Day Three- The History of Math.

          I have a history degree. If you were going to assume qualities about people with this degree, “great at math” is often not found on the list. I claim this wholeheartedly. I am bad at math.

          I didn't do well in high school. Rather than try in my math classes I spent a lot of time complaining, and cheating. Because when was I ever going to need to know the quadratic formula of a triangle?

Look! It's twenty degrees outside!

         
         During my time at Walla Walla I spent time volunteering at a local grade school. One day I was asked to help some third graders multiply fractions. Moments after glancing at the material I realized I have no idea how to multiply fractions. One of the other kids helped to relieve my panic and explain things to me. I don’t think the teacher found that one out.

          Thank goodness I'm never going to teach math, right?! (This is called foreshadowing. See! I would be a great English teacher!)

          I spent the last two years working at Walla Walla High School as an AVID tutor. I loved this job, except on those days when I was asked to help tutor math. I would play it off and have the kids explain to me what they knew and we would work through it. But they knew. The kids always know.

I teach math at Fletcher Academy.

          The first week of school I get a phone call from the principal: “Annie, I need to talk to you, I’m coming to your office.” Immediately my mind races through all the possible reason why I could be getting fired right now. Coming up empty, I continue to panic nonetheless. Sitting down across from me he says, “We have a problem. (OH MY WORD PANIC.) And you are the solution.” (STILL PANIC BUT WHAT OH MY.) From there he explained that the school had too many students and not enough teachers and they needed someone to teach an algebra I class. I instantly thought of a thousand reasons so say no, but instead heard myself saying “Yes.”

          I have seven students in my algebra class. They are all fabulous humans, with a diminished desire to do math. They are basically me in high school. I laugh at this irony as I try and convince them to try. Some days things go well, I know what is happening, and how to do the problems. Other days I ask my student helper questions to which any math teacher should know the answer.

          It’s only 50 minutes a day, but when I hear the laughter coming from the history class that meets next to mine I pine for a time when the problems weren’t so foreign, and the foreign problems were political.

Moral of the story: Learning math in high school WILL come in handy someday.