mathSo Wednesday I took my first of six tests for this class, the first in my path to a Maths degree vice the History degree I'd been shooting for. I'm proud of two things... one, that I took the test a week early (after spending about five hours in the Math Lab vice the three hours I'm required to spend) and that my final recorded grade was an 85. I could have retaken the test for a higher grade but the highest I could have got on the retest was a 90... I'll just shoot for a 95 on my next test and that will average things out.
Now the part I'm not proud of. I felt decent going into the test... I'd been debating whether or not to just go ahead and take it Wednesday (the last day of the week that I could take the test in my home campus) or whether to drive up to Warwick or Providence (30 and 45 mikes away) on Friday or Saturday to take it then, or just to take it next week on schedule. See, I'm trying to make it at least two weeks (if not three) ahead of schedule so I can get one or two tests of PreCalc in before the summer term... otherwise, there is no way in hell I'll finish that class in the summer term. Again, I felt decent Wednesday afternoon, I didn't think I'd feel like driving anywhere Friday, and I wanted to get the test over with. So after reviewing for about 45 minutes, I plunged in. 20 questions. Nothing from the material I'd been seriously struggling with. Took me about an hour to finish it, but I'd felt pretty good about the test when I handed it in... until the proctor called me up and said that I'd scored a 55.
Lucky for me (and my melting brain, which is still trying to reprogram itself in line with the right triangle model) we get one chance to rework the problems we get wrong... hence the 85. Also hence the extremely humbling experience I had.
Okay, this is a really boring post, and I have to get back to my homework anyway.
bovisrex
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