e=mc2
A friend wrote in her blog about her daughter teasing her because she didn't know the equation for a line. Her daughter was proving a point that people can learn it, I'm sure I'd heard of it, and forget it immediately. I know her pain. My father is an engineer. I've seen him use a slide rule. He never understood how the fruit of his loins could be such mathematical simpleton. It's not completely my fault, and surely none of my father's.
In grade school I was the class champion of long division. We had races at the blackboard and I always won. Back then math was simple and made sense. Oh to be young and innocent. Today my mathematical skills are in par with the eminent Jethro Bodine, Double-Naught Spy/Brain Surgeon. I can do my cypherin' and my gusintas, you know, six gusinta twelve, twice.
In ninth grade I was in the orchestra. I played bass. Orchestra class met first hour in another building half way across town. A cab picked the three or four of us up and took us to the freshman high building. Algebra was second hour. The first day of class the cab was late. I walked into Mrs. Ayres' (she knew Pythagoras) room well after the appointed time. "Where have you been?" scornfully, were the first words I ever heard her speak. I've always believed the truth shall set you free, so I told her in all seriousness and honesty, "My cab was late." My reputation had proceeded me to the room in the form of my buddies sitting in the back few rows. In hind sight, they were just waiting for me to reply back with some wise crack. They were convinced that's exactly what I did. I think a few of them were laughing so hard they passed chewing gum through their noses and into the backs of the heads of the kids sitting in front of them.
Needless to say, that was the tacit end of my mathematical matriculation. Since that time I've had to force-teach myself much of the simple algebra I missed out on in ninth grade. The one thing I remember is balancing equations. Thank Pythagoras.
In grade school I was the class champion of long division. We had races at the blackboard and I always won. Back then math was simple and made sense. Oh to be young and innocent. Today my mathematical skills are in par with the eminent Jethro Bodine, Double-Naught Spy/Brain Surgeon. I can do my cypherin' and my gusintas, you know, six gusinta twelve, twice.
In ninth grade I was in the orchestra. I played bass. Orchestra class met first hour in another building half way across town. A cab picked the three or four of us up and took us to the freshman high building. Algebra was second hour. The first day of class the cab was late. I walked into Mrs. Ayres' (she knew Pythagoras) room well after the appointed time. "Where have you been?" scornfully, were the first words I ever heard her speak. I've always believed the truth shall set you free, so I told her in all seriousness and honesty, "My cab was late." My reputation had proceeded me to the room in the form of my buddies sitting in the back few rows. In hind sight, they were just waiting for me to reply back with some wise crack. They were convinced that's exactly what I did. I think a few of them were laughing so hard they passed chewing gum through their noses and into the backs of the heads of the kids sitting in front of them.
Needless to say, that was the tacit end of my mathematical matriculation. Since that time I've had to force-teach myself much of the simple algebra I missed out on in ninth grade. The one thing I remember is balancing equations. Thank Pythagoras.
posted by steve | 10:28 AM
2 Comments:
I had Mrs. Hovis for 9th grade math and was part of the crew who met with Mr. Martin before school because he was so nice and helpful to us math impaired! Years later, I went back home to give out a scholarship and was stuck at a table with Mrs. Hovis. She said, "I remember you were really smart and did well in my class." This proved that, although she might have remembered the equation for a line, she had no memory of reality when it came to her students.
I was a math whiz until 8th grade when I was sent to a brand new school second semester. I had been getting A's in algebra all first semester. Only problem was the new school had the "new math." I gotta tell you it wasn't even close to the same language as the old math. The teacher said, "don't worry, you only have 10 chapters to catch up on and you'll be up with the class." That never happened and I was generously given a D for the semester. Nightmare - never could do math again.
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