O, Calculus, Calculus how can this be?
I work and I work, but I never see
any improvements in grades or in understanding.
O Calculus, who'd have thought you'd be so demanding?
Every night when I'm with you, I begin to shout!
When stuck on a problem, it's my intelligence I doubt.
In all my frustration, I pull at my hair;
my paper is wrinkled after I rip and I tear.
At night I can't sleep, you have me so stressed,
and at dawn you come, before I am dressed.
O Calculus, why do you treat me like this?
Would it hurt to give me a minute of bliss?
You tell me this work will prepare me for college,
But I don't know where I'll use this knowledge.
I'll just listen to you and do my homework,
praying to God I don't go berserk.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.