First, let me say from the start that this post is completely biased. Math and I have been enemies since 3rd grade. 3rd grade is when I discovered the fleeting joys of cheating. It was in 4th grade that I discovered the lasting pain to my rear when my parents discovered that their young son had become an expert cheater. I had been getting A’s on my math tests, yet I knew NO MATH WHATSOEVER. I thought it was a pretty good deal that I could get good grades and not know anything. My parents didn’t share my sense of good fortune.
So all the way through long division, fractions (and multiplying fractions), pre-algebra, algebra, word problems, physics, chemistry, and quantum physics I longed for the day when I would take my last math class. Then the day came as a sophomore in college. I believe the last word problem I did involved calculating the angle of a truck bed in relation to a pile of cow manure. I had to calculate how much force it would take to move x pounds of dung up the inclined truck bed. My math professor was a redneck who wore overalls to class. I passed the class (I understand dung). I thought that, after many battles, I had finally won the war. Math was dead, and I stood victorious. I could now spend the rest of my life wallowing in the glorious subjective goo of all that it is to be an English major. I recently found some of my old papers from my senior lit classes. One of the comments on the paper was something like, “Ben, your writing style is excellent. You communicate your thoughts well and the paper is engaging to read. However, you don’t seem to have a good grasp of the novel and do not cover any of the themes of the book with any detail. Did you even read the book?” You know what grade I got on that paper? I got an A. That’s what I mean by “subjective goo”.
To my dismay, however, marriage revived the math war. Kind of like an action movie where the insane villain dies in the final scene. Then when the hero lets his guard down and is busy kissing the girl and tending to her superficial wounds, the villain suddenly comes back to life and must be killed again. Despite the fact that the villain was crushed by a double-decker school bus full of kids on their way to fat camp, he is revived by rage and unrequited love for said girl with superficial injuries.
Up until I got married, my trips to the grocery store consisted of buying one item at a time. One trip = one item. Life was simple and relatively math-free. Then my wife dispatched me to the Food Lion and handed me this sheet of paper with various food items written on it. She called it “the list”. I asked her which brand she wanted for each item. Her response was terrifying. She said, “Whatever’s cheapest”.
So I’m looking at two boxes of cereal. One box is bigger, one is smaller. The bigger one is 23.34872910098 cents more expensive than the smaller box. But it’s Buy One Get one for 3.67% off if I buy it with a gallon milk which is also on sale. The smaller box is not on sale, but it comes with a coupon that I can use on the next visit to get 13.86000000002% off on my choice of scented candles or lawn mower tires. I may need lawn mower tires some day so I’m considering this option when some squeaky voice kid announces over the loudspeaker,
Today we have a special on lawn mower tires. Buy 4 and Get 1.5 for free! That’s right, folks. If you buy 4 tires for your lawn mower, you will have 1.5 spare tires left over in case you are off-roading and need a spare! And, for a limited time only, we are including a free gallon of milk!
At this point my ears start to bleed from the pressure in my head. I start having flashbacks to the 4th grade where my crazy hair-bunned teacher is asking me to do long division while shooting poisoned darts at me.
I decide to go to the phones. I’m pretty sure a math-challenged man invented cell phones. I call Heather and tell her the deal. I start ranting about why there can’t just be a price on this junk. “Do they expect me to bring a calculator to the store?”, I ask. (Right then, a bedraggled soccer mom walks by pushing a two-ton cart carrying a scientific calculator.)
Heather says, “Oh, the kids don’t like that kind of cereal. Get the Cinnamon Toast Crunch (best cereal EVER, BTW).
SWEET. It’s not on sale. Just one price tag.
Now on to the produce section. I’m told you have to weigh things over there. That should be fun…
[tags]math, grocery store, funny[/tags]
You are both funny and literate, an unusual combination for a guy.
That is just part of what I like about you.
My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Sanford by name, often wore a navy blue dress with golf-ball size, white polka dots. She terrified me with her icy glare under that head of all white, yes it’s true, bunned hair. However, she managed to convince me I would never be able to do fractions, which resutled in me finally mastering reading an analog clock. I studied it intensely while Mrs. Sanford taught fractions.
Mr. D—I guess since you didn’t learn math, you had plenty of time to build your extensive vocabulary and creatively lengthy sentence formations . . All I have to say is: The hall, the hall, the hall—oh the sanctum of the hallowed hall which in my wretched nonchalance I have carelessly violated with my noisy chatter. . . 13 years later, I still remember that beauty:)
Ha ha…Emily, that was great!!! I had forgotten that but I do remember the well thought out sentences we “got” to write! Good times!! :)
You will both be glad to know my teaching methods have become…uhhh…more mature.