Page 1 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

Violet

I hate this class. I hate this class. I hate this class.

“Miss Miller, what is the value of x in this equation?” Professor Hank Drivels asks drily, pointing at the last equation he wrote on the board. He’s well aware that I will get the answer wrong.

“Um… pass?”

The snickers of several students reach my ears, and I slouch in my seat.

“No, the answer is not pass. Mister Lewis, could you give us the proper answer?” Professor Drivels crosses his arms and shakes his head, turning away from me to one snickerer.

“Yes, sir! x equals twenty-seven,” James Lewis answers confidently, smirking at me as he does so.

I don’t know what these jerks expect. Everyone knows I’m bad at math. I think the professor keeps calling on me because he takes perverse pleasure in the fact that I haven’t answered a single question correctly since the semester started.

“Yes, that is correct. Thank you, Mister Lewis.” Professor Drivels turns back to me. “Please see me after class, Miss Miller.”

The snickering resumes, and I nod, slouching even lower in my seat. If I slouch any more, I’ll wind up on the floor, but damn, am I embarrassed.

The rest of the class passes without incident. I kept my head down, avoided eye contact, and struggled to understand the material. My notes are a jumbled mess by the end of class time.

There’s a reason I’m a senior in College Algebra…

I wait for everyone else to leave the room before I get up from my desk. I’m dreading this conversation.

“Miss Miller, I have to say, I don’t have high hopes for your first exam next week. You have failed two out of three pop quizzes. It would be all five, but the first quiz consisted of your name and you stating where you are in your understanding of math. Everyone passed that one.” He looks at me over the rim of his glasses, which slowly slid down his nose during the class period.

“If you continue down this path, you will not pass this class.”

“I know… I’m trying…”

“Clearly, your trying isn’t enough. You’re a senior, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d hate to be the reason you don’t graduate.” His words are kind, but his tone tells another story.

This man, for whatever reason, hates me. But he’s right. If I don’t start getting better grades, I won’t pass this class. I have to have a math credit to graduate, and College Algebra is the easiest math I can take.

“I’ll figure something out, sir. Maybe I'll talk to my advisor.” I slowly start backing away from his desk, ready to be done with this depressing conversation.

“See that you do. I’d hate to see you back here next semester.”

Don’t worry. I’d hate that too… is what I want to say. Instead, I give him a tight smile as I turn and rush out of the room.

I head toward my advisor’s office. I’ve run out of ideas, and I have to figure out a way to pass this class. So far, everything I’ve tried on my own has been useless. I've tried different study methods, like quizzing with my roommate, borrowing notes, and watching lectures and videos. But nothing is working. I’ve really been trying to avoid my advisor; I know what she’s going to say.

* * *

“You really shouldn’t have waited until your senior year to take a class you know you’re going to have trouble with.” Dr. Herrington sighs as she leans back in her office chair.

I’ve just finished telling her about the conversation I just had with Professor Drivels and while I feel less depressed in Dr. Herrington’s presence, I feel like I’m being scolded by my grandmother for doing something silly.

“I know… I just really hate math,” I mumble, crossing my arms and looking anywhere but at my advisor.

“All the more reason to take it when you start. That way, it’s out of the way. Now you’ve been here for three years, and any math you learned in high school is basically useless.” She pauses, and I lift my head slightly, catching her eye. “Am I wrong?”

I sigh “No.”

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