I was helping my 13-year-old neighbor with her math homework last night, and it got me thinking. She was displaying a distinctly negative attitude, not really caring about learning how to solve the problems, but rather more concerned with getting the answers. At one point, as I laboriously explained a rule about simplifying expressions with negative numbers, she sighed heavily and said in a whining tone, "Can't you just give me the answers?" I was appalled, of course, but forget my bruised sense of integrity—why was she saying this? Why did she feel this way?
That's when I arrived at a realization; she reminded me of someone: myself.
I understood very well the feelings she was having and her adversity to spending any amount of time trying to figure out the answers or understand the concepts on her own. She was afraid, and she'd already decided that she wasn't smart enough to get it.
I distinctly remember approaching math with the same negative, defeatist attitude that she was displaying. I'd sit in math class, paying attention until something came up that I didn't understand. I'd feel a sense of panic deep in my belly, all mixed up with feelings of inadequacy and inferior intelligence, before my eyes glazed over and my attention receded. My mind would go somewhere else—anywhere but in that classroom, looking at that confusing scrawl of jumbled numbers, signs, and figures on the whiteboard. Homework, unassisted and lacking in sufficient examples, was a nightmare of its own.
But, the role of mind behind Click This Link order generic cialis sexual activity can't be denied. Marking the biggest growth in the demand of Read More Here generico viagra on line, the medicine is now cheap by the grace of other companies and it is not at the hands of Pfizer. It can be considered when it occurs periodically it becomes a matter of viagra pills for women concern than. You can buy these herbal supplements from reputed online stores to boost online viagra semen load, sperm count and ejaculatory force.
My attitude toward math, and the choices I made because of it, had a direct impact on my academic future; I didn't get accepted to the two universities I applied to and ended up going to junior college, which turned out to be a good decision in the long run, but felt like a failure at the time.
These memories flashed across my mind as I explained to my neighbor why I wasn't going to just give her the answers. She had a good point when she exclaimed that she'd never have to use this stuff in the real world. She was mostly right—I told her so—but I also told her that she'd have to use it for at least the next five years, and if she planned to go to college, she'd be studying some form of math for another four years after that. I recommended that she make the effort to learn the material now, because it would only get harder in the years to come. I promised that learning the material—really understanding it—would give her an edge over her classmates, and would end up making math seem a whole lot easier in the future. She didn't entirely believe me, but she started putting a little more effort toward working out the problems.
My experience with my neighbor's math homework made me realize that the lessons we have to learn come to us at a very young age; we just don't recognize them until we're older. She was contending with a common adversary, one that most of her older counterparts still struggle with: fear, and a lack of faith in her own capability. I ended up dealing with my own struggles with math by completely immersing myself in the subject, and I've spent the past 14 years working in the world of banking and finance. I learned that facing our fears empowers us to accomplish more than we think we are capable of. My neighbor is still learning this lesson in math, as we all continue to learn it in life.
Recent Comments