I became a Liberal Arts major at Rutgers College because there was nowhere left for me to go. I grew up admiring math and science, but it was no later than Ms. Perry in 10th-grade Geometry that I knew I had no head for figures unless it was figures of fun.
Speaking of which, having had Mr. Clarke for 9th-grade Algebra, teaching out of a book he wrote himself (and few aside from him seemed to understand), I came to believe I’d have more success with Arabian Nights than I was to ever have with Arabic numerals. Between us, I’m not sure those who developed the original numerals would have endorsed what was done to them in all instances.
And having barely survived Mr. Donovan’s biology class, I still wrinkle my nose as I type his name remembering the smell of formaldehyde that came with every sample of every species we would ever attempt to dissect, I braced for impact when entering the realm of chemistry.
And the alternative life journey has been quite good all things considered. You want fries with that. Just practicing what I am most qualified to do with my Bachelor of Arts degree. As a matter of fact, I’ve often wondered if the line of Latin in the seal on the diploma doesn’t actually ask us all to supersize. It sure looks nicer in Latin surrounded by red wax.
Of course, I never had any classroom time with Tim Blais, who puts the fun in fundamentals. Science and smile both have an “S” and there’s no reason you can’t have the latter while working with the former and he does his darnedest to make that happens every time.
And here’s where some less complex math can help him out and do a world of good for the next generation of mathletes and science fair warriors, none of whom we may ever meet.
If your tastes don’t trend towards the classics of rock (no History Major for you!), he can put some pure pop in your pop and lock, or add some dread to your street cred.
I could watch him all day, and maybe learn something which (I suspect) is his actual point. Anything to avoid determining the hypotenuse of a triangle or touching a deceased amphibian.