Monday, September 15, 2003
FIND THE VALUE OF X; I HEART MATH
Arithmophobia- Fear of numbers.
Autodysomophobia- Fear of one that has a vile odor.
Carnophobia- Fear of meat.
Which of these do I suffer from the most?
If I have not mentioned it before, I suffer from arithmophobia. No. nothing has ever been documented, but I know it is as the disease that threatens and taunts my psyche. While many of you picture me as stunningly gorgeous, breathtakingly brilliant, genuinely gregarious and an unequivocal deft epitome of womanly substance, I hate to bring you down a notch and tell you that all is not as it should be upstairs when it comes to doing the 'rithmetic."
Case in point. Last week, after work, I took myself to the bank-in-the-box to deposit my not-so-hefty-check (it's not like I'm educating the future throngs of America or anything). Usually, I have planned out my budget before I get to the bank. "Planning out my budget" consists of drooling about what I would do with my money if it was truly mine to spend, then wiping the foolish grin off my face before I write down on a yellow legal pad excactly which funds shall be allocated to whom, depending on the date of my paycheck. Thus, I pay myself an allowance in cash for two weeks, pay my savings account, take out my weekly allowance for gas, put the rest in my checking account for the businesses that really control my life and do not return to the bank until the next paycheck.
This day, however, I did not have the "system" in place. Without thinking I rushed to the drive-through, without the yellow legal pad, without an idea of what I was to pay myself this week. I asked the cashier for a deposit slip and then sat in my car for a good 15- 20 minutes while I did math sums all over the front and back of the check envelope, trying desperately to figure out how to allocate the funds.
I realize that to most of you, my ailment seems a portentous thing to post. "Minutiae!" you cry. But it is to you that I respond, "You don't understand." I sat there for a loooooooong time. I subtracted and subtracted and added and added, and then forgot what I had added and subtracted and why. I carried the "one", I even think I managed a little bar graph with some sine and cosine action. After I looked at my Venn Diagram and had set aside my protractor I admitted I was lost without my calculator. In the interest of time, I ended up taking a superfluous amount of cash out of my paycheck, and dipped into monies that rightfully belong to others!
Okay- I know you don't think this is a sufficient example of my poor math skills so I'll titilate your minds with some more and then I'll go cry in the corner because I royally suck at math...
...First week of school I gave a speech assignment that had to be done in groups of two. One girl was sans partner, so I dutifully joined her. After all, how can I ask the kids to do something I wouldn't do? Being the fair and just teacher that I am (and humble to boot), I did the homework assignment as well. An item on the assignment required that I put down a large number. I chose "one million" (the number 1 followed by a gajillion zeros, right?) When I gave my presentation in class, everyone ignored my faux pas, except for one very tall b-baller who meekly but mockingly said: Ms. X you said "one million" but your poster reads "one billion."
Eek. Who can tell the difference after three zeroes? Ay! It's a good thing I can laugh at myself. Yes, I was laughing outside, but I was feeling mighty crunchy on the inside. I blushed a much darker shade of pale.
Still don't believe me? When I was in high school, Inthe 9th grade I had to take consumer math AND my school split my one year of Algebra into two years. How embarassing. I slept with all my math professors in college so I could graduate, and performed an infinite amount of sexual favors for extra credit.
...okay that last one's a straight out lie. I kept my legs stapled shut all through college, thank you very much. I was a good girl.
I transpose numbers. Sometimes I forget how to do long division. I fumble fractions. I can't multiply, add, or subtract any numbers in my head if they're not single digits. I still use my fingers to count! The only math related problems I can require nothing short of a simple calculator.
Number one item on my list of "must have's" for a future mate: please come equipped with an extra large... heavy duty... super strength... er... Math Degree; I need man who can work my digits.
That sounded so sick and so wrong.
Having said that.... consider this:
If Batman has been imprisoned by the Riddler, and in order to escape he must find the quickest way to move the tower of plutonium disks from one post to another so that the disks have the same arrangement as on the original post, and he may move only one disk at a time, (deep breath) what is the minimum number of moves he must make in order to move the ten disk tower and have it appear the same?
[A 5th grade math problem borrowed from:
http://www.stfx.ca/special/mathproblems/grade5.html]
I read the answer and I don't get it.
KNOCK YOURSELVES OUT.
Arithmophobia- Fear of numbers.
Autodysomophobia- Fear of one that has a vile odor.
Carnophobia- Fear of meat.
Which of these do I suffer from the most?
If I have not mentioned it before, I suffer from arithmophobia. No. nothing has ever been documented, but I know it is as the disease that threatens and taunts my psyche. While many of you picture me as stunningly gorgeous, breathtakingly brilliant, genuinely gregarious and an unequivocal deft epitome of womanly substance, I hate to bring you down a notch and tell you that all is not as it should be upstairs when it comes to doing the 'rithmetic."
Case in point. Last week, after work, I took myself to the bank-in-the-box to deposit my not-so-hefty-check (it's not like I'm educating the future throngs of America or anything). Usually, I have planned out my budget before I get to the bank. "Planning out my budget" consists of drooling about what I would do with my money if it was truly mine to spend, then wiping the foolish grin off my face before I write down on a yellow legal pad excactly which funds shall be allocated to whom, depending on the date of my paycheck. Thus, I pay myself an allowance in cash for two weeks, pay my savings account, take out my weekly allowance for gas, put the rest in my checking account for the businesses that really control my life and do not return to the bank until the next paycheck.
This day, however, I did not have the "system" in place. Without thinking I rushed to the drive-through, without the yellow legal pad, without an idea of what I was to pay myself this week. I asked the cashier for a deposit slip and then sat in my car for a good 15- 20 minutes while I did math sums all over the front and back of the check envelope, trying desperately to figure out how to allocate the funds.
I realize that to most of you, my ailment seems a portentous thing to post. "Minutiae!" you cry. But it is to you that I respond, "You don't understand." I sat there for a loooooooong time. I subtracted and subtracted and added and added, and then forgot what I had added and subtracted and why. I carried the "one", I even think I managed a little bar graph with some sine and cosine action. After I looked at my Venn Diagram and had set aside my protractor I admitted I was lost without my calculator. In the interest of time, I ended up taking a superfluous amount of cash out of my paycheck, and dipped into monies that rightfully belong to others!
Okay- I know you don't think this is a sufficient example of my poor math skills so I'll titilate your minds with some more and then I'll go cry in the corner because I royally suck at math...
...First week of school I gave a speech assignment that had to be done in groups of two. One girl was sans partner, so I dutifully joined her. After all, how can I ask the kids to do something I wouldn't do? Being the fair and just teacher that I am (and humble to boot), I did the homework assignment as well. An item on the assignment required that I put down a large number. I chose "one million" (the number 1 followed by a gajillion zeros, right?) When I gave my presentation in class, everyone ignored my faux pas, except for one very tall b-baller who meekly but mockingly said: Ms. X you said "one million" but your poster reads "one billion."
Eek. Who can tell the difference after three zeroes? Ay! It's a good thing I can laugh at myself. Yes, I was laughing outside, but I was feeling mighty crunchy on the inside. I blushed a much darker shade of pale.
Still don't believe me? When I was in high school, Inthe 9th grade I had to take consumer math AND my school split my one year of Algebra into two years. How embarassing. I slept with all my math professors in college so I could graduate, and performed an infinite amount of sexual favors for extra credit.
...okay that last one's a straight out lie. I kept my legs stapled shut all through college, thank you very much. I was a good girl.
I transpose numbers. Sometimes I forget how to do long division. I fumble fractions. I can't multiply, add, or subtract any numbers in my head if they're not single digits. I still use my fingers to count! The only math related problems I can require nothing short of a simple calculator.
Number one item on my list of "must have's" for a future mate: please come equipped with an extra large... heavy duty... super strength... er... Math Degree; I need man who can work my digits.
That sounded so sick and so wrong.
Having said that.... consider this:
If Batman has been imprisoned by the Riddler, and in order to escape he must find the quickest way to move the tower of plutonium disks from one post to another so that the disks have the same arrangement as on the original post, and he may move only one disk at a time, (deep breath) what is the minimum number of moves he must make in order to move the ten disk tower and have it appear the same?
http://www.stfx.ca/special/mathproblems/grade5.html]
I read the answer and I don't get it.
KNOCK YOURSELVES OUT.
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