MATH

Math

~75% of all Americans are poor at Math…That's nearly half. ~

I have Math Anxiety.  I know this is a term that can have several meanings but what it means to me is a lot more.   Math has always been a bane to my existence.

 In elementary school we were force to write our answers on the chalk board for all to see.  We would go up by rows and show our skill to the rest of the class.  I would freak and never be able to do it quickly.  I was a finger counter and still occasionally use my digits to do math.  We sat in alphabetical order and Teresa Gilbert sat in front of me my first few years of school... and she was great with math.  The problem was given and she would write the figures down and solve it at the same time.  I and my board mates were still writing it down as she finished  up. 

My imagination would extend for the time I had up at the board to an infinity with fellow class mates laughing at my stupidity for not being able to finish.  It was at this time I learned that I had great peripheral vision and could see Teresa's work out of the corner of my eye.  Rather than risk the stigma of being called "stupid" I cheated.  I used her answer to stay up with the class.  I never finished fast because I thought that would give it away.  I pretended to think it through by touching the numerals with my chalk.  Finally I would swoop the numbers down and go back to my seat while others struggled to finish their work.  This usually went well, but Teresa's family also traveled and she would sometimes go with them.  This  left me next to Sam Lumberton who was as skilled as math as I was.  To look at his answer was to invite trouble.  I would try to finish before him, but the numbers always looked so foreign to me and I usually didn’t get the know-how to finish before one of the teachers would call me out and publically humiliate me by pretending to help me go through all the steps. 

   

 "You remember this Kenneth, you did it yesterday.  Teresa was beside you and you finished right after she did."

I was not sure whether the teacher was playing dumb or if she was really dumb, either way, I was worried. 

Years of embarrassment of having to pass my paper back one person to let another student grade as I received the one in front of me.  One year In Algebra I sat all the way in the back.  After a hard night of trying to figure out my homework I had to pass my paper to the front as everyone else passed theirs back.  The girl on the front row was loud and nasal.  She raised her hand and spoke at the same time with out being acknowledged.  Yes, I remember her name.

    "Mrs. Ratcliff, I don’t think Kenneth did the right ones, he didn’t get any of the answers right"  More public humiliation.  I hated math, I wasn’t too fond of that girl either.  Years of math torture and humiliation. 

     Jump ahead a few years, college. Stood in line to register for being an electrical engineer, I had always loved tinkering with electronics.  The counselor on the other side put down the syllabus of all the classes I would need to complete my major. 

"Whoa, Mr.  I am afraid you misunderstood me, I wanted to be an electrical engineer, not a math major."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?  There are over 3 math classes for each semester of this program. "

"Correct. You have to have that to graduate."

I slid down to the next chair and looked at the man behind the table.  "What have you got I asked?"

"Theatre, he replied."

"How much math is involved in the major?"

"Just one college algebra class during the second semester."

I looked at the first man and took the syllabus of the theatre degree and signed my name.  I should have signed it in blood.  Who knew what I was getting into.  I thought  practically no math and I can meet a lot of girls.  I discovered that people who work in colleges will lie to you about what the major consist of.  I had more math in theatre than I had ever seen.  You have to have math to figure up how to build sets, focus lights, and budget a show.  This came okay with me because I never believed it was real math.  I struggled three times to pass college algebra only to withdraw each time.  It always held me back and kept my grade point average at a lower level.  Finally, it made me leave school.  I had done all my other classes but lacked the math I needed to graduate, I gave up.

Jump ahead to a later date.  Back in school, determined to graduate.  When you are gone for a while the schools will determine that you need at least two years of giving them unorthodox amounts of money to cover things they feel like you have forgotten.  Finished all my classes with straight 'A's, I had not forgotten….then came the math class. 

I am sorry to say I can not remember the teacher's name, she was a true artist.  Not the kind of artist that draws or paints or sings, but she was an artist with math.  She saw it in ways that most people could not understand.  She would sit in the lobby of the student union and work math problems for fun.  I thought at the time that she was mentally disturbed. She was encouraging and dedicated to show me how to work problems out.  I fought to keep my focus on the work.  I went home and worked on math for hours and days.  I went to co workers who were good at math to show me certain things.  I asked my Dad and Mom to help as well.  Both of them savants with math.  Mom was a great teacher, but Dad could do the figures in his head and would tell me if my answers were correct or not. 

     It is here that I need to say that my math anxiety  ruled my temper.  If I couldn’t do the math, I would get mad at it and shut down my thoughts.  If it didn’t work the way I thought it was supposed to then it was not right.  My anger was intense with math.  My Mom and Dad were saints.  They put up with my explosive hatred, yes, hatred of numbers.  But, after five weeks of working on nothing else but math I was getting a pretty good rhythm in finishing with the right answers.  Then the questions got harder, but I stayed with it.  One night I was trying to work a problem and told my Dad the problem as well. I could see him struggling with it as well.  I was worried.  He, for the first time, pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something down, greek I think and then talked me through finishing it for myself and I understood.  Really understood what he was talking about.  I finished that nights work and closed my book taking my first real breath with out sighing. He looked at me and smiled. 

"You know, she is teaching you more than Algebra don’t you?"

"What? I replied"

"She is teaching you trigonometry and higher levels of math than just college algebra."

"That witch, I said." 

Then he just laughed.  He said to me,

"You haven't worked on plain algebra for at least two weeks.  What you are doing  is the math that I have to do in figuring up roadway designs and bridges."

 I couldn’t argue with him.  I just didn’t know.

I wish I could tell you all that I made an "A" in that class.  It would be a cold hearted lie.  I was worried about passing.  Working homework was one thing, but taking tests was another.  The last night of class I struggled with the beast inside of me to keep my temper in check and not shut down at the insanity of math.  I was stressed and the last to finish the test by at least 45 minutes.  The teacher smiled at me when I turned in the paper, she knew  the trouble I was going through.  The next morning and most of the day I worried about passing, about fighting this dragon that chased me through life.  I am by no means an unintelligent person, but math crippled me.  Then about three in the afternoon I got a call from my teacher, she thought I would like to know the results of the test before she posted them.  I took a deep breath…

"You passed."

 I thanked her profusely and hung up the phone.  Then I cried and shook all over, a soft cry that shook from within and released a warrior who could do anything.  I had defeated the one thing in my life that I felt held me back.  My last dragon was slain.  The future is mine.

~Curtain~