There is something kind of comforting, or maybe liberating, about spending a day at school talking about literature in terms of symbols and metaphors and language until my head is spinning and then going to work and spending the evening just talking about math, where (at the level of math that I teach) there is always just one right answer. Maybe it’s because I know what I’m doing, even though I haven’t taken an actual math class in years.
I do love what I do, and I’ve always considered myself a right-brained person. An artist. But now that I’m out of high school and math has finally clicked for me, there is just something about it that will always be sexy to me, and I wish I could do more with it in every day life. If I had my undergrad to do all over again I think I would add a math minor so that I could actually teach it in the classroom someday, just to contrast all of the reading and writing I do.
But I can’t go back in time, so I might as well savor the little time in math I get at work each week.