Math + Mama = Misery

"Homework, O homework, I hate you. You stink!
I wish I could wash you away in the sink..."

Wise words from the great Shel Silverstein. I don't know if John Mart Stephens ever reads this blog, but I vividly remember him reciting this poem for U.I.L. Poetry Interpretation one year. I think he took first place. That was the year I read an excerpt from The Canterbury Tales, in seventh grade, the brainchild of my English teacher. No one was a big fan of the poetry or my terrible British accent. Sad, but true, old chap. But, I digress.

I have never been a fan of math homework. Not in elementary, junior high, high school, or college. I think I danced a jig the day I finished College Algebra with a passing grade and knew that I would never, ever have to do math homework again. Oh, my simple-minded naivete! How did I not realize that only a few years later I would start the process all over again WITH MY OWN KIDS?

Yes, I have literally given birth to a whole new lifetime of math homework. And I am not enthused.

Not only am I struggling through math homework with my second grader, I am sending her to an elementary school with an accelerated math program. What was I thinking? I have honestly already had to Google some stuff just to figure out how to do it. The terminology has changed, the methods have changed, and the expectations have dramatically changed. I don't even know how her little mind is figuring all this stuff out.

I find myself dreading that hour to hour and a half after school when I have to sit at the table, feigning interest in what has always been the most boring subject in the world (in my mind). I can't even think of any ways to tell her that this will come in handy in the future. Except that it will help her be able to do even more homework. For the next twelve or so years. Ugh.

I think I can settle all the speculation about what the thorn in Paul's flesh was. It was math. And I sympathize with him. Let's hope Adelade inherits some distant relative's penchant for mathematical equations, because if it's left up to my genes (or her daddy's), she's in for a lifetime of hurt.

But, I'll go on acting like math is the greatest thing that ever hit second grade. And I'll start praying now that Adelade becomes a math genius so that maybe she can help Sawyer and Emerald with their homework.

My expertise lies more in the area of British accents, anyway.