kimberkit: (Default)
The final exam was brutal, and I have never ever had to take a test that made me think so much, but physics is over. I am dwelling on my mistakes, as usual, but I think that I locked down enough of my grade beforehand that if I didn't fuck up too badly, I'll still have worked hard enough that I may get an A anyway. I hope I never have to take another class that is so non-intuitive for me, and I certainly will never be good at physics, but the side of me that is interested in grades while applying for school for next year feels okay.

--

In other news, I looked up "John Dibartolo" (Polytechnic/NYU) on ratemyprofessors.com and he scored a 4.1 out of 5 in overall quality, which is a grade I'd probably say is on the low side -- this semester, he put in twice as much work as he had to, when the TA turned out to be useless. He did all the grading for homework twice a week, plus taking all the questions that should have gone to her, and he held an extra review session that I'm sure he wasn't being paid for.

... Then I looked up some of my Williams professors. They earned an average rating of 3 out of five. I paused to consider that, and realized that that rating is probably fair -- they did far less work than this one underpaid physics professor (a subject I don't even like) did this summer, and they were less good about office hours than he was.

Oy. I feel cheated out of my $200,000 education.

ETA: Yes, yes, I know that Williams also furnished me with some amazingly smart friends and my brilliant, wonderful husband (and that if I'd been a different person, it also would have been some networking for X job). It provided me with fun and time to grow up a lot. But it is a wee bit depressing to realize an NYU guy is just flat out better than most of the professors I took classes with, making the education part of my education a little less shiny.
kimberkit: (Default)
So because my last post was whingy, lots of positive stuff here!

I had a client call and tell me that I'd fixed her knee and ankle (she had been terrified she wouldn't be able to walk anymore), and she was really happy! Positive feedback is nice. Also, I straightened Neil's toes so that his foot didn't hurt him anymore.

Neil: I feel guilty when I take advantage of you being a massage therapist, but this foot's been really bugging me...
Me: Hah. Yesterday, when I said that I felt guilty over making you help me with physics, you said, "If everyone else in the class had me to help them, don't you think they'd use that extra resource?"
Neil: That's different!
Me: It's not, but anyway, I'm happy to do it.
Neil: Okay.

I finished my lab today a little early, which is unusual, but I prepped the hell out of it yesterday, and I feel really good about the payoff.

Also, my lab partner for Physics thinks my self-mocking commentary is amusing.

Erin, after she accidentally kicked my chair: Whoops, sorry, didn't mean to bump you there.
Me: That's okay -- physics makes me rock back and forth like an autistic gerbil anyway.
Erin: *starts cracking up*
Me: No, really, I mean it. Look at me twitching!

(She didn't seem to realize it actually does make me twitch. Maybe that means I'm hiding it better than I think.)
kimberkit: (Default)
Physics today was incredibly frustrating, because we have gone beyond simple stuff like just adding vectors to figuring out tilting our x/y axis in order to solve funky-angled problems, and I'm just poor at that sort of thing. So we came out of lecture, went to recitation (the TA session) and asked the TA, and she said, "It's just Newton's third law" and proceeded to point at a drawing and repeat that it was Newton's third law (without explaining which forces were in action or reiterating what we were looking for). I left the class ready to go punch someone, and the rest of the class looked ready to cry.

I walked towards thus bus and thought, "What will leave me de-stressed and not wanting to punch someone? I know, I'll knit."

I pulled out the second sock I've been working on and worked for another few inches... and discovered that the bottom of the foot, which should be smooth, was ribbed for some reason.

I stared at my sock. It stared at me.

I checked to make sure it was still ribbed. It was.

I have 8 inches of sock to rip out. Recognizing this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I came home, ate a sandwich, and squished my cat so tightly she struggled. Then I punched a pillow. Then I thought about the vector of force from my fist to the pillow and tried to figure out the total force in the system. I got an instant headache.

Maybe something that's not knitting would be a better outlet for my stress.

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kimberkit

March 2012

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