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Post Brought to You by Rachael
I feel like I've been incommunicado for a while. And that's because I have. Just today I finally caught up on all of the Franciscan blog posts of the past year. I can hardly believe it was this past December that Sarah, Meru, and I took our icy road trip up to Megan's place in Idaho.
There's something I'd like to confess. I was deceiving you all and I was deceiving myself too. This past year, whenever asked, I was enthusiastic about my Master's program even though it was hard. Well in reality, it was HELL. I didn't realise how miserable I was, until, just a week ago, I dropped out.
My first semester I was warned it would be hard as heck. That I wouldn't understand a thing that was going on, and that I would barely scrape through. I was told, "just try to keep on top of the grades for that class, don't really worry about content, just keep your grades up. This first semester is going to kill you. It's designed to kill you and quash (I do believe this is the right word) your dreams. It's designed to eliminate those who aren't serious about graduate studies." So I stuck through, but I got a B-. As a result I was placed on academic probation.
The next semester was supposed to be the easiest according to the Prof. he said, and I quote, "This is the semester to counterbalance whatever grade you got last semester". Well sh*t (pardon the language, we'll get to that later in this post)! I got another B-. At this point I had two summer sessions and a fall semester to bring my grade up. But the really, super frustrating part about it: I had already had a Numerical Analysis class as an undergrad, whereas most of my classmates had not. Also, I UNDERSTOOD the lectures and the material. In no place was I ever lost. So how the hell did I get a B-? Too much time socializing maybe? Hell no! I worked my @$$ off! I poured every waking moment into passing that class. I got a homework partner and study buddy and we spent all of our spare time at coffee shops pouring over equations and trying to understand things. So how did I get my grade? Stupid-curve-ball-non-relatable tests!
So then my first summer session hits. I figure if I get all B+'s from here on out I can get off of academic probation. The first session was the first part of a mathematical modelling class. Let me tell you, I had fun, I loved the math! Really. It had been the first time in 10 months that I was excited to go to class and learn from the lecture. We even had this super cool project where we designed satellite orbits. I even made a GUI using MATLAB because we went all out and made FOUR different orbits with dozens of satellites in each orbit (we were only supposed to make 1). So what do I get in this class? B. This means it's A-'s and A's from here on out or I am SCREWED.
Second session, second part of mathematical modelling. I was really beginning to enjoy this applied math stuff, especially when we got to traffic equations, they made wave equations fun, and the heat equation was a blast. And quasi-linear equations, that is where I shone brighter than a Christmas tree. Stupid. F-ing. Tests! I don't get how tests can be made up of things that are not anything the professor has lectured on. I guess that's how the math dept at CSUF rolls. So, for the first time since 6th grade I got myself a nice. Shiny. C frinking +!!!!!
The worst part, from my POV, was that each semester I devoted more time to my classes. I mean, my first semester, all of my free time was spent studying and doing homework. My second semester ALL of my free time was spent studying and doing homework. First summer session, ALL OF MY FREE TIME AND SOME THAT WASN'T FREE was spent studying and doing homework. Second summer session, I. LIVED. MATH. AND ATE MATH AND SLEPT MATH, you get the point. Every class I invested more and more of myself to math. And my grades kept getting worse and worse. I don't get it. What I really don't get is how I kept having "more" of myself to invest. Every semester I was giving it my all, and each semester demanded more of me and I kept giving it. And when I'd get my grades I'd 1. be frustrated and feel like I wasn't giving it enough and 2. rededicate my future semesters to giving more of myself. And still, my grades kept getting worse.
So did my language - as you may have noticed from above. Let me assure you, every expletive above was entirely 100% intentional for added effect. But in my daily life I began to notice myself slipping, using uncouth words because I was frustrated and because the crowd I hung out with, the really smart ones at CSUF, used such words with reckless abandon.The problem cleared mildly when, in the midst of all of my cramming, I started going back to church. Now as some of you may know, church hasn't really happened for me in a very very long time. Not for any "real" reason, though there were reasons, valid ones at that, that kept me away. Anyways, apart from Biola I began to feel a lack of Godly influence in my life. I needed feeding and fellowship. Since fellowship was out of the question with my study schedule, I settled for just feeding. It felt really, really good to be fed. Plus I rationalized it as "Well, my grades can't get any worse, so I can totally "spare" some time for God". I cringed when I said those words then just as you are probably cringing as I write those words now. Still, it wasn't really "sparing" God any time. It was an actual conscious decision to carve out some time for just God in my life.
So, at Meru's and NicoNico's graduation I ran into Dr. Stangl. I mentioned I was looking for some work to help pay the bills (God bless my father for not pressuring me to work in any way other than on my studies) and pad out my resume. Dr. Stangl mentioned he had been thinking of me to teach the Nature of Computing class this semester.
Now I have been best buds with the previous prof. of that class, so I have heard ALL of the stories associated with that class. After much prayer and consulting with my father, I decided to go for the job. May the Lord shower Dr. Stangl and his immediate family with blessings for his patience. I took WAY too long on the application, partly because of my studies, partly because I am a class A procrastinator, and partly because it was a really, Really, REALLY hard and intricate application. Several weeks after I turned in the application I went into my interview and was hired. I signed all of my papers and then... then it hit me... "What times am I teaching this semester?"
One of the days in which I teach conflicted fully with one of my days of class this semester at CSUF. Woops. Guess I shoulda checked that one before I signed those hire forms.
Surprisingly, this wasn't going to be a problem with my CSUF prof. They just happen to be recording the whole class this semester as a tester for an off site master's program for statistics. So, my prof. would send me the video of the lectures that I missed and I would still be able to attend classes on the days I didn't teach.
All was planned well, but you know what they say about "the best laid plans".
I found out the weekend right after CSUF classes started that my grandmother, the one I'd started writing to, had passed away. So I went to school Monday night, and then went to the funeral Tuesday morning. Now the first homework assignment was due not the Wed following my grandmother's funeral, but the Wed following that. Well, I devoted ALL my waking moments to studying. But I found myself 1 day behind when it came to the homework. I asked my prof. for an extension, but, as it was the first assignment of the year, he said "no". I don't blame him at all, I probably would have said "no", though one's grandmother dying would probably have more of an affect on me.
Anyways, I got to thinking as I was working on my homework, knowing that I'd be turning it in a day late, about taking a year off. I approached my father about it and he was in full support. That was... unusual. He'd been pressing pretty hard this past year for me to stand my ground and grit my teeth and come out of this with a master's degree from CSUF, not because he cares about the school or anything, but simply for the fact that I KNOW God put me at CSUF for a reason, and dad thought that reason was to get my master's there. So for dad to just fully accept and support my reasons for pulling out of my stats class and taking a year off right off the bat... I was floored. I hoped it was a sign from God that it was time to move on. I asked my dad to pray over me that when I saw my prof. that night God would cement in my mind what I was supposed to do.
I met with my prof. before class and before I had finished talking he laid out my options for me:
1. Take a year off
2. Switch to math-teaching emphasis instead of applied math
3. Struggle with the class this semester and try to stick through it
As we talked I got the feeling that my prof. was leaning towards option number 3. I felt like I was getting mixed signals from God. Then I mentioned transferring to a different program. One that works with pure math like graph theory and combinatorics. My teacher leapt at the idea even more so than I did. He said it was a perfect idea, especially since he knew I had major pure math leanings. That pretty much confirmed it. But the clincher, it was beautiful. I got to class to find that my prof. was 1 chapter AHEAD of where he was supposed to be. How could I catch up with that?
So I decided to withdraw for a year. Well, it turns out that if you are on academic probation you can't take a year off. Judging by the mountain of work that I would never have gotten out from under I just decided to withdraw from classes and focus on finding another school with a program I like that I can start next fall.
That's been my life so far. Teaching at Biola has been great. I am just so thankful that God has directed my life and made it a bit easier. Hope it gets better though. I really do want to get a higher degree in math. I don't want to stop here. I don't want my life to fizzle out and become something stale.
Keep me in your prayers. And for those of you in my area, give me a call and we'll hang out.
