Elementary, my dear Algebra

I'm taking Elementary Algebra.  Again.

My first trip through CCC, I took Elementary Algebra and got a big fat A.  I was so proud.  That was ten years ago.

When I met with my advisor at the beginning of this current (and last!  I swear it will be the last!) try, she looked through my grades from before and said "You can go straight in to Intermediate Algebra, and when you're done with that, you'll be math-ready."  I was pretty sure she was crazy because I haven't done any algebra whatsoever in the intervening ten years, but she was the expert, so I said okay.

Then I got my textbook and leafed through it.  Upon looking at all the Intermediate Algebra stretched ahead of me, I felt panic like I have seldom felt panic before.  This panic was worse than the panic you feel when you have unexpected guests call and say "I'm fifteen minutes away, can I drop in?" and you look around and realize that you have dirty underwear hanging from the ceiling fans and ten days' worth of dirty dishes in the sink and only fifteen minutes to hide it all in a closet.  This was like snakes-in-the-belly panic.  I could have gone to school in my underwear and felt better about myself than I did the first day of Intermediate Algebra.

It was a Saturday morning class, and I got there early hoping to talk to the instructor.  When she came in, she was my age.  Or maybe a little younger.  More snakes in the belly.  I explained briefly my situation, and she told me, very kindly, that I could take the pretest if I wanted to, but she would recommend revisiting Elementary Algebra.  I agreed and fled that class faster than I have ever fled anything in my life.  I couldn't have run from a ticking time-bomb faster than I ran from that classroom.  I ran to my truck as if chased by rabid linear equations.

The following Monday, I went back to the advisor and very politely refrained from telling her that she was not very good at her job.  I told her what had happened and then proceeded to spend the following three hours getting Special Dispensation from the Pope to transfer to Elementary Algebra.  The only section still admitting students was one at 7:30am, but at least it was at a campus that was easy to get to, and, in fact, in the very room where my Introduction to Radio and Television class was held just a couple hours later.

The professor for this class also teaches Basic Math Skills.  Our homework and quizzes are completely online with examples and animations and help solving problems (except not on the quizzes).  This is exactly where I need to be.  Even better, after almost twenty years of not understanding slope, this amazing man and his newfangled machinery finally helped me figure it out.  My homework grades are fantastic, my quiz grades are fantastic, there are opportunities for extra points on tests.... it's good.  I'm not the dumbest person in the class.  My self-esteem is fantastic.

Then, I caught a stomach bug.  And not just any old stomach bug.  It came upon me with very little warning.  I bought a box of Girl Scout Cookies and before I could even open them, I was throwing up in the parking lot of my local convenience store, right in front of the intrepid Girl Scout who had sold me the cookies in the first place.  Sorry, Girl Scout.  I hope she didn't have nightmares.

That was on a Tuesday evening.  I managed to take the kids to the Book Fair, but their dad had to take them to Math and Science Night, while I laid in bed, periodically running to the bathroom and trying my hardest not to die.  It was a lot harder than it sounds.

This moment, however innocuous, was the first step in the Great Algebra Debacle of Last Week.