Self Discoveries: It All Adds Up

Math. It is the bane of my existence. Well, that and buttonholes. Have you ever tried to make a buttonhole? I mean seriously, who thought buttons were a good idea in the first place? We should just replace all buttons with velcro, zippers, and safety pins. Punk is in, right? Or is out, but is so out it's kind of in? Maybe? Whatever, if we all do it then we'll start a fashion movement and everyone everywhere will thank us because they'll never have to go through the hell that is making a buttonhole.

Or maybe it's just me. But I'll thank you. I really will.

Anyway, math. I hate it, and it has led me to believe it hates me back.

In school, I generally coasted through all my subjects. I wasn't particularly concerned about my grades getting me into college. I realized I could get a B grade in English without even reading the book, and then I still managed to get my butt into advanced placement English. I didn't have to study intensely for science or history because process of elimination was my bestie. It felt like half of it was common sense. I wasn't that great at Spanish, but my teacher always commented on how good my accent was, and that language romanced me with it's cognates. The only subject I ever flailed around pathetically in was math.

I was always in the lowest placement math courses. I hated math, so I didn't really mind - it was like they were rewarding me by putting me in the easiest and least challenging courses! It was math cake! That is, until I, you know, had to advance to the next hardest level against my will. I was like a fat child gorging themselves on their math cake. Right as my fork, piled high with another sweet and simple bite, was poised in front the dark, damp opening of my cavernous mouth, awaiting the swift decent into oblivion and stomach acid, they yanked it out of my hands, not even leaving so much as a crumb behind. And in it's wake? Geometry. In it's long black robes, scythe in one hand and a protractor in the other.

I was doomed.

I only barely passed that class. I had never studied that hard and haven't ever since. I had to fight for my grade, like it was a vile, venomous-snake haired gorgon, with a gaze of stone. I chopped that nasties head clean off! I Perseused her beetch ass, then rode...er, flew off into the sunset on my trusty steed, Pegasus! Victory was mine. And by that I mean, I didn't fail the class. Sweet, sweet victory!

Then it was about time for the SATs. In case anyone stumbles upon this blog and doesn't know what they are:

The SAT Reasoning Test (formerly Scholastic Aptitude Test and Scholastic Assessment Test, pronounced as three separate letters) is a standardized test for college admissions in the United States.

So, basically, to get into college, I had to take this 3-4 hour exam and not eff it up royally. At the time, it was scored out of 1600, and there were two sections: Verbal and Mathematics. You could take the test multiple times and choose you best score for each section to send off to colleges.

I took this abomination of a standardized test twice. I was happy with my English score the first time around, but my math score was abysmal. I studied my booty off and retook the exam. Several weeks went by and I got round two of my scores.

My English was lower than it had been the first time, but, as I was pleased with my previous score, I hadn't put in much effort, instead saving all my brain juices for the math portion.

My math score was exactly the same. It hadn't changed even one point. All that studying, paying almost $100 for both tests, wasting nearly 5 hours of my life taking both exams, only to learn I have hit my brain capacity for math.

I was disappointed, to say the least. I still don't think it's right that we have to pay for thins stinkin' test when it's pretty much a requirement to apply for college, but that's really beside the point. I cannot learn any more math than I already know. I have accepted it. It's not like I enjoyed math anyway, and now that cellphones have calculators and even tip calculators on them I never need waste nary a brain cell on the tedious and unfortunate task again.

But guess what? My cousin's girlfriend told me that she has a math learning disability. It's a real thing!

So I did some research. Math learning disabilities are actually just as prevalent as reading disabilities, but aren't actually given much heed.

Here are some symptoms of "Dyscalculia" courtesy of Wikipedia (italics mine):

• Difficulty with everyday tasks like checking change and reading analog clocks (I will give you the wrong time, always.)
• Particularly problems with differentiating between left and right. (Totally me. When driving, I have to be given directions such as "Driver's side turn," and "Passenger's side turn!" No I am not kidding.)
• Might do exceptionally well in a writing related field- many authors and journalists have this disorder (Uhm, well...I blog?)
• Having particular difficulty mentally estimating the measurement of an object or distance (e.g., whether something is 10 or 20 feet (3 or 6 metres) away). (I suck at this!!)
• Often unable to grasp and remember mathematical concepts, rules, formulae, and sequences.
• Difficulty with games such as poker with more flexible rules for scoring.
• Difficulty in activities requiring sequential processing, from the physical (such as dance steps or sports) to the abstract (signaling things in the right order). (I don't do sports. The ball, disk, puck, instrument of torture always seems to find it's way full speed into my face.)

Guys! I think I have a mental disability! This is great news!

And really, explains so, so much.