Lesson 5 Problem Set: Fill & Download for Free

Every little thing in school takes soOooooOOOOOOoo long.Out of each 50 minute class period, maybe 10–20 minutes were actual new instruction. The rest? Well:5 minutes to settle the class down10 minutes to review or relate the new lesson to things we already learned10–20 minutes to practice the lesson5–10 minutes to answer everyone’s questions about it5–10 minutes to set out the homework for the night and announce upcoming tests and projects.I spent a lot of time consciously aware that I was waiting. Waiting for other people to do things or finish up, waiting for the next class to begin, waiting for help, waiting in line…Roughly an hour of my day in high school was spent just walking from one building to the other. I added it up.School schedules are just incredibly inconvenient when you’re accustomed to working at your own pace.I didn’t need 50 minutes to learn a science concept. I often needed more than 50 minutes to learn a math concept.My normal morning as a homeschooler aged 8–13 was:10 minutes of history: read several pages of the textbook or a biography, and then mentally answer the questions at the end of the section.5 minutes of reading comprehension and vocabulary: usually this was a short story or poem which I was timed to read, followed by a short self-test quiz.5 minutes of science: again, read a section from the textbook, mentally answer the reading comprehension questions. If the section ended in an experiment (which it did roughly once a week), I’d then perform the experiment.10 minutes to an hour of mathematics: usually about two pages of explanation and then a page of practice problems. If the math lesson was difficult or I didn’t understand it right away, I’d spend as long as it took working through the problem with my mom.1 hour to… well, possibly up to 6 hours of free reading. On days when I had new books or visited the library, I usually read until the books were finished— one after the other.That’s about 30–90 minutes of directed learning time, and well over an hour of undirected learning. The rest of the day was used for a variety of social, athletic, and family activities. Occasionally, I took a once-weekly class with my homeschooling co-op, but those were mostly just enrichment or elective subjects— 6 weeks of chemistry experiments. 8 weeks of music fundamentals. That sort of thing.That was how I was homeschooled until 9th grade, when I was sent to a private religious high school.If you’re wondering if I got confused by lockers, homerooms, late bells, roll call, homework, standardized testing… well, yes. I felt like an alien being introduced to human customs. But ultimately, it was just a new list of rules to learn. Once I figured out a rule, I was fine. I adapted just like you’d assimilate at a new job or living in a new city— eventually, it just comes naturally and you fit in visually and behaviorally.The hardest part (the part that never really got easier) was getting used to a normal school schedule and workload when I knew how unnecessary it all was.

Go online to find an introductory lesson on what you believe you should be learning.Learn it yourself, and do several problem sets, showing your work, in pencil.Print up problem sets that you could do, but don’t do them.Take the work you’ve done, along with the problem sets you have not done, and bring them to show everyone who might be able to help you, one by one.Your parent(s), your geometry teacher, your school counselor, the head of your school math department, the teacher of the class you believe you ought to be in.Show them the work you’ve figured out on your own. Show them the new problem sets, and offer to work through any of them in front of them, to show that you actually can, and did not just copy the answers.In other words, approach this like you are proving your case in court, and the authorities in your life who can change your class schedule, are the judges.Some of them will not be interested in looking at your proof. That’s life. At least make a photocopy, put it in an envelope with a note specifying which class you are requesting to be moved to, and leave the envelope with the ones who won’t take the time to sit with you.Also, give one of those envelopes with your proof and your request (written in the most polite, not irritated, style you can manage) with your school principal.Basically, over the course of one day, you ought to be able to teach yourself the most basic parts of the mathematics course you wish to be in, and by the next day you ought to be able to have generated problem sets (found online) and worked through a page of them, and printed off a fresh set.Then, over the following week, you ought to be able to make up at least five copies of your work, the problem set, and your written request to be moved to a the specific math course you want, and ask for appointments with each person you need to speak with. By the end of the week, you should have been able to either meet with each of those people, or leave your “packet” with each of them.The following week, you leave a message for each of the authorities who got your packet at school, asking for a response. And you remind your parents that you still need help with this goal of changing math courses.If you spread your request in a professional manner (befitting an adult, but offered by a student) they will not all be able to ignore your request.Will they move you? They might.When I was 17 I had completed high school, except for a single history class (civics). I wanted to take that civics class at the high school, but the rule was the school would only make a schedule with at least five courses on it. They told me to take the course at the local community college (10 miles away). I asked my counselor, he said there was nothing he could do.I asked him, “If there is nothing you can do, who might be able to?” He told me to try the director of the counseling office. She was useless. But I asked her, and she said there was nothing she could do. I asked her who was above her, that might be able to help me. She was annoyed, but sent me to the vice principal.The vice principal was not able to help me, and I asked again, who was above him, who might be able to help, and he sent me to the principal. Who was not able to help me, and sent me to the dean of students.The dean and I got along well, as it turns out. And he was the top of the food chain on campus. I sat across from him at his big desk, and made my request to be able to take this one civics class, and not five.He reached into his desk, pulled out a slip of paper—some kind of form—and wrote on it. Then he turned it around, and pushed it across the desk to my side.It was a class schedule form. The kind I had been told MUST have five courses on it.It had five courses. They were:HomestudyHomestudyHomestudyHomestudyCivicsThat easy. It seems the computer program simply was not capable of processing a class schedule for a student without at least five courses on it. But “Homestudy” was a “real” course, at least as far as the computer was concerned. There was no “credit” for this course, no teacher, not description. It was simply a “work-around” to make it so kids who didn’t need to have a full schedule could get what they dd need.That year was the first year of that computer program (early 1980’s). The other people I had spoken to simply didn’t know the details of how it worked.Until I found an administrator—an authority at my school—who could change my schedule for me, I felt like I was never going to get what I needed.It was the most important lesson I think I learned in high school! The lesson is, if what you are asking for can be done, do not assume the answer “no” is the final answer, but keep going up the food chain until you can find someone who can help you.As it was, I did this a few days before school began, everyone was in their offices, but no other students were on campus, and I just walked office to office, making no appointments, and with nothing in my hands to prove my case.Your situation is different. You cannot prove that you belong in the other math course, without showing you can learn it. So, you need the paperwork I suggest above.If the geometry is honestly too easy, and you try everything else to get into the other class, but are unsuccessful, offer to take the final for the geometry course you are in, to prove that you already know the material. Do not offer to get a high score! Only offer to pass it.Then, if you pass it, request to do a self-study or online program of math during that class period. They may not be willing to put you ahead, but they should be willing to not force you to not learn.If, in the end, they will not allow you in to the other course, try to test out of the course you are in, and at least not have to sit in that classroom all year. Take something else, even if it is cooking, that you will enjoy, and doesn’t have much homework, and study math on your own.Never stop studying math, even if your school will not let you do it properly there.Math is a joy. Don’t let them take that away from you.It is also a kind of language, and if you don’t keep up practice, you will forget and fall behind. So you need to study it and use it, every single year.

Yes, and if you don’t find the PhD experience challenging, then you’re doing it wrong, in my opinion. There’s this famous quote by Greg LeMond, who’s one of the greatest cyclists of all time, and he says “It never gets easier, you just get faster”. The suffering involved is the same for an amateur racer and a professional. The only difference is that the latter can go faster.I would hope that the 175+ individual would pick a harder research problem than normal. That would provide adequate mental challenge, and set you up for a great career later on. There are fewer rewards for doing easy things. Even at work, I usually pick the hardest problems because I find it more interesting, and it helps everyone on the team. It’s the responsible and respectful thing to do. Everyone should contribute to the best of their ability in order to have a healthy team or community.I think this is a broader life lesson—important things in life can be as easy or hard as you want to make it. Only the latter causes personal growth, an taking the easy path makes you complacent, lazy and stagnant. I admire individuals who take calculated risks to get out of their comfort zones and who use the opportunity for personal development.I have never had my IQ tested, but I have been described as being in top 1% of 1% of 1% by several eminent individuals. I also did my PhD at a top-10 engineering school, and it was extremely difficult. Easily the hardest thing I’ve done.Here’s an example of my first semester in graduate school, where it felt like I was drinking from a hose: Karan Mehta's answer to How was your first semester in graduate school? Did it go as planned?Quote about a graduate-level quantum mechanics class from the Physics department:I would spend 4–5 days in the week with the physics problem set, and maybe only solve 1–2 out of 4 problems. Sleeping in the library became a regular occurrence, and I occasionally drank coffee like water.It was brutal, chaotic, and I was completely out of my depth, at first. But I adapted, and overcame seemingly insurmountable problems (in my head). It gave me confidence and helped me grow. Sure, I could have taken easier classes or an easier field of research, but what’s the point? I’m trying to be the best in the world at something, so I’m less interested in the piece of paper in the end as I am in the process of developing mastery. The former will be given to me if I achieve the latter.In the second semester I joined a pure semiconductor theory group run by a professor considered a genius by other professors in the department. Very few people join his group because semiconductor physics and theory is hard and challenging. I was new to research in my second semester, and I would get so involved with it and would work all night, and then attend a graduate-level Solid-State Physics class the next morning. My notebook has pages with lines sloping to the top-right, and that was when I would fall asleep in class while writing. I was that tired, but otherwise determined. I never skipped class.I had to deal with constant criticism (constructive criticism, but one is not always in the frame of mind to receive it that way) on my slides, papers etc, and had to hone my perfectionist tendencies. The PhD experience taught me how to think and imparted a level of intellectual rigor to my thinking that I didn’t even know was possible before.If you ever do a PhD, I truly hope that it is challenging for you, regardless of your IQ. Otherwise it would be a waste.