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My Restart provider is running a course that will guarantee a job interview at the end. Despite bombarding the organisers with questions, I have no idea what the job I will be interviewed for is going to be, but at least I can’t be sifted out.
The immediate problem is that to be enrolled onto the course I must take functional tests in literacy and – horror of horrors – maths. The day I walked out of my General Studies A-Level, I danced down the path in a weird tap-salsa combo because I would never have to do algebra again.
That’s not to say I don’t do maths, but I get by with addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, which covers most things I need. On the days when I go to the supermarket and all the little zappy handset thingies have gone, my mental arithmetic is still good enough for me to have a rough idea of what I’m spending.
English: My One Moment of Glory
But back to the tests. Both subjects have two papers. I kick off with English; having spent 90-odd per cent of my professional life writing for a living, it looks like the easier option. I drop some marks – there are questions where they want you to identify two mistakes and I’m wondering which two, as I can see three or four errors. There’s another where there are two potential answers instead of the one they say there is, and there’s one sentence where the only hope of salvation is a complete re-write but that’s probably not an option.
Nevertheless, I emerge with the highest level it is possible to get. Reassured that I am in the right career, I click over to the maths paper. My confidence is further boosted when the first question is simple addition that my mental arithmetic is able to cope with.
My Brain Takes a Detour into Ancient Greece
Things go downhill from there. ‘Find the surface area of a cylinder,’ it says. I have zero memory of ever learning how to find the surface area of a cylinder. Triangle, yes; circle, yes. Cylinder? Why would I even need to know how to find the surface area of a cylinder? Manufacturers of tins make those decisions for me. If I have too many tins for a shelf, I stack them and it’s usually sensible to put the little ones on top of the big ones. I don’t need to work out the surface area to know the difference in size.
At this point my brain starts an interior monologue. Pi r squared, times two. Quite where it dragged that up from, I have no idea. The instructions tell me to use three for pi. My brain is now fascinated by pi, reminding me that it’s an infinite number as there are no repeating patterns after the decimal point, so it’s always possible to add another one. It remembers that the closest fractional equivalent is 22/7, closest being the operative word as it’s not exact. My brain can’t remember why it’s called pi, although it does know that pi is a letter in the Greek alphabet.
While recalling a surprising number of letters from the Greek alphabet, I’ve calculated the area of the circle and multiplied it by two. I now need to calculate the rectangle that forms the tube bit of the cylinder. The height is supplied, so I need to know the circumference of the circle. My interior monologue tells me that pi forms part of the calculation but it really can’t remember the rest, although it thinks the radius may also have something to do with it. Maybe it’s twice the radius, in which case why didn’t they just say diameter? I think I remember wondering about this some 40 years ago. I guess diameter times pi is the formula, and apply it.
We bounce along into a bit of algebra, which seems straightforward, and then there’s a two-part question that stumps me. The second bit is definitely to do with averages. The first part is unrecognisable. It seems to have something to do with frequency, statistics maybe? But it isn’t in any form I recognise. I have a memory of having to plot points on squared paper and link them to produce a frequency curve from which I can then do calculations, but I don’t have any squared paper. I can’t remember the last time I even saw squared paper. How can this possibly be described as functional maths if it requires specialist equipment?
I remember being told to always put an answer, particularly if you can show your working out, as you might get some marks. But there’s nowhere on the screen to show my working out, and I can’t even begin to work out what the answer might be. I ignore the sound advice I received nearly 40 years ago and skip to the next question.
Finally, a Sum I Can Do
My end result is 2.1. I have no idea what that means. Not that it matters. It transpires the entire thing has been a waste of time.
I have two meetings during the course for freelance assignments. The course organiser insists I must attend the entire three weeks in person and that there is no opportunity to make up the time later. This is not what their manager said.
The choice is to do the course that will guarantee me an interview but not a job with a salary (the example my job centre work coach showed me is a three-week work experience) or skip the course and attend the meetings that I will be paid for.
Now that’s the kind of calculation I can do!
