One Week to Re-Learn Calculus

Mechanical engineering majors take a long time to finish. In order to help with this problem, the department has been kind enough to compress three math classes into two, eliminating any parts not directly pertinent to the major and thereby allowing us to get them done a little faster. The first of these Frankenstein Death-classes, known as Math 302, is essentially linear algebra and multivariable calculus smushed into one class--there should have been warning bells going off by this point, but despite my natural reaction to flee and hide, I'm registered for it anyway.

Come to find out, there's a pretest in 302 that all students must pass in order to remain in the class. The pretest concerns the material of Math 113, which is essentially the same as AP Calculus BC. I did well in Calc BC--got a 5 on the AP test and everything--but that was four years ago. Not to mention I haven't been doing anything remotely math-related for the last two years in Hong Kong, and in that time my math ability dwindled to nearly zero. Put all those facts together and you've got an intimidating proposition.

This is an old picture, but it was too fitting.

So the week before classes officially started, I was spending three hours a day sitting in lecture (the department is nice enough to organize a 'refresher course' every year for those of us who have forgotten all our math) and the rest of the day studying by myself in the library, doing practice tests, etc. I essentially made a full-time job out of reteaching myself math.

I flopped into bed at the end of every day with a serious headache, but the calculus started coming back. In fact, when the time came to take the test, I was feeling pretty good about it. We had the test from 2002 to practice on, and I felt confident that I could do everything on it. There were 30 questions, so I needed 21 right in order to make the 70% pass mark.

Then the actual test came, and I was in for a rude awakening. It was already stacked against us that we couldn't have any sort of 3x5 card or equation sheet, let alone something as miraculous as a calculator--interesting how the point of this test is to make sure we remember the material from Math 113, in which you CAN use a notecard and calculator...
Aside from that, the test was just plain harder than all the practice tests, and covered a couple of concepts that never even came up in the practice material (they should've warned us about Arc Length; not one but two questions). I harbor some deep-rooted frustration with the department because the 2019 test was so much harder than the 2002 test, and here's why: the class material is the same. No new math has been discovered in the last 17 years, and the curriculum remains accordingly unchanged. Even if the class had become more competitive over the years, this is a pretest we're talking about; hardly the time to impose a tyrannical guess-what's-in-my-head ordeal to clearly identify those among us who don't have photographic memories, but I digress.

Anyway, I sat staring at the test sheet with 19 bubbles filled, all the ones I confidently knew how to solve. I was left to get at least two of the remaining eleven right through guesswork, which is statistically doable but still risky with five available answers per question. I rolled up my sleeves and applied my best fake-it-til-you-make-it multiple choice skills and came out with a final score of 22, bringing me to 73%.

I'm going to try to ignore that this is supposed to count as a midterm, but hey--I passed!

Hic Manebimus Optime!

My Final High School Achievement

Greetings! If you read my posts regularly, you'll probably noticed that it has been several weeks since I've written anything. Don't worry, you haven't missed much. Summer has just been far less eventful than high school, and there aren't life-changing milestones coming up every other week like there were two months ago. I've just settled into a calmer pattern of working, writing (other things, I mean; obviously I've neglected this blog a little) and getting sunburned. But high school had one last milestone to throw at me: my final AP score reports.

As most current high school students and recent graduates know, AP scores were released this week. I was fairly optimistic about my performance, particularly in English Literature & Composition and U.S. Government, but I wasn't so sure on Statistics. I'm more of a hard calculations guy than a talking-about-what-numbers-might-mean guy, so the entire concept of statistics never really jived with me. I am, however, happy to report that everything worked out all right in the end.

Remember my post about the AP amulets I kept in my pockets? If not, read it. It's a personal favorite of mine. The point is, they worked! I came away with fives from all three of my tests this year, meaning I have now scored a five on every AP test I ever took. That's something I'm rather proud of, even if most of the AP credit won't help me.

In closing, I have a bit of advice to offer to anyone taking AP tests in future years. Most academic professionals will give the same formula for success. It goes something like this:

Hard Work + Dedication + Studying = 5

There is something to be said for that approach, but seeing as I had my Calculus rock with me for every test, I believe there may be an alternate path. Behold.

Pocket + Calculus Rock = 5

I think I'll let you decide which equation is more correct.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

AP Squared: Advanced Placement Amulets of Power

You might have noticed I was AWOL last week, and I have an extremely short explanation to account for this. Here it is: AP tests.
During the two-week AP testing season, I was rendered unable to do much of...anything, really. In truth, by the time you return from a four-hour testing ordeal on top of a half day of normal school, your brain is essentially liquefied. And that doesn't even account for lifeguard training, National Honor Society service hours or the other things I've been occupied with of late. Simply put, testing survival mode entails meticulous preparation, semi-superstitious rituals, suspension of non-vital tasks and quite a bit of pencil sharpening, culminating in a fit of catatonic post-test trauma.

Thankfully, I survived. I think. It is possible that I'm writing this post-mortem, but not likely; I mean, I've heard of ghost writers, but I don't think that's what the term is supposed to mean.
I took three AP tests this year, which is the most I've done, but only about average at my school. I truly feel sorry for the students in the IB program. One of my IB friends had seventeen tests this year, so I suppose I should count myself lucky with three. These were English Literature and Composition, United States Government and Politics and Statistics.

Of these, the first two were simultaneously the most important and the least stressful, which is a good thing. Stats was a source of incredible stress until I realized the credit will not actually help much in my planned major, so in reality my score doesn't matter. That revelation offered great relief, such that I believe I performed better purely because I was relaxed. All in all, I think I did very well. I'll probably talk about it in July when scores come out.

To what do I owe my success? Definitely these things right here. And I'm only partially joking. I'll explain in a minute. First, let's identify what exactly these are. They're basically "AP Amulets" given to us by a few teachers at my school, to remind us of subject matter pertaining to a specific test. Rather than use them for only the corresponding test, however, many students at my school (myself included) bring them along to all of our AP tests for luck. Let's discuss them one by one:

• The Calculus Rock: These rocks with smiley faces are given out by AP Calculus teachers here. Although the rock itself is not inherently connected to the calculus curriculum, it serves to remind us of our rock-solid preparation for the exam, and also feels very good to hold in your hand when you're feeling stressed. Plus, it reminds you to smile! I took calculus last year, but I still brought my rock to all of my tests this year. I got 5's on both of my tests last year with it in my pocket, so why mess with a good thing?
• The Statistics Dice: These were given out by my AP Statistics teacher. They are, quite obviously, symbolic of probability, but have a few other perks as well. Mostly when you finish a test section and have time left, you can entertain yourself. Also when a proctor walks by, you can roll a die and fill in the bubble corresponding to the result, which should make them question your sanity. (I'm serious, people actually did that, purely to mess with the proctors.) Because let's be honest, if you really don't know the answer, you should always choose B. Always.
• The Jesus Band-Aid: These are given out every year by my AP English teacher. Why? Well frankly it's a very, very long story that involves everything from Jesus action figures to pencil toppers (they really make those things?) and actually has nothing to do with anybody's religious affiliation. The short version is that this serves to remind us to recognize Christ figures in literature. And maybe to remind us to pray if the situation becomes dire.

There you have it. These are the amulets of AP power. While they don't have magical abilities or anything, I can attest to a legitimate placebo effect. Carrying something like this in your pocket can actually make you feel more confident, which translates to better performance. And most of my compatriots and I don't even bother to stow them in our pockets, preferring instead to keep them on the tables in front of us as a constant motivator. We're weird like that.

Right now, I'm just relishing the fact that I never have to take another AP test again. It's a glorious thing. As for my lucky charms? In all likelihood I'm still going to have them at my college finals. Just you wait.

Oh, and one final message to those stalwart souls in the IB program:
My condolences. Seriously.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

Housing Misadventures

I am happy to report that I did successfully finish my online classes, so my graduation from high school is no longer under direct threat (refer to previous post if that sentence made no sense to you). I imagine it will be liberating to no longer have to worry about such things, since I have been doing online classes for the last four years. What will I do with the extra time? Frankly, I have no idea. But I'll come up with something pretty quickly, I'm sure. Just you wait.
In the meantime, the gap left by online classes will be filled with studying for AP tests. There's always something else, isn't there? Another three weeks and things should let up; then we'll be into movie-watching season (last year in calculus we watched all of the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy after the AP test was over).

But enough of that; on to something that relates to the title of the post!
Now that I know I won't be moving off to Hogwarts--um, I mean, Harvard in the fall, I need to secure housing arrangements at my mid-range school. It all started with finding a room, a process described in several emails I had received from the university. I knew how this was going to work. I logged on to the housing portal at the time and on the day that I was instructed (this was with priority status, mind you) only to find that there were a whopping zero beds available in on-campus housing. None.

Well, that isn't entirely true. There were a few beds available in the sardine-can dormitories where students are required to purchase a meal plan, but zero in the apartments with kitchens (that's where I wanted to live). My reasoning for not wanting a meal plan is simple enough: it costs about twice as much as actual groceries cost, and I don't want to put my hard-earned scholarship money into cafeteria food. So essentially I had the makings of a very serious problem on my hands.
Fortunately for me, the university in question told me when cancellations in the desired facility would be posted so that I could switch into one.
The chase was on.
So there I sat, staring at the computer screen moments before the clocks struck four. As soon as the counter reached 3:59.59, I refreshed the page and saw that the number zero had changed to six. Not a lot of real estate for the hundreds of students who wanted a slot (and likely dozens who were sitting there hoping to catch one), but at least it wasn't zero. I frantically clicked through the first one I could find--only to receive an error that the bed was taken. That was within the first three seconds.
I backed up and clicked on another, and this time it worked. I had a room. The other four were gone within another ten seconds. I count myself lucky to have gotten one, but I want to make it known that I owe my victory entirely to my years of "sniping" classic Lego sets on eBay in the final five seconds of the auction. Fear my nerd powers.
This is far from the end of the road. I may have escaped the overly expensive meal plan, but my new room was on the first floor of the building, and I would much rather have a higher floor to reduce the amount of noise coming from above. I have a chance now, though, and before this I had none. Now that I have a space in the proper building, I can hopefully trade with someone on a higher floor, which should be a much less stressful process than the adrenaline-pumping escapade of getting a room in the first place. Until then, I have more high school to attend to. Those AP exams aren't getting any farther away.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

One Week Later

It has been seven days since I received my rejection letters. I seem to be holding up okay, or at least as well as I expected. The fact is, I haven't been able to worry too much about college-related things recently because I am faced with a serious threat to my graduation from high school, and in my mind closer deadline = more important.
So what is this threat to my graduation? It's not grades, citizenship, attendance, unpaid fees or anything else that would normally put someone in this position.

It's online classes.
I know, not very interesting. But unfortunately in order to take the electives I wanted (and which would bolster an application to, say, an Ivy League school, but you know how that turned out), I have had to take multiple classes online throughout high school. Most of them I finished with no problems, but those aforesaid applications consumed enough time that I neglected them this year, and now I must have them finished by April 15 in order to graduate. I at least feel that I have company in this because incidentally, millions of people fear this day, albeit for entirely different reasons.

So here I am, slogging through the last two quarters of Health and Fitness For Life, both of which seem to be unapologetic reruns of classes I had to take in junior high. For something so boring, they sure seem to be able to pack in a disproportionate amount of busywork. Honestly, an entire unit on fat? Really?

Next week I will be able to say whether or not I actually finished (I will finish, it just won't be fun), but to distract myself momentarily I prepared a list of the top ten most interesting things I did in the week following my rejection. This is what I did:

1. Started writing my second book (I'm taking a temporary break from editing the first)
2. Got the class high score on a test in AP Stats (I'm proud of this one because I'm in a class with That One Guy who wrecks the curve)
3. Visited my grandparents for my granddad's birthday (always nice)
4. Built an awesome blanket fort (no really, this entails lashing PVC frames together with rope. I'll do a post on it later to prove it.)
5. Got an extra hour of sleep on Saturday because I no longer have to get up early for swim practice
6. Lost that hour when I had to stay up late doing AP Government homework on Monday
7. Found myself tangled in a huge housing mess with my mid-range school (things are looking better, I'll probably also talk about this later)
8. Wore my Harvard t-shirt on April Fool's day (the day after admissions decisions--people fell for it, too)
9. Successfully got a 16-bit computer game from 1999 running in Windows 8.1 on the new computer (you do not understand how much work it took to save Lego Rock Raiders.)
10. Watched the Rogue One trailer at least eleven times within two hours of it coming out.

If this list doesn't prove how much of a nerd I am, nothing will. But it is my sincere hope that this will demonstrate that getting rejected isn't the end of the world, and maybe motivate a fellow Reject to find ways to see the bright side while I'm at it.

Hic Manebimus Optime!