Sorry, Wegner.

For my math tutoring class, I was asked to write a short essay describing an event (or series of events) that shaped my education in math and writing. This is the half of my essay pertaining to math. The ending is weak, but give me a break. It's 3am. Enjoy.

Dictionary.com defines mathematics as “the study of the measurement, properties, and relationships of quantities and sets, using numbers and symbols.” By age 15, I had come up with my own definition for math: “waste of time.” I had always excelled in math, which probably contributed to my lack of interest. I learned concepts very quickly and needed much less practice than the other students to master them. During the second half of math class, after the lesson had been taught and the other children were doing practice problems, I was sitting at my desk writing notes or doodling. In addition to not being challenged, I honestly saw little use for mathematics in my daily life. Sure, simple arithmetic was a necessary skill, but when would I ever need to calculate the sine of 30 degrees? I was certainly not anticipating a career in carpentry, so most of what I’d learned so far in high school math seemed utterly useless.

Upon completion of Honors Geometry my freshman year, I was introduced to the new and exciting world of Algebra 2. And by “exciting,” I of course mean “incredibly boring and intolerably pointless.” To me, Algebra was nothing but another class to endure if one wanted to get into a good college. Little did I know what awaited me inside room 115.

Ms. Wegner was a stout older woman with thick glasses and an unfortunate dye-job. Equally as unfortunate was her wardrobe. My 10th grade math teacher alternated her attire between brightly-colored pant suits with thick, square shoulder-pads and pastel flower-patterned skirts with Jesus-style sandals. Every once in a while she’d mix and match her suit jacket with one of her skirts. The resulting clash of colors and patterns was a seizure waiting to happen.

The only thing more disappointing than Ms. Wegner’s physical appearance was her teaching ability (or lack thereof). Not only was her lesson-planning poor and her style hard to follow, but much of the time what she wrote on the board was just downright incorrect. Despite her degree, I was convinced that the only matrix Ms. Wegner knew anything about was the one starring Keanu Reeves. While I think we can all agree that that Matrix would be a far more interesting topic to explore, most of the class was a bit concerned at our teacher’s apparent ignorance in algebraic concepts. They needed someone more competent to take initiative and lead the way to better mathematical understanding. I became their Morpheus.

To be fair, there were a few of us. About four, I would say, who stepped up in this time of need to help our fellow classmates. We understood the material despite the obvious obstacles, and were practically worshiped by the other students. This felt good. This felt very good. Each day we would sit through Ms. Wegner’s lecture while the rest of the class basically ignored everything she said. Once she’d finished babbling, we would re-teach the lesson to the other students in a way that was much more comprehensible, and correct.

The entire experience was incredibly rewarding, especially when test time rolled around. I’d never felt more appreciated in my life. It was then that I began to develop a true passion for mathematics in a way I never would’ve imagined. I looked forward to difficult chapters not only so that I could be challenged, but because I knew my classmates would come to me for help. I’d found my calling, and have been finding ways to help other students in math ever since.