Dear You,
Firstly apologies for not a-blogging over the past few days; I had exams etc., and I have two tomorrow, so if I fail, I'm blaming you and Once Upon a Time for disrupting my revision.
It's this revision that I'd like to talk to you about now. Tomorrow, as part of Maths, I have to take S1, or 'Statistics One', for those not in the know about the whimsical world of adding stuff up. Basically, since my last Maths exam on Monday, I have been trying and trying to remember as much as possible of means, modes, medians, and some Sxx thing I have no idea about.
What I want to know is this: HOW WILL THIS HELP E IN LATER LIFE? Can you imagine the scenario?
"Help! Help! This man is having a heart attack! Is there a statistician in the room?"
"Yes! Let me through! So I can tell you about the mean length of time he has to live!"
No, you can't. And this, my friend, is why I'm waving Maths a smug goodbye come September. Unfortunately, between now and then is a seething pit of four weeks of compulsory A2 Maths work. My friend realised the other day that one could just refuse to go; isn't a terrible attendance detrimental to a college's stats (oh Lord Jesus, they pop up everywhere)? So instead, why not just say I don't have to go? Bingo.
I'm so averse to Maths, I wrote a little poem- just call me Wordsworth:
'Statistics One, Statistics One,
I cannot wait 'til you are done.'
And, seeing as my other exam tomorrow is English Lit., I can tell you exactly how the poet is feeling. Through use of repetition in 'Statistics One', the reader is allowed an insight into the frustration of the persona and the exasperation felt when tackling such a subject as statistics.
What I actually meant was: thank bugger it's over in fifteen hours.
Yours maths-hatingly
M.
P.S. There's another Maths exam next Friday; Core 2. I've just flicked through the book and realised I know approximately nothing about any of it. Looking forward to that, then!
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