Since Calvin College is a liberal arts institution, students are encouraged to take a variety of classes; an encouragement made mandatory by what’s called “core” classes (other universities do this too). Some of the core classes range from philosophy, to literature, to sociology, history, political science, etc. My first year, a core class made me change my major; I got really excited about sociology. And I’m a pretty interdisciplinary thinker anyway (my major could be called “The Liberal Arts Degree” instead of interdisciplinary), so most of the time I’ve been a fan of core. But, at the same time, I’m not very talented at math or science. By some act of divine providence, I got out of a chemistry course because of half a credit of pre-calculus (how would I have learned chemistry there? I don’t know, but thanks, Calvin!). I still have biology left to take next semester, but right now, I’m taking statistics.
I tried to take math 100 last year, which is theory, and I dropped it after about a class and a half, so I was not looking forward to statistics, especially since it’s four credits instead of 3. However, I am actually really enjoying it. It’s still challenging for me; my brain doesn’t naturally think the way others’ might who would excel well in statistics. But I really appreciate the way my professor connects statistical work with every day living, and even her own spiritual journey.
At the end of each semester, students get asked a question about their courses– how well did the professor incorporate Christian faith into the classroom. It’s always a debate whether that question should be in there for math and science professors. Do they teach things in a way that’s different than what a state school might teach? Many days, that answer is no, they are teaching the same material. But, the character of the professors is clear at Calvin, and sometimes the content does lend itself to spiritual inquiry, if you’re inclined that way.
My professor has done two things that are worth mentioning. First, she reads Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ. It’s so fascinating to hear his words about not relying too much on knowledge that passes away, but focus on the things important to God, and then go study stats. Yet it works, somehow keeping us humble in all our educational endeavors.
The other thing happened a few days ago. She was talking about probability. I should also say, her notes are really wonderful– clear and to the point and very thorough, so I feel like I’m really being taught the material, not forced to figure things out on my own. She was going through her lecture on the overhead (overheads! I haven’t seen a teacher use one of these since elementary school), when all of a sudden she turned it off. She said, “You know, I have a hard time teaching probability. When I read the Bible, I only find one verse about chance; everything else is about God’s control.” The room sort of got quiet; often there are a lot of bored rustlers throughout the class, since not many are actually really excited about stats in this core class, and many of the first year students still don’t have the hang of the college thing yet. But this day, we all were still as we waited for what she was about to say next. She had told us before about her children, two of whom are hearing impaired. On this day, she talked about her journey in relation to that, how 20 years ago when finding out her children couldn’t hear, and worrying that they also suffered from a disease that gradually took away their eyesight as well– to say it was challenging is probably an understatement. There was a statistical chance that any other children the couple had would have the same disease as well.
When friends and acquaintances would talk with them, they would often recommend that my professor and her husband not have any more children. That sort of existence was just too painful, their friends thought. For my professor, however, that made it seem like her friends thought her two children shouldn’t have been born at all, which of course she as their mother did not belief to be true.
The classroom was silent as we listened to her tell her story in raw vulnerability. This was a core class, I imagined students thinking. I just expected to come to class, do the homework, take the tests and move on with my life. But instead, I encountered a woman who shared her experience of God with us; some of which works really well with statistics– but she recognized the limits of probability language as well.
She and her husband did have another child, and he is not hearing impaired at all. It also became clear as her other children grew up that they did not suffer from the disease of gradual blindness, even though they still had hearing impairments. (But since they rely heavily on lipreading, it’s a wonderful blessing that they are able to keep their sight). But, being the statician that she is, our professor related this story with their doctor, of how she asked him, “So you are saying my children have no more chance of going blind than the next person in line at McDonald’s does?” and the doctor agreed, that was about the statistical chance her children would have of going blind.
I’m really enjoying my final year at Calvin, and I’m taking less credits so I can find the time to find the epiphanies in the mundane. I’m also trying to reduce my omnipotent impulses by doing less– living more simply, and appreciating what I do have, not trying to spread myself too thin.
Both of those phrases, epiphanies in the mundane and omnipotent impulse from busyness, came from other classes I’m taking, which I’ll write more about in a bit. I just finished a book on story-telling and preaching that was really interesting, so I might even have another post up today.
Peace be with you, even in your statistical studies, if that is where your heart lies, or in whatever you feel called to do and be.





















