Dear First Grade Math,
I want to begin this letter by telling you that I have been trying to understand you since September. Six months. I have given you six months of my life. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. I pull you out of my son’s backpack every evening, blink back tears, and work so hard to explain you to my child. My son and I both want to accept you. We both understand that we need you in our lives. You’re important, First Grade Math. We know that adding and subtracting is a valuable life skill and we have no choice but to allow you to enter our home. We want to like you. We really do. But you make it so. Fucking. Hard.
What? You want examples of the ways you make us miserable? Ok.
1. Word problems. Word problems in first grade. Are you kidding me? My kid just started reading for real last week. When I say “for real” I mean he finally started looking at the words and sounding them out instead of making shit up and guessing. So guess who has been reading your word problems, First Grade Math? That’s right. Me. I thought I was done with school. I graduated college. I went to a real, accredited university. I wrote papers and everything. I thought I was smart. Sitting next to my kid and trying to explain your word problems has shown me that those four years of college were a HUGE waste of money. I’m a total dumb ass. Remember your word problem about the frogs on the lily pad and how it almost made me cry? “If ten frogs are on a lily pad and two jump off, seven frogs jump back on, three drown and twelve more jump on the lily pad, how many frogs in total are on the lily pad?” Too many fucking frogs. I had a long day at work and now I have to help my kid calculate frogs? Thanks, First Grade Math. You suck.
2. Does my kid really need to know that I’ve always been terrible at math? Does my kid really need to know that I still sometimes use my fingers to add the frogs and other shit you stick in your word problems? No. No he doesn’t. Thanks for exposing me for the dummy that I’ve always been.
3. Math has changed so much since I was in school. You weren’t supposed to change, First Grade Math. You weren’t supposed to become more complicated. When I was in school, 12+3=15. Boom. Done. Now you want us to show every single number combination that will equal 15. You throw in number lines, charts, graphs, etc. You want DNA samples and clothing fibers. Why are you making our relationship so much more complicated, First Grade Math? 12+3 still equals 15. Leave it alone.
4. You create more drama in my house than a paternity test on The Maury Povich Show. As soon as your presence has been announced, children cry, dogs hide and parents drink. Why do you insist on being such a nightmare? Why did you pick first grade to rear your ugly head? When I was in school, shit didn’t get real until at least the fourth grade! Thanks for making us doubt our parenting skills sooner rather than later. You rock.
Honestly? I wish we could break up. I wish we could quit you. But I know that we can’t. We have to stick with this relationship. I have to make sure my son graduates from college and finds himself a career that doesn’t involve asking people if they would like fries with that. In order to help my son, I need you,at least through June of this year. After June, you’ll be replaced with Second Grade Math. Then Third Grade Math. I will suffer through each of these relationships until I die a slow and horrible mathematical death. I will suffer for the benefit of my child. You may have the upper hand now, First Grade Math, but mark my words. I will learn all your ways by the end of this school year. You’re going down. As soon as I stop crying over these damn frogs on their lily pad.
Sincerely,
Katie