The Signs of Math

Calculus is just one of those subjects I get. I see intergrals, derivatives, limits and the like, and I'm calmed by the secrecy of numbers. They add, divide, multiply, and subtract in perfect, magical formulations for an answer. But, the math department at Emory fails to keep my interest. The faculty disposed of me once I revealed my interest in medicine. What is it with professors? Just because I want to be a doctor and not a mathematician, they feel that they have the right to ignore me?
The faculty has become less than impressive. I had one ninety something year old professor with one lung. He coughed proofs and theorems onto the board, the white chalk dust coagulating in his good lung. My current professor explains concepts using definitions rote from the book. Explaining the subject in any other logical sense would just be obtuse. The very few and very best math professors that I have been priveleged with have been visiting professors who are not even on faculty! The visiting professors are more keen on the imperfections of the math department and leave Emory quickly. If only they would stay long enough, the corroding portion of the department would whither away, and a strong breed of intellectuals and educators would arise.
But, I am too hopeful. I have to settle with the path of math. I have three courses until the completion of the major, and I would rather not think about choosing another major or finding ways to afford it. Frankly, I'll stick to statistical analysis and any other course dealing with numbers to pass onto medical school.
"Stick to what you are good at." It's the basic creed, we should remember. Like the yellow, black arrowed street sign that directs us around the dark bends of the road, it never leads us wrong.