Note: At least this semester isn’t focused on public speaking or Harry Potter. 

It’s already week three of this semester, and holy shit, is it hard! 

Well… the math isn’t hard, perse. Rather, it’s the system that the college is using that is hard. That system being a very finicky (and very badly coded) thing called DeltaMath (DM for short), which everyone hates. Especially me. 

For most math problems (of almost any type), there can be multiple correct answers for the same problem. For example, 4/2 can also be written as 2/1, or 8/4, or 2, or 2.0, etc. essentially to infinity. However, DM doesn’t think so. Worse, it doesn’t usually tell me what exactly it wants from me (it’s not multiple-choice either). So, since the very beginning of the semester, DM has been telling me I’m wrong even though most of my solutions to the problems are correct. They are just correct in a way that DM doesn’t like. 

Sounds a bit familiar, doesn't it?

Thankfully, my college algebra professor agrees that DM is stupid, and I’m not. Apparently, this is the first semester my college is instituting this shitty program. This course wasn’t created by my prof. It was created by the state community college board (whatever that’s called), and my college was forced to institute it for stupid politics reasons (or something of the sort. You get the gist). 

Last week, my professor went on a little mini rant about it saying, “This [college algebra] course was created by someone who has never taught any sort-a math in their lives… don’t feel bad if you fail, because the people who created this course have no idea what it entails.” 

His quote impacted me so much that I actually wrote it down in my notes for that day, just as a way to comfort myself. Because, goddamn, I feel like I’m being forced to face my inner demons head-on at Mach 10. Only this time, it’s not the teacher giving me a hard time. It’s the algorithm that was created by someone with the same mentality as my 8th grade math teacher, which is giving me a hard time. 

Aside from crying about it in therapy, then ranting to my mom about it, I called my dad much like I did when I was panicking about last semester’s public speaking course. Dad was very understanding and shared my frustration about the DM system being dumb. Then, towards the end of our conversation, he reassured me that, so long as I tried my best and learned at least a few things, then I ought to consider this semester a win, even if I fail. 

“After all…” he began, “You can always retake the class next semester and turn that F into a C or above… however, if you just stick to this course now, you may not need to retake it next semester. There’s a good chance you’ll be one of the few who pass this course… Let me be frank: you’re probably the smartest, most hardworking student in the class. So, don’t let failure hang over your head too much. Just do your best, and everything else will work out. Most people fail a college course at some point or another. It just is what it is."

“You promise I won’t die?” I facetiously asked. 

“This course will not kill you…” Dad laughed, “Just don’t do anything stupid- like pulling an all-nighter before a test the next day- and you’ll live to tell the tale.”

“Alright.” I sighed, “Shall we meet up this weekend?”

“I’m going skiing.” Dad replied, “Why don’t we meet up for an early dinner Monday, unless you want to go skiing?”

"Uhhh... no."

"Oh, c'mon!" Dad laughed, "Don't you wanna give the bunny hill another shot?"

"No." 

"Why not?"

"Cuz I can't ski for shit." I smirked. 

"Oh, alright..." Dad conceded, "How 'bout I call ya after class on Monday and we can figure out where to eat."

“Works for me!” 

“Alrighty! Don’t forget to take your damn chill pills!” Dad sang before we said our goodbyes. 

“Evidently, they’re not working.” I mumbled to myself as the phone hung up.