Peanut Butter and Jelly

I can distinctly recall late nights in elementary school, staying up well past my bed time, with arts and crafts, book report remnants or some project debris exploded on the kitchen table, working frantically between bellows of my mother upstairs and the ticking grandfather clock in the corner. What I’m saying is, I’ve been a procrastinator all my life. I have also known for the majority of my life that I am not what people would call a “math person.”  I panic at the sight of a bill, I dread the day I have to balance a checkbook and my life depends on my cell phone’s built in calculator.  This trepidation, on top of my professional procrastination has landed me in a pickle.

When I got to college my freshman year and found out that I had to take math courses AGAIN, after literally and figuratively tossing all pencils, protractors, rulers or any other math utensil, my head almost exploded. I took it in high school! My sweat poured over those pencil shavings! I struggled the whole way! Did that not count for anything? Apparently not. So, angrily and reluctantly I signed up for the required course in 2005. I went twice, failed two quizzes, and didn’t look back. At each meeting with my college advisor I was warned, “You’re missing math, this will prevent you from graduating, you’re missing math, this will prevent you from graduating, you’re missing math….” Etc etc etc. And at each meeting I would tell my advisor, “I’ll take it next semester, I’ll take it next semester, I’ll take it next semester.” Next semesters came and went, it’s past graduation, and instead of traveling, as intended, I’m stuck taking math…

I think there’s a lesson in here somewhere.