July 8th, 2018
My instructor is a prick. He’s someone who knows and loves this stuff … and has an air about him that suggests “fuck you if you don’t know what I know.” If you saw his pictures, he looks like that social outcast that mastered his ‘thing’ and suffers no one because no one suffered him.
If I get a C out of this class, I’ll be happy. Shooting for an “A”, but the trouble is like all trouble I have with instructors: they prefer to cast an opinion rather than a rubric-based grade.
I’m going to try not to complain much more about algebra. It takes away from my actual study of this crap. Thus far, I passed along my homework to a few people who ‘should’ have known this stuff and they all haven’t a clue and admit they haven’t used algebra since high school.
So it’s confirmed: Algebra is like breathing. We do it every day— but should we have to remember to actually think about breathing, we wouldn’t like it. It’s not natural and we will end up being uncomfortable. Algebra is best kept a hidden language that no one thinks to use unless he is in NASA. All other jobs and places, it’s worthlessly thought about.
Which makes people like this dweeb instructor so happy. We’re forced to take his class. For the next five weeks, he’s the master.
I’m still cheating. Fuck him. The MOST I’m learning from Algebra is the proper method to stick into a calculator and provide the answer needed. Anything else is bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
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