Still looks like chinese to me, but with parentheses.
Don't stumble over the notation. Divide 1 by a number bigger than 1 and you get some number smaller than 1. Divide 1 by a still bigger number and you get a number that's smaller than the previous results -- a number closer to zero. Keep doing this repeatedly with ever-larger numbers. Your results become ever-smaller numbers, approaching zero. The bigger the divisor, the closer the result gets to zero, in a clearly visible way. Now if there were some ultimately large number and you divided 1 by it, the trend suggests that the result would be zero. This is most visible if you graph it.
That's the beginning of calculus. Calculus says, "We know you can't slice things up into infinitely small slices. But is there a way to tell what would happen if you could? And is this actually useful for anything?"
The classic example is your car speedometer. You measure speed (a rate) as distance traveled in a specific time. If it takes you 2 hours to drive 100 miles, you can normalize that by reckoning it as 50 miles per hour -- on average. That's a grossly determined average rate. In practice you sped up and slowed down. You can even reckon it as just under one mile in a minute, if minutes are your preferred time unit. But that still fails to capture slowdowns and speedups that occurred over less time than a minute. Your car speedometer (in a modern car, anyway) measures the distance traveled (by counting how many times your tire turned and guessing its radius) in a tiny fraction of a second and constantly positions the needle to show you a rough approximation of your speed when you consult the gauge. It's rough because you're still averaging over tiny time increments, and your tire rotation rate may vary slightly up and down within that increment and not be detected. But it's accurate enough to keep you from getting a ticket.
Calculus waves the wand and asks, "What if we could determine how far your tire turned in a slice of time that was so small it effectively
is zero?" And in practical terms you'd say that's impossible since, if time doesn't actually pass, the wheel doesn't actually turn. Your rotations per unit time are unknown since "per unit time" in this case is zero. But calculus lets you look at the trend as you slice your time into finer and finer increments and say, for the smallest conceivable increment, that the normalized rate actually approaches a useful number.
Then calculus shows that, if you embrace the behavior of things predictably trending even over very, very small divisions like this, you can adopt certain definitions that now let you understand this "instantaneous" rate for phenomena you can model abstractly as equations. Instead of actually counting tire rotations, you can use the new algebra with its special-case definitions to manipulate symbolically the relationships among quantities and reason about their instantaneous rates of change, or -- in the reverse -- about their accumulated quantities, in a way that actually corresponds helpfully to reality.
That's the real-world check on what admittedly looks like a lot of Chinese. This stuff actually works. It's what lets us compute, for example, the exact center of gravity and moment of inertia for arbitrarily-shaped objects. So it's not just the domain of pimply-faced nerds writing incomprehensible gibberish.