Reflective Essay: My AP Calculus Classroom
A piece of paper stained with salted tears, a mechanical pencil shaking frantically in a clenched fist, eraser shavings forming unidentifiable constellations on the sleek wooden desk - the devil in disguise, root of all evil: this was advanced placement calculus.
Since the beginning of my AP Calculus class, I knew that problems were bound to arise as I found myself not being able to understand what others perceived as “kindergarten math”. Problems I normally answered with utmost confidence converted into an internal conflict of increasing self-doubt and confusion. My eyes became geysers gushing out gallons of tears. Numbers rearranged itself in an ineligible fashion, a foreign language. It was as if every aspect of the universe integrated
Since the beginning of my AP Calculus class, I knew that problems were bound to arise as I found myself not being able to understand what others perceived as “kindergarten math”. Problems I normally answered with utmost confidence converted into an internal conflict of increasing self-doubt and confusion. My eyes became geysers gushing out gallons of tears. Numbers rearranged itself in an ineligible fashion, a foreign language. It was as if every aspect of the universe integrated