My Intro to Macroeconomics TA sighed as he said, “I know you all know this, but the professor told me to run through it anyways.” He went on to halfheartedly explain a seemingly simple process, skipping some steps, performing others with what looked very much like a hint of sarcasm.

Graphing a line. In his words, “sixth grade stuff.”

I had my notebook out.

I’m not a math guy. Never have been, probably never will be. I’m not especially handicapped in the subject but, simply put, it’s not my thing.

I’d probably rather read a textbook and complete an accompanying series of essays than do an hour’s work of, say, basic division.

I complain of course, such is my nature. For macro, friends say I should ask my TA for a bit of tutoring. My mom says I should take it as a challenge. But I’m too proud to ask for help, and, when faced with an obstacle, I usually look the other way and mutter under my breath. For any class involving the manipulation of numbers, this is my pattern.

Mathematics is simply too objective. For me, there are only two things in this world that have only one right answer: whom to cheer for when the Bills play and a math problem. Both of these absolutes cause me misery. But guess which I appreciate more?

I prefer the subjective, the malleable, that which is open for interpretation. In math class, every question has been answered before. Excellence in arithmetic, at least on the non-genius levels, is measured not by ingenuity but, instead, by how closely a student can replicate a predetermined process.

There’s something to be said for that, of course, but again, it’s not my thing. Maybe if I knew the groundwork, I could begin to understand the feeling I assume every engineering major enjoys upon the completion of a particularly stingy equation.

But I’ve never gotten my foot in the door. For me, paying attention in math class has always been impossible. The urge to doodle is simply too strong. Big sheets of paper, blank save for single lines of text separated by wide white expanses, and a pencil, the wandering mind’s foremost outlet, are all that’s required.

I don’t really have any idea where I’m going with this. I started writing because I have a macro problem set due and, as I said, complaining about math will forever be more fun than actually doing it.

This all comes into play, I suppose, in choosing a major. We number-impaired types are excluded, nay, discriminated against. Many interesting fields of study are off limits, and we are told things like, “Yes, you will need to be able to count to 10 without the help of your fingers for this course.” Blatant prejudice.

But my fellow math-in-actioners, do not be troubled! So what if that neuroscience-physics guy says you have a “joke major.” Maybe he will get into med school, have a painless job search and have two houses in 10 years. We, at least, can correct his grammar!

Onwards! To philosophy! To poli sci! To English! Fear not the scorn of the engineer or the pre-med drone! When they show you acceptance letters, brag of your internship at a local radio station. When they show you job offers, tell them that you’re taking a year or two off to “find your calling.”

And when they show you paychecks, remind them that you’ll be moving out of your parents’ basement next month, thank you very much.