It's not as boring as it sounds. It's actually quite an amusing story.
Once upon a time, back in school, I used to slog it out with algebra and geometry and trigonometry and calculus and those thingamajigs. I could swear that every important person I met was brilliant at math, and they used to swear by one rule: it's only the answer that counts. Many of them asserted that it was the only reason they actually loved math; no beating around the bush, like in the languages. It doesn't matter what algorithms you use, what formulas you're taught or how you prefer to write your 4's and your 7's, as long as your answer's right.
One might argue then, as to what the point of math class is, post the invention of a calculator.
So, back when I used to struggle with the math, we were told in school that we had marks for the procedure. Many saw it as a chance to score even if the answer was wrong; I saw it as an added stressor. What if I miss a step and lose marks on that? What's the point of this whole charade when nothing but the end result mattered, I asked.
I was never a math person, but I was a good student. My family comprises of hardcore Science and Commerce students, and there is a whole seeking-their-approval thing that may be spoken of another day; let's just say that scoring in math was the only way I could get out of school peacefully. There; motivation.
One fateful evening, I was frustrated with algebra. It seems simple now, but back then I was in the 6th Std. Everything is difficult in the 6th Std.
6x+7y= 84
"Argh!"
"What?", asked my dad. Let me warn you, he's kind of a Math wizard.
"Well, this seems like something we've already been taught, but there's this whole procedure that I need to do before I get to the answer. I've solved a hundred sums today, but if I forget a single step, I lose marks! It's exhausting", I burst out.
"Is it not in English? Read it." My dad said, not looking up from his newspaper.
"What?", I asked, confounded.
"Read it." My dad said, plainly.
"Ok. 6 x's and 7 y's equal 84", I said. Something clicked.
"There. Would it not help your teachers if they could make sense of what you write in the paper? They can read it out just as you did, and then they'll know you've understood your algebra and are not faking it."
6 more years of math after that, and every difficult sum I solved reminded me of this.
I haven't even glanced at a math sum in a year, and this has been the best year of my life, by far; though those might not be completely related statements. I am today a language student with a passion for literature and writing. Would I have been this if my dad hadn't asked me to read the language of math all those years ago? Probably not. My dad taught me to find meaning, a pattern, a language in everything, and it is only today that I absolutely appreciate it.
Math is a form of literature that is straightforward in its own right. And all those signs and symbols that the Greek so sadistically passed on to us, all make sense. Each line in math makes sense; in fact, if it wouldn't screw up decimals, I'm pretty sure they would let us have full stops and commas in the sums too! I'm not saying I miss it; I'm saying I appreciate its presence in the 12 years of my life.
There was also a lesson there, wasn't it? Oh yes, something about means and ends. Never mind that.
Once upon a time, back in school, I used to slog it out with algebra and geometry and trigonometry and calculus and those thingamajigs. I could swear that every important person I met was brilliant at math, and they used to swear by one rule: it's only the answer that counts. Many of them asserted that it was the only reason they actually loved math; no beating around the bush, like in the languages. It doesn't matter what algorithms you use, what formulas you're taught or how you prefer to write your 4's and your 7's, as long as your answer's right.
One might argue then, as to what the point of math class is, post the invention of a calculator.
So, back when I used to struggle with the math, we were told in school that we had marks for the procedure. Many saw it as a chance to score even if the answer was wrong; I saw it as an added stressor. What if I miss a step and lose marks on that? What's the point of this whole charade when nothing but the end result mattered, I asked.
I was never a math person, but I was a good student. My family comprises of hardcore Science and Commerce students, and there is a whole seeking-their-approval thing that may be spoken of another day; let's just say that scoring in math was the only way I could get out of school peacefully. There; motivation.
One fateful evening, I was frustrated with algebra. It seems simple now, but back then I was in the 6th Std. Everything is difficult in the 6th Std.
6x+7y= 84
"Argh!"
"What?", asked my dad. Let me warn you, he's kind of a Math wizard.
"Well, this seems like something we've already been taught, but there's this whole procedure that I need to do before I get to the answer. I've solved a hundred sums today, but if I forget a single step, I lose marks! It's exhausting", I burst out.
"Is it not in English? Read it." My dad said, not looking up from his newspaper.
"What?", I asked, confounded.
"Read it." My dad said, plainly.
"Ok. 6 x's and 7 y's equal 84", I said. Something clicked.
"There. Would it not help your teachers if they could make sense of what you write in the paper? They can read it out just as you did, and then they'll know you've understood your algebra and are not faking it."
6 more years of math after that, and every difficult sum I solved reminded me of this.
I haven't even glanced at a math sum in a year, and this has been the best year of my life, by far; though those might not be completely related statements. I am today a language student with a passion for literature and writing. Would I have been this if my dad hadn't asked me to read the language of math all those years ago? Probably not. My dad taught me to find meaning, a pattern, a language in everything, and it is only today that I absolutely appreciate it.
Math is a form of literature that is straightforward in its own right. And all those signs and symbols that the Greek so sadistically passed on to us, all make sense. Each line in math makes sense; in fact, if it wouldn't screw up decimals, I'm pretty sure they would let us have full stops and commas in the sums too! I'm not saying I miss it; I'm saying I appreciate its presence in the 12 years of my life.
There was also a lesson there, wasn't it? Oh yes, something about means and ends. Never mind that.
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