According to Tobias, S. “Math Anxiety” is defined as feelings of tension and anxiety that interfere with the manipulation of numbers and the solving of mathematical problems in a wide variety of ordinary life and academic situations. Math anxiety can cause one to forget and lose one’s self-confidence. Mathematics is the dread of the ordinary Filipino. It is irrefutable that we Filipinos would come up with the most hilarious and even obscure excuses just to be able to get our hands off Mathematics. That was not the case with me, until I entered the university.
I was in fourth year high school when I became the president of the campus’ Math Club. Most of my club members would come to me saying, “How in hell are you able to enjoy math? It’s so hard!” I give them a smirk and say, “It’s not hard, you just think it’s hard, that is why you’re here complaining.” I wasn’t the kind of student who would go on the whole day complaining on how hard the math final exam was. You would never hear nor see me making paroxysms after an exam. I was the high school student who smiled and enjoyed the smell of whiteboard markers as they continued to dance with the numbers on the board. It felt like heaven when the teacher discussed the Pythagorean Theorem and theories on Combinatorics. My mind was filled with glee and my eyes would smile every time my teachers handed down these gray coloured papers marked with scores that had a ninety something percent on them. There were fortunate times when I aced an exam, 100% and a smiley face drawn all over the front page. My blood gushed and all the tension inside my head disappeared every time I saw those papers. I felt alive, and the papers gave me the purest sample of oxygen one could think of.
I still remember when I was in high school; I used to teach a lot of my classmates. They’d come to me after class asking for help on the class homework. I didn’t really mind teaching them because my house was just a couple of blocks away and it would take me at most fifteen minutes to get back home. “A little pinch of altruism wouldn’t harm me,” I usually say to myself. I spent half an hour teaching them, and enjoying all their gasping and uh-huh’s as I continued to discuss Trigonometry and its friends, cosine and sine. In a way I felt superior, and humbled. I enjoyed seeing the faces of my classmates light up and feeling their minds being elucidated as I wrote numbers down their scratch papers. The environment was exhilarating. They continued to ask me questions, and I continued to answer back without even blinking. Most of my classmates would label me and my friends as the deities of the batch, and would more often than not approach us for help. I felt Math was the most auspicious way of looking at things because it gave such joy. It became my second language after English.
“Nothing in the world is permanent,” that ubiquitous phrase never got the good of me back in high school. I always thought everything was meant to be this way, and I will forever be superior to most students. The day that changed my personality and my perception of Math started with a bright sunny day in June 2007. It was officially my first day in the University of the Philippines. It was enrolment day! I was so excited. My face was calm and filled with zeal unmindful of the turmoil that is to come. The sun was shining brightly and Melchor Hall was the refugee camp of the century. The scene was World War II all over again with all the tumult going on inside and out of the college. Parents chattering, freshmen greeting one another, student assistants sharing pleasantries with each other, it was indeed World War II all over again. The smell of sweat from all the bodies working and moving saturated the air inside the college. It would be banal to say that the college was filled lines, instead I will say, the college was one big line itself. There was only one line for all the papers one will need on that day which made the waiting longer and the processes more chaotic. As a freshman, one is given the liberty to choose any physical education class during the enrolment. It was my turn to exploit this privilege. I took table tennis during noon, 12nn - 1pm, before my Math class. “Are you sure you want to take a PE class before math?” the assistant asked. “Sure, I can easily comprehend math anyway,” with the most pompous smile I answered the assistant in a condescending tone. The assistant seemed annoyed and simply answered, “Ok.” Perhaps he felt I was arrogant, so I struck a smile and gave him my thanks before I finished my paperwork. That day still haunts me today because it was the biggest mistake I ever made.
The Institute of Mathematics in the university had a different aura, and it even had a different set of chairs. I still remember the emerald chairs that lie inside each classroom screaming, “Come and feel my pain.” With its slouchy design and smooth exterior, one would really feel the pain of falling asleep in the middle of Math class. The building played a melancholy tune that only enrolled UP students could hear. I saw the students inside the building with their stoic faces, completely devoid of all emotion, and paralysed hands, overworked with all the writing and practicing. It felt different from my sunny and daisy-filled high school; it was the realm of Hades with all the undead screeching and scratching numbers on papers with faces that illustrated the most ominous situations. One of my friends once joked, “People call this place hell.” With people staring blankly and the doom and gloom environment, indeed it was hell on earth.
12.45, the gymnasium clock rings and we are dismissed. I changed clothes for sanitary purposes. Me and my friend, Ida, ran down the hill situated below the gymnasium to catch a ride to the Math Building. We’d chat a little before we arrive at the building. Upon arriving at the destination, I heard the tune that the Math Building was playing. I saw flocks of people passing by me with the most miserable faces. Some would talk about how terrorizing their professors were. Some would talk about how hard their exams were. I was still confident at that time; in fact I even slept through half of my first Math class. Everything changed when I got nearly a passing grade on our first quiz about sets. Yes you heard it. The most basic concept of math, sets, and I got a nearly passing score. I still remember the first time I cried due to frustrating exam results. It struck me like the arrow that hit Achilles’ heel. I felt weak, drained and inferior. I can hear everyone’s laughter inside my head when I got my first exam in calculus. The world toppled over and spilled all the mathematical juice I had when I was in high school. Officially it was Math Anxiety. I lost all the confidence I had in manipulating numbers. The moment I saw the integral sign was all the moment when my mathematical ability went into a coma. In a highly competitive university like UP, it was inevitable to have geniuses as classmates. It took me a whole year to accept that. The deity in me had to step down and live his whole college life as a common man, a mediocre achiever. I fell from grace and now, I’m the one making all the excuses to avoid math.
Math was my first love, even when I was in my early education program. I took the “Best in Math” award when I graduated from preschool. I was always called into the principal’s office, neither for detention nor expulsion, but for inter-school competitions and advancement programs. Never in my life did I imagine that such a day would come when all the stars in my sky would fall and hit me on the head, and Armageddon would come to haunt my slowly withering brain. I felt a syringe sucking my head dry of its neurons. It was painful, but I had to cope up with it and face the truth that I am no longer a deity. I am still thankful that most of my classmates are that patient with me when I ask for their help. I am also humbled that my professors would take time for consultation despite their busy schedules. The day had come when I gave the question “Do you love math?” a categorical N-O. My heart is now devoid of numbers. Though it clamours for more, it could barely take anymore in. I’ve lost myself completely, and now I constantly try to search for my centre. This is Math Anxiety.
Note: This was my final paper for my English 1 class,
I was in fourth year high school when I became the president of the campus’ Math Club. Most of my club members would come to me saying, “How in hell are you able to enjoy math? It’s so hard!” I give them a smirk and say, “It’s not hard, you just think it’s hard, that is why you’re here complaining.” I wasn’t the kind of student who would go on the whole day complaining on how hard the math final exam was. You would never hear nor see me making paroxysms after an exam. I was the high school student who smiled and enjoyed the smell of whiteboard markers as they continued to dance with the numbers on the board. It felt like heaven when the teacher discussed the Pythagorean Theorem and theories on Combinatorics. My mind was filled with glee and my eyes would smile every time my teachers handed down these gray coloured papers marked with scores that had a ninety something percent on them. There were fortunate times when I aced an exam, 100% and a smiley face drawn all over the front page. My blood gushed and all the tension inside my head disappeared every time I saw those papers. I felt alive, and the papers gave me the purest sample of oxygen one could think of.
I still remember when I was in high school; I used to teach a lot of my classmates. They’d come to me after class asking for help on the class homework. I didn’t really mind teaching them because my house was just a couple of blocks away and it would take me at most fifteen minutes to get back home. “A little pinch of altruism wouldn’t harm me,” I usually say to myself. I spent half an hour teaching them, and enjoying all their gasping and uh-huh’s as I continued to discuss Trigonometry and its friends, cosine and sine. In a way I felt superior, and humbled. I enjoyed seeing the faces of my classmates light up and feeling their minds being elucidated as I wrote numbers down their scratch papers. The environment was exhilarating. They continued to ask me questions, and I continued to answer back without even blinking. Most of my classmates would label me and my friends as the deities of the batch, and would more often than not approach us for help. I felt Math was the most auspicious way of looking at things because it gave such joy. It became my second language after English.
“Nothing in the world is permanent,” that ubiquitous phrase never got the good of me back in high school. I always thought everything was meant to be this way, and I will forever be superior to most students. The day that changed my personality and my perception of Math started with a bright sunny day in June 2007. It was officially my first day in the University of the Philippines. It was enrolment day! I was so excited. My face was calm and filled with zeal unmindful of the turmoil that is to come. The sun was shining brightly and Melchor Hall was the refugee camp of the century. The scene was World War II all over again with all the tumult going on inside and out of the college. Parents chattering, freshmen greeting one another, student assistants sharing pleasantries with each other, it was indeed World War II all over again. The smell of sweat from all the bodies working and moving saturated the air inside the college. It would be banal to say that the college was filled lines, instead I will say, the college was one big line itself. There was only one line for all the papers one will need on that day which made the waiting longer and the processes more chaotic. As a freshman, one is given the liberty to choose any physical education class during the enrolment. It was my turn to exploit this privilege. I took table tennis during noon, 12nn - 1pm, before my Math class. “Are you sure you want to take a PE class before math?” the assistant asked. “Sure, I can easily comprehend math anyway,” with the most pompous smile I answered the assistant in a condescending tone. The assistant seemed annoyed and simply answered, “Ok.” Perhaps he felt I was arrogant, so I struck a smile and gave him my thanks before I finished my paperwork. That day still haunts me today because it was the biggest mistake I ever made.
The Institute of Mathematics in the university had a different aura, and it even had a different set of chairs. I still remember the emerald chairs that lie inside each classroom screaming, “Come and feel my pain.” With its slouchy design and smooth exterior, one would really feel the pain of falling asleep in the middle of Math class. The building played a melancholy tune that only enrolled UP students could hear. I saw the students inside the building with their stoic faces, completely devoid of all emotion, and paralysed hands, overworked with all the writing and practicing. It felt different from my sunny and daisy-filled high school; it was the realm of Hades with all the undead screeching and scratching numbers on papers with faces that illustrated the most ominous situations. One of my friends once joked, “People call this place hell.” With people staring blankly and the doom and gloom environment, indeed it was hell on earth.
12.45, the gymnasium clock rings and we are dismissed. I changed clothes for sanitary purposes. Me and my friend, Ida, ran down the hill situated below the gymnasium to catch a ride to the Math Building. We’d chat a little before we arrive at the building. Upon arriving at the destination, I heard the tune that the Math Building was playing. I saw flocks of people passing by me with the most miserable faces. Some would talk about how terrorizing their professors were. Some would talk about how hard their exams were. I was still confident at that time; in fact I even slept through half of my first Math class. Everything changed when I got nearly a passing grade on our first quiz about sets. Yes you heard it. The most basic concept of math, sets, and I got a nearly passing score. I still remember the first time I cried due to frustrating exam results. It struck me like the arrow that hit Achilles’ heel. I felt weak, drained and inferior. I can hear everyone’s laughter inside my head when I got my first exam in calculus. The world toppled over and spilled all the mathematical juice I had when I was in high school. Officially it was Math Anxiety. I lost all the confidence I had in manipulating numbers. The moment I saw the integral sign was all the moment when my mathematical ability went into a coma. In a highly competitive university like UP, it was inevitable to have geniuses as classmates. It took me a whole year to accept that. The deity in me had to step down and live his whole college life as a common man, a mediocre achiever. I fell from grace and now, I’m the one making all the excuses to avoid math.
Math was my first love, even when I was in my early education program. I took the “Best in Math” award when I graduated from preschool. I was always called into the principal’s office, neither for detention nor expulsion, but for inter-school competitions and advancement programs. Never in my life did I imagine that such a day would come when all the stars in my sky would fall and hit me on the head, and Armageddon would come to haunt my slowly withering brain. I felt a syringe sucking my head dry of its neurons. It was painful, but I had to cope up with it and face the truth that I am no longer a deity. I am still thankful that most of my classmates are that patient with me when I ask for their help. I am also humbled that my professors would take time for consultation despite their busy schedules. The day had come when I gave the question “Do you love math?” a categorical N-O. My heart is now devoid of numbers. Though it clamours for more, it could barely take anymore in. I’ve lost myself completely, and now I constantly try to search for my centre. This is Math Anxiety.
Note: This was my final paper for my English 1 class,
