The Love Of Math : My Love For Math

We started speeding down the road to meet the ambulance. Upon meeting them I was rushed to Wilcox Memorial Hospital, bumping my dad from the operating room right before he his knee surgery. I wasn't suspected to make it, as I had lost seventy percent of my blood. But somehow, with the help of God, I underwent several surgeries and within the next few days I was stabilized and discharged from the hospital.

The day Luther was supposed to come home was like the past two days: after the dismissal of school, I would go to cross country practice. Grandma would then pick me up and take me home. When I got in the car after practice, Grandma’s facial expression told me that something was wrong, causing the air to strip from my lungs, dropping my stomach to my toes. She informed me that Luther had been taken by ambulance to St. Mary’s in Rochester. Instead of going home, we drove to see him and Mom. The ride to Rochester was a slow blur. Trying to work on homework was useless as constant thoughts about Luther flowed into my mind. When we arrived at St. Mary’s, we went straight to the NICU, where Luther was admitted. Tears filled my eyes when I saw the many chords that were connected to his little body that led to machines that I had never seen before. Mom explained to us what was going on, but I still didn’t grasp the concept that, lying in that little bed, was my baby brother. As an older sister, I felt helpless, knowing that he was going through more pain then I could ever imagine. We stayed for a couple hours, then Grandma took us home. We continued to return to Rochester every day to visit Luther and Mom.

Five days had passed this time since anyone had heard from my mother. I remember praying to God to protect her from harm and for me to find her. The next day she showed up, but not in the way we had hoped. One morning as I was getting ready for school my sophomore year in high school, my phone rang to the voice of my stepfather. My stepfather had told me he heard a call come over the dispatch scanner at his work and my mother’s name was mentioned. The sheriff had informed my stepfather that my mother had been involved in an accident. My stepfather asked me to go to the emergency room and see what condition my mother was in because he lived a half hour away from the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital I found my mother cut out of her clothes, covered in her own urine, massive amounts of blood all over her body, and lying lifeless on life support on the table. At this point, no one knew whether my mother would be okay. My mother had bleeding on the brain as well as a tear in her shoulder, a shattered face, and a chest tube draining fluid from her lung which had collapsed. All I could do was pray! My mother’s life was in God’s hands now. Three days later she woke

You never know when something might happen. An ordinary day can turn into a tragedy. November 8, 2016, was that kind of day. My dad was deer hunting so that afternoon it was just me and my mom.I was getting ready for gymnastics practice when my mom got a call. The caller ID read “Community Memorial”. I could hear the fear in my mom's voice as she picked up the phone. “H-hello?” she said. I waited nervously as my mom spoke to the hospital. Five minutes later she hung up the phone. “Your dad fell 13 feet out of his tree stand while he was hunting. He called 9-1-1 and is at Community Memorial right now” my mom said. At that point I didn’t know how serious the injuries were. “Is he ok?” I asked.

If I were to ask any athlete what their favorite memory in their lifetime was, I am sure that most of their responses would include the sport that they play. While baseball and golf are both sports that I participated in throughout my whole life, nothing can compare to the brotherhood and bond that football brought to me. I played football as a small child. I enjoyed the short games and practices because I was able to goof off with my friends. I also began playing football during my sophomore year of high school but quit rather quickly. At this point in time baseball still had my heart and triumphed over football in every way possible. It was not until my senior year at Thomasville High School that I fell in love with the game of football. The team began six a.m. practices in early June. We spent over half of day running, lifting weights, sweating, and puking. There were times that I doubted myself and wanted to quit. The only thing that kept me going was the bond I was creating with my teammates. Football instilled hard work, care for my fellow teammates, and determination to finish everything that I had started in me. Football changed my life for the better.

To this date, it was the worst phone call of my life. I was informed my father and stepmother were in a motorcycle accident in Florida where they retired for the winter. My stepmother was expected to have a painful, long recovery, as she suffered from multiple fractures to her face, a dislocated jaw, and pelvis that was broken in 3 places, plus many small cuts and bruises. My father, however, had not awakened after the accident and we should get to the hospital in Florida as soon as possible. My brother, his wife, and I booked flights and we were on our way they next day. It was not how I expected to spend Easter. The next four days were a blur. We met with doctors and nurses and didn’t feel like we had any answers to the real condition of our father. We knew of his injuries but not what they meant to his future. He had bruising between the hemispheres of his brain, on the outside of the brain, bruising on his brainstem, and multiple open fractures on the left side of his body. I couldn’t get any of his doctors to tell me their opinion on his prognosis. They would only say, “we need another 48 hours”. The only thing I could think was, “if you knew my dad, he would hate this. You life flighted him, now he’s hook to machinery to breath, and all he would have wanted was to have the ambulance run him over and put him out of his misery”. We knew my father’s wishes and they didn’t look anything like

Remember going into second grade and fearing those one minute division tests? I remember very clearly how afraid and intimidated I was. I panicked because I was scared that I was not going to get a good grade on it. To my surprise, I did not get a high score on it compared to my classmates. I was devastated because I had tried really hard on it. After that, I hated math until seventh grade. Math was my worst subject, and I acknowledge I was terrible at it. I hated it so much that after years of hating it, I developed a passion for math. After some years of practicing math, I fell in love with it. Entering middle school, Algebra was introduced. I loved Algebra because I was not only adding numbers, I was solving for certain variables at the

I have always considered myself a mathematician; however, that did not keep this subject from being difficult. Math has a glorious way of growing you up. For me, it began in the first grade where I was introduced to the multiplication table; my instructor used to test us with mental exams and I remember enjoying it like I was playing a game and winning.

On a summer afternoon in July 2009, my husband and I were attending a graduation party for my brother Sebastien who successfully finished High School. During the egg race, Rod received a phone call from his parents that his sister and her three children were in a car accident. At first, we were told they were fine and that they were being taken to Denver Health to be evaluated and that we would get a call later regarding what had happened. That, however, didn’t sit well with me, knowing that Denver Health is a trauma facility and that they were in an accident, I told Rod we needed to go and he agreed. Walking into the hospital was almost like something out of a television show or movie, each girl was in her own room, each with different injuries and with a million

I have excelled in many of my classes. When I say "excel" I refer more to how these classes have changed me and in turn impacted my life. Each year I can see that I become a much better student. I have excelled mostly in the math, science and English subjects during my years in high school. But, I have mostly been drawn to do the need to succeed in the subject of math and therefore, succeeded the most in it.

I used to watch the news and hear about people involved in car wrecks every day. The thing is, I never could have imagined it could happen to me or worse, someone who meant a lot to me. My father, David Stewart on October 8th had been on the opposite end of a car accident with a drunk driver. I don't remember much about that tragic day. I do remember family members rushing into our house to comfort each other and not yet understanding why. Before the night had ended my older sister had gave me the news. I was only in the third grade, how was an eight year old expected to process news like that? That night I laid in my bed, wiping away endless tears of concern and confusion. I prayed countless times that night. With prayers of hope that my

Since elementary school, I have always found myself fully engaged in math classes. In third grade, I began to speed up my education by completing two courses in one year. I repeated this in fourth grade to get even further ahead of my classmates. Due to my passion for math, I continued to pursue the subject throughout middle school and ended up at the very top of my class in math upon graduation. I also continued along this path in high school and by my senior year I will have taken every math course that has ever been offered to me. I enjoy the subject because it fosters inventiveness and challenges me to find new ways to solve problems. Math has allowed me to think in a logical manner in all situations and is the reason for my success in

Finally, the nurse came and allowed us entrance to one of our worst nightmares. There the whole family stood with the understanding that they were taking the ventilator off and this could be the last time we would ever see this amazing woman. Each grandchild took their time getting one last hug and saying goodbye. I stood waiting my turn thinking how could I ever possibly whisper into words the gratitude and admiration I had for this wonderful woman. The whole room was on edge trying to be strong for each other. Eventually it was my Aunt Julia’s turn. As she stood there holding my grandmother’s hand crying saying, “Momma, it’s your little girl, please wake up, I know you can do it, you’re strong enough”. I thought my heart would explode. Then, as my dad, the strongest man I know, went over to pull her away from the bedside he began to sob as well. This was almost unbearable to witness without making a scene. I gazed out the window with a desire to be anywhere but in that horribly bleak room facing this unimaginable tragedy with my family that was full of life and laughter. When my Aunt Julia finally was composed once again and acknowledged once again that this was God’s will she said fo the last time, “It’s okay, I understand you are tired. I love you”. The whole room seemed to begin to spin and true mourning was awaken in my soul for this amazingly wonderful woman that held such a

Dating back to my early childhood; football at the time was my only love. I breathed, slept and ate football. It started off as just a friendly hobby around my neighborhood up until my tenth-birthday when I joined a little league football team. Over the years I continued to play, it got even more exciting for me when my friends from the neighborhood start joining the team as well. Things suddenly changed for me moving forward into my high school career. Although this was once a fun stress reliever it was becoming the only thing that stressed me out.

Life is unpredictable and an accident can happen anytime. on our way back home from church my dad was driving a black 2012 Toyota Highlander, which is a family car that seven people can ride in it. My younger brother, Taw Nay Gay, and I were sitting on the seat behind the driver seat by the door. My other two younger brothers, Gay Nay Soe and Soe K Maw, sat in the seat behind me, and my mom sat in the front passenger seat. For the first time a nineteen year old girl like me started to believe that I had a reason to live and my life could be taken away anytime. This happened on October first 2017, 7:30 pm when we got into a car accident by the traffic lights intersection. Three cars were damaged, but everyone in the cars were fine.