Note on the Title
The second symbol in the title is an “epsilon.” It sounds Greek. It sounds geek! It’s both. I first encountered this symbol in a Paul Erdős biography, because he used to refer to children as “epsilons.” Cute. Epsilons are positive infinitesimal quantities. What is an infinitesimal quantity? It’s a quantity smaller than any other real quantity but not zero. The metaphorical significance of this will make more sense at the end, I hope. Thank you for joining me on this journey.
“And it’s my whole heart
Weighted and measured inside
And it’s an old scar
Trying to bleach it out”
- “Which Witch” by Florence and the Machine
This is one of my favorite songs. I listened to it on my endless Spotify shuffle around a week after my first article in the series was published, and I knew then this had to be the intro for my last article.
It is an “old scar” that pulls me back. It certainly feels like “my whole heart,” because I put my everything (mental health, physical health, and friendships) into studying and my schoolwork, which is something I’m trying to grow out of, to no longer define myself by letters and numbers that I’ll forget (hopefully) soon. There’s a lot of pain when Florence Welch sings this lyric, and there’s a strong sense of lingering in her tone that makes this verse apt to rip the bandage off and think “I can do this.”
I am trying to convert epsilons, or the infinitesimal, into infinities, the alchemy of turning near nothing into fuel that will push me through my entire life. Now, I think alchemy is not a legitimate science (anymore, that is!), and I’m not far enough in my math knowledge to know the full relationship of epsilons to infinities, but I know this isn’t easy.
What is this “epsilon” I’m even talking about? As defined in my note on the title (go read it if you haven’t!), it is the smallest possible quantity that’s not zero, and that’s where my confidence level has been for a while. How do I make it infinite to sustain me for college, and maybe grad school (BIG MAYBE) and my career?
The Journey of Increase
I’ve spent approximately four hours speaking to the wonderful math faculty about their journeys, and my last article consisted of the best advice they’d given me. Now it is my turn. This is now my advice on turning confidence epsilons into confidence infinities.
First, surround yourself with people that you want to be like, but do it in a way that makes them role models, not competitors. I’m a competitive person, I’ll grudgingly admit (beat me at Connect 4, I dare you!), but there’s something about having the support and the advice of people who are way better than you that’s actually encouraging.
This can be your professors, older students, or just anyone who makes you stop and think: what an amazing person; how can I get to know them? After every single interview I had with the women professors of STEM at Swat, I felt so heartened and encouraged that I would call my father and talk to him about how wonderful it was. Fundamentally, what this task requires is to realize that there is something to learn from everybody and that it’s better to learn together than to oppose one another as competitors. The trap in this is that one may, when surrounded by wonderful people, ask oneself why one isn’t more like them. I’ve done this quite a bit.
A solution? One can say, if I am worse than someone else, I can get better. Hold the critical aspect while maintaining an optimism that if one works towards it, things will get better. It is alright to acknowledge that where one is is not where one wants to be. How can one move in this world without knowing one’s position? An understanding, a deep, visceral, often disappointing and uncomfortable, realization of the state one is in is necessary to move forward.
Second, for math, work towards a true understanding of the content. I took calculus in 11th grade, going through the motions, plugging in stuff, chugging along, without realizing, wow, this is cool. Plug and chug only gets one so far. Here’s the thing about taking time to digest math: it’ll give a better picture of how the math works. Liberal arts colleges don’t teach you what to think; they teach you how to think (quite an original saying of mine, I believe!), and with math, it is so important to understand deeply, not superficially.
Understanding math superficially is like playing paint by numbers and never lifting your head to see the whole painting. Understanding math deeply isn’t even paint by numbers, it provides you the tools to paint whatever. Yeah, the first paintings are probably not going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That’s alright.
Life should not be quantified by awards, accomplishments, and success. Life should be quantified by sums of things that bring meaning and purpose, because making someone else’s life better, at the expense of one’s own or not, is how communities and connection form.
I’m on this journey of converting my confidence into an infinite level, and writing this series was a big addition to understanding myself and my future in math. There are other ideas that have helped me crawl my way into feeling better, but I don’t think I have a tall enough soapbox to proselytize even more. I have few answers, and the ones I have are probably not the best for everyone, since what worked for me may not work for everyone. But hold that epsilon, don’t let it slip through your fingers, and nurture it to sprout into something bigger.
It is a stroll in the universe, one worth taking, to find and touch the edges of infinity.
The opinions expressed in this article are solely the author’s and do not reflect the views of The Phoenix Editorial Board.
