They tell you to take math classes all the way through high school, so you can get into college. True fact — I did not take a single math course in college. Not one.
My relationship with math can best be summed up in the immortal words of my 9-year-old self:
Math, math, I hate math.
I’d rather take a bath
Than do my math.
Is it any wonder that I majored in history in college, with a minor in English?
Even though I got A’s in math all through high school, I confess to knowing next to nothing about the subject. Ask me about differential equations, and I’ll say I don’t know why they’re different.
Despite my ignorance of mathematics, I do have a certain fascination with numbers. I enjoy taking control of them, putting them in order and subduing them to my will. Thus, I am among the distinct minority of people who faithfully balance their checkbooks. According to the website statisticbrain.com, only 21 percent of Americans achieve this feat. That’s less than the voter turnout for the latest municipal election. Although the balancing act takes time and often involves wrestling sums into submission, the result is always satisfying to me. I feel a mastery over my money, at least on paper.
A balanced checkbook is much like a balanced diet: not many people live that way, but those who do feel a smug sense of self-righteousness that leads them to lord it over the rest of humanity.
“I had a kale and quinoa salad for lunch every day this week.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I balanced my checkbook down to the penny!”
Give it up guys: neither side is likely to win many converts.
I’ve even found a way to organize numbers for fun, if you can believe it. It’s called Sudoku. It’s not math—really. It’s logic, which is a philosophy course in college, not located in the math department at all. The whole point of Sudoku is to place the numerals one through nine in the correct spaces of a nine by nine grid. By a process of elimination, you can deduce which number goes in what space. Elementary, my dear Watson!
Given my anathema to math, it’s funny that I have kids who are very good at it. They didn’t get that from their mom, that’s for sure. Although I did take part in the dinnertime game we called “mental math.” (No, you’re not mental for playing; you just play in your head). It goes like this: “If you’re seven and your sister is nine, how old will you be when she turns sweet sixteen?” Tricky question, since the kid needs to know not only how to add and subtract, but also when his own birthday is in relation to his sister’s. Or an easier one, “If I give you six goldfish crackers, how many more do you need to make ten?” Of course, when asking this question I need to have the goldfish cracker bag in my hand and not be afraid to use it; otherwise my mental math question is nothing more than a dreaded word problem.
In addition to balancing my checkbook and counting out goldfish crackers, I have to admit that I do use math quite a bit in daily life. A working understanding of geometry can help me figure out how many square feet of carpet I need for my living room. If I want to increase the recipe to make enough cookies for both the bake sale and the kids at home, I need to know all about fractions.
Sewing also requires a nodding acquaintance with math. Fabric is sold by the yard, or some smaller portion thereof. Again with the fractions! I have to be able to figure out how many yards I need to buy to end up with the 87 inches of fabric required to cut out my Christmas jammies. This calculation is always made more difficult by the fact that the pattern calls for 45-inch wide fabric but the store sells bolts of 43 inches wide, thus rendering the pattern layouts useless. I suspect collusion between the pattern makers and the fabric manufacturers as part of a deep laid plot to force consumers to buy extra fabric which then languishes in closets and attics until the end of time—but that’s another story.
I may never have a full appreciation for the beauty and usefulness of math. As a responsible adult, I would much rather relax in a hot bath with a book of Sudoku than do any kind of math. But hey, I balance my checkbook down to the penny!
• Peggy McKee Barnhill is a wife, mother and aspiring author who lives in Juneau. She likes to look at the bright side of life.
