"Show me the number 23," I instruct a small girl with owlish glasses who, after three days of general class instruction, still does not understand the concept. She peers at me, then reaches for the rods and cubes and organizes two ten rods and three ones cubes. So far, so good.

"Now," I say, "I want you to take away 18. Can you show me how?"

She peers at me again and reaches for a ten rod. I nod. She lays the rod aside. "How much is that?" I ask.

"Ten," she murmurs and lets her hands hover over the ones cubes. I wait, she hovers. Finally she says, "I can't do that."

Teaching moment. "What about the ten rod you have left?" I ask. "Can you make that into ten ones and borrow them?" She looks at me. A long time. Finally she sighs and says, "No."

"Because?" I prompt.

"Because," she says, obviously puzzled by my stupidity (I am the teacher, after all), "they're all glued together." She pauses. "And I can't put a whole stick on the side with cubes."

Ah, the literal mind. "How about if you trade the ten rod for ten cubes and put

*them*on the ONES side?" I suggest.

She dutifully removes the remaining ten rod, picks up ten cubes, and deposits them on on the ONES side. She waits, staring alternately at them and at me. "Now, how many ones do you need to take away?" I ask her.

"I just put them on there," she says. I bite my tongue. I begin again.

"You started with 23. I wanted you to subtract 18. You took away one 10 rod and borrowed the other ten rod. Then you regrouped the ones. Now you need to take away how many ones?"

"Two?" she guesses.

"Why just two?" I ask. I can hear the echo of her puzzlement in my own voice.

"Because," she tells me with teacherly patience, "I took away two rods." She holds up her two index fingers. "One and one are two, see?"

*************

I must confess, numbers baffle me, too. They’re mysterious. They multiply and divide with impunity, they add up to something else or take themselves away. When they are called statistics, they lie. When they are angled, they get obtuse. And when they are money, they disappear. Put them on a form with words in fine print and they scare me to death.

I also have trouble making numbers do as I ask. For instance, I can write the number 56 but when I am not looking, the five and the six sometimes change places. That happens a lot in my checkbook. I have difficulty with zeroes, too. I was told in first grade that a zero represented nothing. Then I was asked to subtract 9 from 10. You can see my dilemma.

As a child, I was an embarrassment to my mother who could add whole columns of figures in her head and do long division without crying. I was the last one in sixth grade to earn a gold seal for learning the multiplication tables and the only one to continue using my fingers (and toes) for adding and subtracting long after calculators were introduced to the modern world.

In high school I dreaded math class. I had enough trouble with numbers I could see. When they became letters such as X and Y, I was lost. And when they got all mixed up in word problems – well, I ask you, if a train traveling at X miles an hour passes Chicago at 2:00 p.m. and a car traveling Y miles an hour leaves Des Moines two hours later, who cares where the conductor and the driver of the car meet for lunch?

As for fractions, they make me fractious. They are conveniently marked on the sides of a measuring cup; if I have to do other than cook with fractions, I leave the problem alone. Fortunately, for people like me, the ruler was invented. I am perfectly capable of counting the little lines between the big ones and the only numbers I have to deal with are the ones I am most familiar with (1-12).

*********

I reach over and remove eight ones cubes from my student's paper. She watches me with indifference. "How much is left on your paper?" I ask her. She counts the remaining cubes.

"Five," she sighs.

I write 18 + 5 = ____ on a piece of paper. "Can you add those numbers?" I ask. She takes a pencil, chews on the eraser for a moment, does some magic with her fingers and says, "Twenty-three."

"That's the number we started with," I gloat, trying to rouse some enthusiasm in the small, pained face before me. "Good job! Shall we try another problem?"

My pupil looks at me with a sigh of resignation. "I'd rather go to the nurse, please."

## 8 comments:

Poor baby. Clearly math is not her forte. She will probably go on to win idol or the lottery and be able to hire someone to do her numbers and we hope that they will not steal everything from her.

No more borrowing? It's called regrouping? You use rods and cubes? Now I'm REALLY confused!!!! :)

I thoroughly enjoyed this post...I know exactly how the little girl feels. Too many times I was the one who sat unhappily as a teacher tried in vain to teach me what those numbers meant.

Now my eyes glaze over as discussions about money situations arise. My mind has long ago decided that if numbers are involved, skip that one!

It's strange...the numbers in my checkbook seem to reverse themselves as well. Maybe it's a world wide phenomenon!

Odd that the Chicago Gangsters of yesteryear had no difficulty running their numbers dealings. I suppose that those who did not repay their borrowings would find their body parts being regrouped.

(a mobile phone enabled comment)

i say make rods that are connected like lincoln logs so they can pull them apart and see the parts making the whole! i like the term "borrowing" best. "regrouping" is a word they don't even know/use - all kids know how to "borrow" things and money!

teachers should be paid salaries comensurate to those of professional athletes, in my opinion. it is such an important job and requires patience unlike any i have. anyone who can do that job and stay out of jail, is a resourceful saint!

speaking of math - when i was introduced to different bases i thought i was living on another planet...omg, the base of 2 having only 2 numbers - 1 and zero. i was completely lost. little did i know that this would resurface in my life one day in the way data travels!

The calculator was invented for this child and most of America. The problem is they will never know if their answer makes sense because they just don't get the concept of subtraction (or addition or multiplication or division). It was always so intuitive for me, but then I was a numbers nerd. I don't know if I would have the patience to teach children who struggle with numbers.

Tabor, on Monday I will try a new angle and see how far I get...

Marion - we are kindred souls!

B, I'd love to get this kid to run with numbers ;)

Sky, I'm bringing you to the negotiation table with me. You'd cringe if you knew how little I'm paid.

Barbara - calculators are not allowed in second grade in our school system. There has to be a way to get her to understand. I am going to backtrack with this child and go at subtraction by way of addition which she can do with some degree of accuracy. Or she may simply be unready to move into subtraction, at which point trying to get her to understand it is futile.

Brings back memories. I recall if we acted up in school we had to stay inside at recess and add or substract numbers.

To this day I can't stand arithmetic! Heh! So I can emphathize with this young person. I was her at one time.

I saw a cartoon the other day I cut out and put on the bulletin board at the school where I work.

A cat was rating a dog's drawings (the cartoon is called Get Fuzzy or something like that). The cat said "I give this one 4 stars."

The dog says "Is that good?" The cat says "That's out of 10 stars."

Then the cat says "I give this picture 10 stars." The dogs says "Wow! That's good!" The cat says "No, that's out of 100 stars."

Finally the cat says "And I give THIS picture ZERO stars." To which the dog says "Out of how many possible?"

And, of course, I had to think about it for a moment.....

Take care!

Oh man, Russell, so did I! (kicks at dirt with toe of shoe.)

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