I was fortunate in my undergraduate work to never have to take a math class. I was able to do this because I took a Calculus class in high school through a University that allowed me to get three college credits before I even stepped foot on a campus.
I remember at the beginning of high school, I loved math. I had an amazing teacher my freshman year and I know that directly related to my high grades. Then, as I changed school, I became more social and less interested in the subject that had so many rules and definite answers. My teachers, until my senior year, paled in comparison to my freshman teacher, so that added to my complete dislike in the subject.
Somehow though, I still qualified to take the college credit Calculus class, which I somehow passed, even though I got a 55 on our final exam. (Mrs. Thomas, if you ever read this, thank you for passing me. I know that my grades did not have much to do with it!)
I’ve always proclaimed my love for English. I loved devouring the classics in my Independent Reading class in high school (still the best course I have taken…ever) and I so enjoyed my PR core classes in college that required me to write proposals and plans. What I found so desirable about reading, reading comprehension, and writing was that that lines of wrong and right were so blurry. I could design a completely different PR plan for a company as the person sitting next to me and both could be effective. I could read Pride and Prejudice and finish understanding the themes and characters, but what I felt about the book was not the same as my peer.
Through high school and college, the subjectivity of this was freeing and allowed me to express myself in a way that nothing else did. While there are rules of grammar, I was free to fill the pages with content, creating whatever ideas I wanted. For the most part, the opportunities were limitless. The rules, endless.
This version of me was drawn to that.
“This” version is the me who would get dressed up to go to a house party, drink cheap beer, then make my way to the convenience store for a dinner of cheese and crackers on the picnic table. I don’t regret it. You wouldn’t either.
Enter: Statistics. I’m not sure why the book has a pair of Converse on it.
I’m in the process of taking prerequisites so I can eventually go back for my Master’s degree in a different field. One of these courses is Statistics. When I saw this, I was immediately petrified. Just the phrase “math” makes my nervous. My mind goes back to my 18 year old self that was constantly confused, asked a million questions, but was no interested enough in the “rules” and formulas to consistently do well.
I’m half way through my stats course. And I LOVE it. I love the homework, I love the class and my professor, I love that I understand it. I love the whole damn thing.
High school and college are such structured years. Sure, when you get to college you can take anything you’d like, but there is a specific line of coursework that is predetermined in order to complete that major. I lived on my own, but I always knew that when summertime came, I was back at home. Rules dictated how to live life and for the most part, we all followed.
But after graduation and still today, I am trying to determine what I want based on what is best for me. Not what is written down on paper, not what my parents say. And still, almost 3 years after walking across the stage and receiving my diploma, I am still sorting through all of it. I’m trying to make the best decisions for myself, based on who I want to become and what I want my life to be.
Essentially, I have no rules tying me down and I’m still trying to understand what that means for me.
So when my professor says, “What is the probability of getting a heads when you flip a coin?”
I don’t have to retort back with, “Well, is that heads happy and set in it’s career? Does it have a significant other who is loyal and kind to it?” Or “How much money does the tails have in the bank? WIll that be enough for them to make a huge move or buy a house or go back to school? Is that tails ready to get married and have kids?”
Because for the answer, none of that matters. It is simply, 50%. And it is for that reason, I am thankful to have statistics.
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