The Math Geeks

I realize that I alluded to our infamous math study sessions, but I never wrote about them. As I've mentioned before, Karleen and I were math majors. We had our last semester of coursework in the fall, and we did our student teaching in the spring. (At Artesia High, hence the link on the side) We had this particularly scary class called "Analysis: with an introduction to proof". It was an upper division math class that we only partly understood. So, Thursday nights would usually find us either catching up on homework, which was due Friday, or studying for a test, which were on Fridays. Also, Beverly Hills 90210 was on that night, so there was no use in going out, because we HAD to watch that. Although we did sometimes venture out to DQ, only fifteen minutes before the show, to make a run for some blizzards. Scary car rides, those were. Three twenty-one year olds crammed in the front seat of a large large car, taking the corners way too fast and laughing all the way. But I digress.

So Karleen and I would take over the kitchen table, and we'd invite Bill Born over to study with us. Why do I remember we made jello one night? I don't know, but we did. Must have study food, you know. We'd force poor Bill to stop working and watch our show with us, and then we'd be all seriousness. I'm sure that math this scary sent our poor roommates into the bedrooms to hide, but I don't really remember. I know they were there for the show, and for the food, and to occasionaly look over our shoulders and pity us. It was pretty sad. So we would work, we'd make notes, we'd explain stuff to each other, we'd quiz each other. Then, somewhere around 11:00 pm, I'd start to figure out how low my test score could be and still make a B in the class. This would make everyone really mad, but I knew this about me: I will do better with more sleep and less studying than the other way around. I just do. So I'd make my apologies about being a lightweight, and Bill and Karleen would work into the wee hours of the night. I'd go back to the bedroom and climb into my very uncomfortable hide-away single bed (it was pretty cool - a hide-a-bed chair - but it was open to the bed that entire year, never closed to the chair) and the loud green fan would lull me to sleep.

Countless?

Countless stories? Probably, but it seems we can't remember all of them.