In Which Amita Makes A Decision Re: Her Career Goals
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Word count:
Prompt:
In Which Amita Makes A Decision Re: Her Career Goals
G
558
Awesome People of Colour are Awesome: Comment-a-thon
rubynye NUMB3RS, Amita Ramanujan. When/why/how/where did she decide she wanted to continue her education beyond her Bachelor's degree?
The summer after her junior year, all the middle-aged ladies who had tea with her mother suddenly wanted to know her plans after graduation.
"I'm not sure yet," said Amita.
The Aunties nodded.
"Computers," said one, "computers is the future."
The second one sniffed, "This isn't 1996. She should be an I-banker."
The third nodded, "Finance is the best sector these days. It's good to make a lot of money early on so you can focus on raising a family afterwards."
Amita suppressed a choke. "I was actually wondering about graduate school."
"Oh good, an MBA!"
"No, I meant in mathematics. I'm looking into..."
The first Auntie cried, "And what do you think you're going to do with a Masters in mathematics? Be a school teacher? You're such a smart girl, it would be such a shame..."
"I meant a Ph.D," she interjected.
The Aunties stared at her.
"I'm going to give you some good advice," said Auntie No.2. "You aren't going to find a nice husband if you go around saying things like that."
"I don't recommend Ph.D.s for young girls," said No.3. "All that studying will dry out your scalp and your hair will fall out."
"My sister-in-law's niece tried to get a Ph.D. in Electrical Engineering," said No.1, "and it got really hard after her second baby. Her husband had to launder his own clothes sometimes."
"Yes," said the second Auntie, "If you must get a Ph.D., wait until you're married and settled and your children have grown-up. Important things first."
And that, in the end, was what it all came down to. At the age of 21 Amita suddenly found herself Eligible For Marriage. Her mother began dragging her to every wedding, dinner party and chat-n-chai gathering in town, where mothers of Suitable Boys would eye her carefully and confer with each other. The staring and whispers made her a nervous wreck, and she realized she'd rather retake Complex Analysis than be subjected to more matchmaking.
At the eighth party of the summer, after facing more probing questions and head-pats from yet another round of potential mothers-in-law, Amita hid in a stall in the ladies room. After a few minutes of crying into a wad of paper towels, she washed her face and pulled a ballpoint pen out of her purse. On a fresh paper towel, she began computing the Jacobian for n-dimensional spherical coordinates.
By the time she finished deriving the general formula, she began to feel like herself again - not Amita the Future-Wife-and-Homemaker for a random hedge-fund manager, but Amita the Future-Field's-Medal-Winner.
She absently clicked the ball-point in and out as her eyes flicked over the ink scrawls. In the beginning they were sloppy and heavy-handed, but in the hour it took her to finish the derivation, her writing had become condensed, disciplined, steadily marching across the paper and drawing truth and meaning out of symbols and induction. Amita took a deep breath and released it slowly.
She stuffed the scribbled paper towel into her purse and left the rest-room.
"There you are!" her mother cried. "I've been looking all over for you. Come meet Mrs. G. C. Sharma. Her son is in Yale Medical School!"
"Such a lovely girl," said Mrs. Sharma. "What are your plans after graduation?"
Amita smiled, "I'm getting a Ph.D. in Applied and Computational Mathematics. I want to apply ergodic theory to young galaxy formation."
Mrs. Sharma took a step back. Amita's mother glared at her.
Amita offered them her respects and went to get dessert.
Rating:
Word count:
Prompt:
In Which Amita Makes A Decision Re: Her Career Goals
G
558
Awesome People of Colour are Awesome: Comment-a-thon
rubynye NUMB3RS, Amita Ramanujan. When/why/how/where did she decide she wanted to continue her education beyond her Bachelor's degree?
The summer after her junior year, all the middle-aged ladies who had tea with her mother suddenly wanted to know her plans after graduation.
"I'm not sure yet," said Amita.
The Aunties nodded.
"Computers," said one, "computers is the future."
The second one sniffed, "This isn't 1996. She should be an I-banker."
The third nodded, "Finance is the best sector these days. It's good to make a lot of money early on so you can focus on raising a family afterwards."
Amita suppressed a choke. "I was actually wondering about graduate school."
"Oh good, an MBA!"
"No, I meant in mathematics. I'm looking into..."
The first Auntie cried, "And what do you think you're going to do with a Masters in mathematics? Be a school teacher? You're such a smart girl, it would be such a shame..."
"I meant a Ph.D," she interjected.
The Aunties stared at her.
"I'm going to give you some good advice," said Auntie No.2. "You aren't going to find a nice husband if you go around saying things like that."
"I don't recommend Ph.D.s for young girls," said No.3. "All that studying will dry out your scalp and your hair will fall out."
"My sister-in-law's niece tried to get a Ph.D. in Electrical Engineering," said No.1, "and it got really hard after her second baby. Her husband had to launder his own clothes sometimes."
"Yes," said the second Auntie, "If you must get a Ph.D., wait until you're married and settled and your children have grown-up. Important things first."
And that, in the end, was what it all came down to. At the age of 21 Amita suddenly found herself Eligible For Marriage. Her mother began dragging her to every wedding, dinner party and chat-n-chai gathering in town, where mothers of Suitable Boys would eye her carefully and confer with each other. The staring and whispers made her a nervous wreck, and she realized she'd rather retake Complex Analysis than be subjected to more matchmaking.
At the eighth party of the summer, after facing more probing questions and head-pats from yet another round of potential mothers-in-law, Amita hid in a stall in the ladies room. After a few minutes of crying into a wad of paper towels, she washed her face and pulled a ballpoint pen out of her purse. On a fresh paper towel, she began computing the Jacobian for n-dimensional spherical coordinates.
By the time she finished deriving the general formula, she began to feel like herself again - not Amita the Future-Wife-and-Homemaker for a random hedge-fund manager, but Amita the Future-Field's-Medal-Winner.
She absently clicked the ball-point in and out as her eyes flicked over the ink scrawls. In the beginning they were sloppy and heavy-handed, but in the hour it took her to finish the derivation, her writing had become condensed, disciplined, steadily marching across the paper and drawing truth and meaning out of symbols and induction. Amita took a deep breath and released it slowly.
She stuffed the scribbled paper towel into her purse and left the rest-room.
"There you are!" her mother cried. "I've been looking all over for you. Come meet Mrs. G. C. Sharma. Her son is in Yale Medical School!"
"Such a lovely girl," said Mrs. Sharma. "What are your plans after graduation?"
Amita smiled, "I'm getting a Ph.D. in Applied and Computational Mathematics. I want to apply ergodic theory to young galaxy formation."
Mrs. Sharma took a step back. Amita's mother glared at her.
Amita offered them her respects and went to get dessert.