posted September 20, 2015 03:16 AM
I wrote this poem before my final Exam in Calculus I. I ended up passing only because the teacher watched for a few minutes created an arrangement in which we would get an automatic 70 if we just turned our test in immediately rather than trying to finish it, so things actually worked out.Random substitution methods with no discernible strategy,
Long, complex problems that sound like an elegy.
I see the defeated looks in tutor's eyes,
And hear their carefully repressed sighs.
Break things apart, to make them fit.
When and why? I can't see the use of it.
Memorize formulas written in nightmare script,
They all look the same, like hieroglyphics on a crypt.
A normal-looking Integral, then out of the blue.
There are three unknown constants I have to worry about, too?
First there's one Integral, then there's five more.
Breaking it down is an impossible chore.
Part is Arcsin, and e is the rest,
How am I supposed to remember that on the test?
Wait, that's not all, before you are done,
Change the limits of the Integral, no that's not a bad pun.
I am impressed by your skill here, you're quite good at this.
If I didn't acknowledge that, I'd be quite remiss.
The minds of these men generate unfathomable solutions,
But I can't understand them, my mind's full of pollution.
The only thing I grasp is L'Hopital's rule,
But that's not Integration, so I feel like a fool.
I had the best teachers, and plenty of tools,
But there's no way to teach it, it follows no rules.
My only hope for success here, and it is quite remote,
Is a twenty-point curve, if I can reach the lifeboat.
It's like being in the ocean on a moonless, starless, winter night,
Paddling desperately as my body goes numb, driven blindly by fright.
I just want this to be over, and it will be tomorrow.
Even failure is preferable to prolonged future sorrow.