I went to college, and have one class to make it to a degree. It doesn't sound like much, one class... but that one class screwed me over three times.
I am never going to say that I am great at math. I never learned the college algebra. I can not tell you how many cups of water is in an olympic swimming pool. I can not divide the circumfrance of the moon with the amount of stars in the sky and equal the pressure of a black hole. Crazy stuff, I don't understand any of it, I can't even explain it properly much less learn it. In my past experience with most classes though, if you work hard and prove your trying, you will eventually come out with at least a D.
The first time I had college algebra, The teacher went through 75% of the sememester, then had to go dry out in a drug rehab. That professor lost our work, and by the time the new professor came in, it was like starting from scratch, with two weeks to go. There was no way I could prove that I had racked up the extra points through reports, and weekends spent in the "learning lab" trying to figure that crap out. All he had was the last few failed tests he gave us, and I was flunked. That replacement teacher was so good though, I thought he may actually be able to teach me math, and was going to take it under him the next semester, and he DROWNED! He died that summer!
So I took the class again. This time it was under this stupid old pervert, who was known for havng his picks. I never flirted with him and played back with him like others did, and he flunked me. He flunked me even though 2 other girls who DID flirt with him, and
cheated off ME made B's?? Another time I felt cheated by college algebra.
Between each semester I took that class I made the mistake of taking no math the next semester, because I figured I had all the time in the world, and after going through so much crap, needed a break from algebra. But then came my last semester, time to take that college algebra again.
So I took it under a woman. She didnt look like a drunk, and she didn't seem gay, so I figured I had a chance. This woman said that the math note-book that we were going to keep would amount to 25% of our grade. I knew that if I racked up the points in the learning lab, done every extra credit thing I could, and handed in a fat note book, I should at least slide by with a D.
The end of the semester comes, and the second to last day of class, she adds:
"By the way, if your notebook don't look like this, don't bother handing it in. I want detailed this and that (that she haden't mentioned before) I want it divides up with colored plastic sheets, that are dated and labeled, I want this, I want that... she wanted the mother of all math notebooks. This was something no one, no other math teacher had required, and there was no warning of it until the end of the semester. It was too late to go back and do everything she wanted done, because my notebook was designed the way every other teacher in that building expected it to be, except her! She ended up flunking 75% of her class over that damn note book.
So here I sit today, one class short of an associates, and a little bit of me feels like it was all a big cheat! Of course had I taken that class every single semester, I would have eventually passed it, but with all the screw-ups the teachers went through (especially the guy who lost everyone's work, and ended up in rehab) I feel like me, and a few other people who were probably affected, should deserve to have that class taken over again. And that's my rant for the day.
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