29 More Days (Slice #2 - Validation)

It exists!  My crazy, irrational fear of all things writing is real!  Well, at least it is real according to the world’s most infallible, trustworthy source, the World Wide Web.  In fact, not only is this phobia real, it has a name – “graphophobia!”  That sounds so very serious and yet is quite fun to say!  Graphophobia…GRAPH-O-PHO-BIA!!!  I must admit, I feel validated and relieved knowing I am not the only insane person in the world whose soul immediately collapses into the fetal position at the mere mention of a writing assignment.  In truth, only with this new knowledge and the incredible support I received today from my students and coworkers do I actually have the courage to sit here now and give this writing thing another try.

I wish I could blame it all on genetics.  Unfortunately, that would be a lie.  My mother was a third grade teacher who absolutely loved teaching reading and writing every day.  My father, a geologist, actually has his master’s degree in creative writing and even has published several novels.  It is not their fault. 

Here is the truth:  I once loved writing.  Yes, there, I said it.  If I am being honest with you and myself, I really did.  I wrote all kinds of poems and short stories, even practiced my cursive handwriting for fun.  But somewhere along the way, everything changed.  As I got older, I had to write for grades instead of just for pleasure.  I can remember spending hours at the computer, agonizing over selecting just the right word, structuring my sentences, proofreading over and over again until my eyes were red and full of tears.  Then, after I finally believed my paper was perfect, I turned it in only to receive more feedback, suggestions, and sometimes even criticism.  I recognize now that this is all a part of the writing process; however, I am a perfectionist.  The pain of discovering that all of my anguish was in vain felt as real as a knife in my heart. 

When I graduated from college, after having submitted my final paper, I promised myself I would never write again.  I had found my niche in the predictable, flawless safety of mathematics and lived there happily...until yesterday.

Only twenty-nine more days of suffering right?  As one commenter yesterday wrote, “At least there is pizza at the end!”

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And now, Miss Collins, please sharpen your pencil and your wit, then answer the following question:

*Which of the following is not necessarily true:

    a.)  x + y = y + x

    b.)  a · b = b · a

    c.)  a · (b + c) = (a · b) + c

    d.)  -a · (–b) = a · b