Maths and I have never understood each other. I have a very vivid memory of learning subtraction for the first time when I was 5 years old. I can recall sitting in my chair at the front of the class near the window looking out over the barren school oval (in 2001 Brisbane was in drought) and thinking what is the point? Who cares if we have 7 slices of pizza and Gerald eats 3; wasn't that the point, to eat the food? My five year old brain pondered, what the flip is the point (in 2001 I had not developed the vulgar vocabulary you enjoy today)?
From that point maths never got much better. My year three teacher tried to encourage my otherwise by placing me in Maths Club. What a joke that was. The teacher who ran the club had the name of a popular burger at McDonalds and was full of empty promises. For the two weeks I did the homework under the false pretense that I would receive a Freddo. Sadly Mr. MacDonalds burger never delivered; thus even further screwing my motivation for the subject.
Following a year of minimal contact, in 2005 Maths and I got ready to become better acquainted. I spent countless mornings with an extra maths text book hoping to improve my skills of numeracy. After another few years of a very "on again, off again" relationship Maths and I decided to part ways. In 2009 my teacher liked pressure cookers and swimming caps more than numbers; he inspired me a little. I got a glimpse of what a maths lesson was like without maths; fucking awesome!
Don't feel sorry for me and my lack of numeracy abilities, it is better this way. The less I see of numbers the better. Maths doesn't take it personally, it is a mutual thing. I was always cheating on it's homework with one hunk of a graphics calculator anyway.
Don't feel sorry for me and my lack of numeracy abilities, it is better this way. The less I see of numbers the better. Maths doesn't take it personally, it is a mutual thing. I was always cheating on it's homework with one hunk of a graphics calculator anyway.
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