It’s no secret: I abhor math. When I was little, age 3, or so, in order to get to sleep at night I would force my poor mother to, “do math,” with me, addition, subtraction and yes, even a little multiplication. Until my Sophomore year of high school, I enjoyed the subject. Then, Mr. Hundley, the world’s worst teacher, entered my life. On the first day of Geometry class, he said, and I am quoting, “Over half of the girls in this class will fail, because girls can’t do math.” Great way to encourage anyone. He intimidated me, so I did have a little trouble, but luckily I had my dad to help. But, later that Fall, my dad passed away. My in-home Geometry tutor was gone and Mr. Hundley knew it-not only did he pick on me in class, but after I returned to school, he refused to allow me to make-up any work. (Until the Principal stepped in). From this point forward, anxiety set in any time mathematics was involved.

Sure, most of you are saying, “Beth, why in the hell are you discussing math?” Because, tomorrow at 9am, I again have to prove I’m intelligent by taking an exam. Math is involved. The exam does not guarantee a job-I have to take it in order to be considered for classes which would lead to a job. In a hospital, pulling patient charts and answering the phones. Tell me- how does knowing the answer to x+y= prove I can answer a phone? I’m literally pulling my hair out-ok the white hairs, but I really need to pass the test. I’ve studied, but retaining the information has proved difficult. I have an IQ of 143 and I’m worried about freaking x+y.

If I don’t blog for a few days, you’ll know why. I’ll be the one at the drive-thru window at McDonald’s asking if you’d like to try a latte.