Sunflower on a gloriously foggy day, courtesy of my phone's camera
I got an A in my Elementary Statistics class.
That's right. An A.
I have tortured all of you, near and far, with my anxiety, depression, and hysteria (did I leave anything out? Those are kinda umbrella terms...) over my stats tests and my hypothesis (claim) that I shall fail grandly. (One friend was speechless upon hearing the actual, final grade; another just said, "Oh! I want to slap you!")
I had gotten good at challenging my irrational belief (a la Albert Ellis's Rational-Emotive-Behavioral Therapy, or REBT for short, which always makes me want to sing R-E-S-P-E-C-T) that having to take stats again should I fail would not be terrible, awful, and a catastrophe--merely an inconvenience.
And oh, I did not want that inconvenience.
Anyway, I passed, so ha-HA!!!
I deserve to be slapped. But first, I want to thank the teacher who supported and guided me through all the mathematical mayhem (at least in my mind): Jennifer Cass.
Her lectures, notes, humor, patience, and compassion seriously got me through the six weeks where I thought I was going to quit because too much was going on in my life--and not just quit the stats class. I felt everything was up for grabs.
So if you're going to take a math class at Cabrillo, try and get Jennifer. She'll stick by you if you stick by her, and you might even come out of her class liking math. She's the best (and probably last) math teacher I'll have, and that makes me both happy and sad. If I didn't have such a hard time with math, I'd probably delve into statistics further (it's really fascinating).
And no, she didn't pay me to say any of these nice things. Completely heartfelt! The truth is, I kept off saying anything about her until the class was done.
Taking Ethics and the Law as I was for my psych program, my awareness was heightened that I could be unduly pressuring or unconsciously attempting to bias her to treat me favorably (she would never do that in any case--you should have heard her rain down on cheaters and cheating!), so I waited until the class was finished and she gave me a grade before I wrote anything.
And yes, I would have written the same nice things had I not received a grade that satisfied my program. The relationship between my performance to her skills as a teacher is merely correlative, not causative. I only know that I did the best I could, and so did she, and I'm giving her props.
Now. Pick a number. Get in line for the slapping, although I'll accept a hearty high-five!