This is perplexing on so many levels, not the least of which being that I still need to count on my fingers to determine 8+5 and other basic addition facts.
My past math teachers are cringing.
I struggled in math...just ask my dad...
He's the one that would watch in bewilderment as I would sob uncontrollably lamenting over the fact that I didn't care how fast the stupid train was going and who the heck cared the age differences between Bob, Sue and Coco when Bob was x years older than Sue and Coco had could run a 6 minute mile?
many, many, many nights of crying...tear stained homework papers...scribbled messes and eraser marks until you could barely see my "shown work" on the non-recycled white notebook paper.
I drove my classmates crazy...
I drove my teachers crazy...
I was on a mission to force my brain to soak up whatever it was that everyone else appeared to understand so that I could get that A on the test.
For me it was the challenge...it was the proving that I COULD get that coveted 4.0 and prove to
Looking back, yes, I may have learned some valuable lessons about never giving up, and learning to think critically and not to mention becoming enlightened as to the value of a high-end quality eraser.
If I am honest with myself however, I do realize that though my grades reflect that I have an exemplary understanding of math concepts, this is a complete and utter falsehood.
I know this to be true because I attempted to check my 6th grade daughter's math homework last night and was reminded again that not only do I not care how many chairs Mr. Lee can paint in 3 hours using 7 liters of paint, but that I often can't even determine what in the world the problem is asking? (i.e. what is X?)
Far be it from me to leave my daughter stranded...Momma Bear to the rescue...
Fortunately Momma Bear has a math minded dad, a ridiculously smart brother, a math teacher sister in law and GOOGLE! And so, into the wee hours of the morning (or maybe it was only 9:30 at night, but, I was concentrating, so let us imagine that I was burning the midnight oil because it makes this post actually slightly interesting, or at least it does in my mind, okay?) I worked on the last problem of her homework trying to remember equations for rate and getting distracted that Mr. Lee was actually painting so many chairs, and what color paint was he using?
I was so thankful...and I MEAN THANKFUL that my daughter didn't seem as distraught as me over this lack of understanding...it's not that I don't want her to WANT to learn...she just doesn't need to obtain ulcers and cry buckets over people who choose to paint chairs for a living.
I do see some resemblances though between Sweetpea and myself at that age. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I do have a small degree of anxiousness surrounding her desire for perfection, but I was encouraged last night that it was only I that began yelling at Mr. Lee, "For the love of all things holy, just get a new profession and buy recliners so we don't have to answer this stupid question!"
