We're Only Human

I would like to believe, though I know this to be false, that I am good at everything. Even worse: when I'm not good at something, I'm easily frustrated, and just as easily compelled to quit. For example, I had my 12th birthday at the bowling alley. I suck at bowling. What compelled me to pick this place? I have no idea. Anywho, long story short: we end up with 3 balls stuck in the gutter, I've lost every game, and someone's dropped a ball on their foot (the same foot) more than once. You see where I'm going with this? If at first you don't succeed... skydiving is not for you.

Seriously though, I had a not-so-easy time in statistics today. You need to know before hand that prior to this thing called Temple University, I was good at math (or so I thought). Things have gotten a little fuzzy since then, but it's all good. Whatever the case, the last few classes- the teacher has been breezing through the work and has just recently started adding numbers. I know this sounds stupid, but let me explain first. We spent the first few weeks reading a chapter and going through the chapter in class, damn near verbatim. There were no numbers involved in this. It is a statistics class, but it's statistics in the news so he went out of his way to point out that this was less number oriented than it was fact oriented. Furthermore, because I had noticed that he was teaching directly out the book, I stopped reading. It was hard to stay awake in class, because I wasn't learning anything I didn't already teach myself the night before.

This was supposed to help me focus. Now, he's suddenly breezing through the reading material, throwing numbers all over the board, and I am completely lost. So... brave ol' Brandi raises her hand to ask a question. I've never been the kid who was too scared to ask. I was more the- 'answered too many questions and had too many to top it off' type. But the teacher begins to answer my question by asking me another question in a condescending tone. BIG NO NO! My father has mastered 'putting me in my place', as a child, I can't deal with a teacher talking at me (and not to me) as well. Not to mention, if I understood what he wrote down, I wouldn't have a question in the first place. So, asking me questions in regards to what he wrote is getting me nowhere.

By now I'm beyond annoyed and have given up on taking notes, which is the dumbest thing b/c striking back at the teacher by refusing to take notes doesn't hurt them, it only hinders you. Then he writes something else on the board that also brings confusion, continues writing (I'm still lost during this time), than goes back to the first thing he wrote saying he messed it up. In my head I started screaming, ripped my paper into a million pieces, threw it in the air, and walked out the class. Imagine that. In the physical, I began calling him all kinds of name underneath my breath. Than, my stat buddy Fredo snapped me back to reality.

He looked at me and said, "He made a mistake. He's human." Just to be a smart ass, I've mastered that-might I add, I replied by saying, "He's a teacher. Mistakes aren't acceptable." And just to shut me up, Fredo says, "BUT he's human first." If only you could hear how calm he was when saying this. It's just one of those scenarios that frustrates you more because you realize how right they are and how ridiculous you're acting. Wait... let me speak for myself... I realized how right he was and how ridiculous I was acting. So, to my professore, Mr. Izenman, (though you won't read this), I apologize for losing my patience with you because I failed to read the material before hand. That was my mistake. Afterall, we're only human. Right?

Working on my Patience,
B