That's what you get for being Greek, Archimedes

Yesterday during my analysis class, Dr. Heal taught us more about how to prove a limit exists. This powerful, fundamental proof is based on the Archimedean principle, which he illustrated on the white board. In fact, he wrote out the word “Archimedean” at one point, but he paused when he realized he wasn’t quite confident in his spelling.

DR. HEAL: (facing the white board) Is it an “i” or an “e”?

SOMEONE: It’s an “i”.

I could only see the second half of “Archimedean” because of where I was sitting, so I thought he was asking about the “e” at the end of “Archimedean”.

ME: No, it’s an “e”. Archimedes, Archimedean. It’s an “e”.

Dr. Heal paused again and looked at what he wrote. He still faced the white board.

DR. HEAL: No it isn’t, it’s an “i”. Whoever said that, you’re forgiven.

ME: (under my breath, but still rather audibly) You’re forgiven.

DR. HEAL: Who said that? (turns around and looks at me) Was that Tyler? (laughs)

He was obviously talking about the one and only “i” in “Archimedean”, so I misunderstood the question. But I guess I just feel comfortable in his class. I’m glad Dr. Heal could laugh about it.

Wednesday, Friday, happy days

Yesterday was the first day of school after spring break. During my analysis class, Dr. Heal asked if there were any questions on the homework due Wednesday. Of course, no one worked on the homework during spring break—and I think he declared something to that effect because he knew it must be true. No one said anything. After a moment of silence...

DR. HEAL: Okay, well let’s talk more about sequences then.

(more silence as he readies his lecture notes)

ME: I have a question about the homework, actually.

DR. HEAL: Okay.

ME: Can we turn it in Friday so we can ask questions about it on Wednesday?

DR. HEAL: Well, Tyler, I don’t know.

He considered it for a moment...and went with it! I was very happy about this, as were my classmates (as you can imagine). The great thing about Dr. Heal though is that he’s always flexible and willing to help his students. This is just one example I happened to contribute to.

Year two, day one

I don’t know if I walked a full block after stepping out the door this morning before I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. I’m learning for myself that, in reality, any climate that drops below 0 degrees—like, say, this morning’s -5 degrees—should be deemed uninhabitable.

My 7:30 am class requires me to be out by 6:40 to catch the bus to the transit center. If I miss that bus, it’s another 15 minutes walking time to the transit center, and in this weather that’s almost certain death. From the transit center, I catch a bus to campus.

Dr. Benjamin Blau, my corporate finance professor, is a great person to have around at 7:30 am if you want to be awake. He is enthusiastic, energetic, and animated. He jokes about life; talks about making “boatloads” of money; and, like all good professors, doesn’t care which edition of the textbook you use so long as you follow along with his lectures and get the ideas down.

My 10:30 am class with Dr. Robert Heal will likely be my biggest challenge this semester. It’s analysis, and in math terms that means theorems and proofs. In Dr. Heal’s words, it’s our transition from the math we’ve been doing all our lives to the world of advanced math. The course didn’t always exist, and so the bridge wasn’t always there, but he’s confident it’s important. Frankly, it seems like my kind of thing, very interesting stuff, but I do worry about being able to do math in a way with which I am unfamiliar. When I talked to McKay briefly tonight, he offered his helped. He said, “Ah, that’s my world. Well, maybe linear algebra is my world, but I’ve taken about six classes in analysis, so I can help you if you need it.” Dr. Heal seems like a wonderful man and professor so far.

When I walked into my last class at 1:00 pm—algebraic structures with Dr. Jim Cangelosi—I immediately found a name plate ready for me (a big index card folded in half long-ways) and saw that all seated students already had theirs out in front of them. His way of getting to know us quickly?

Jim might be best described after the first day as a dry eccentric, and he’d likely agree with me on that. He’s witty, fun, and easily likable. The sign above the door when we walked in today read something like: “CAUTION: You are now entering a LITERAL communications zone.” For most of the class, he explained how we need to speak literally in this class because we deal with mathematics. As an example, he said, “What if I said, ‘Rachel is one of my best friends’? What’s wrong with that statement?” There was a pause until one of the girls at the front said, “She can’t be one of your best friends because best implies there’s only one.” And that’s the kind of literal he’s talking about.

I was the last person out the door when class ended. I turned around to ask one more question.

ME: Jim! So there's no textbook?

JIM: No. Well there's a textbook, but there isn't a textbook for this class.

He smiled.