
One more answer, 15 more marks, and then this will be over. You will be done.
These last two days have been
spent on a euphoric wave of getting through it and as the inexplicable sense of
happiness started to wear off, just a tiny bit, I thought back at just how much
these courses have done for me this past year and a half. Here are my top five
Math lessons:
- It’s like medicine: It tastes like crap, most of the time, but it will do you good. Much of my education for the last six years has been stuff I absolutely adore. And then Calculus reared its nasty head and I have spent hours and hours doing stuff I neither understand, nor enjoy. But what has to be done, has to be done. Many years later, you may be the healthier for it.
- Variables vary: There is no point is asking why this alpha is different from that one. And thus, there is almost no point trying to keep track of these things. Embrace the fluidity and join the cacophony, defining your own alpha. Add a hat for good measure.
- Support systems are precious: These last few years have been a team effort and I kid you not. While I was probably the one writing the exams, the job of making sure I don’t throw myself/my notes out a window was in the hands of those around me. It seemed only right to call them after the last exam and thank them. You know who you are. I honestly couldn't have done it without you.
- Intelligence isn’t absolute: Single digit scores don’t bode too well on the intelligence/self-confidence scale or so I thought. I told myself it was because I hadn't done Math, I was right-brain driven, all these things. But the miracle of passing these last few courses and even coming to enjoy parts of it (only parts though) taught me something I’m unlikely to forget. Intelligence is as subjective as everything else. Man makes the hierarchy. I will forever be worse at Math than Sociology. So?
- Hats and stars could make all the difference: The night before the exam, as I closed my eyes to get an hour of precious sleep, all I could see swimming before me was ‘hat’, ‘star’, and ‘tilda’. The last six hours had taught me they were different, something about bias and estimation. Years of ‘silly mistakes’ and nightmares of words I didn't know existed drilled into me a lesson I couldn’t have learnt more effectively otherwise – attention to detail. That one apostrophe (‘dash’, is it called?) could make a world of a difference.
I still dream of not having to
deal with any of this in the future and who knows? Maybe two years from today,
I’ll be dealing with STATA and regressions all over again. But till then, I’m
done.
Uncharacteristic of my blogs so
far, I’m going ahead and naming two individuals who made all the difference to
my Math education, in completely different ways. Umar Sir from Grade 10 - for
sitting with me for hours on end making sure that holy 90% mark was hit and
calling me years later as I struggled in college to threaten me with dire
consequences if I didn't pull my socks up and Prof Anup Bhandari – for never
judging the inadequacy of my questions, the absence of any foundation and the
fear that was writ large on my face. The number of times I have gone in and
requested him to repeat weeks of portions is countless and never once have I
felt judged. Thank you.
