Tag: teaching

  • Helping My Kid with Math Homework

    I don’t know about you, but when I found out that I was going to become a father, I had visions of all kinds of stuff I would do with my kid – like teaching them how to drive, or tucking them into bed, or dropping them off at college. But never in a million years did I ever contemplate in those early days how much time I would spend helping my kid with math homework.

    And to set the record straight from the beginning, my kid is really good at math. Like, it just makes sense to her, and she finds it fun. I am very proud of her.

    Me? I suck at math. I mean, I’m not awful at it, but there is a point where I am very proficient at all things math, and then there is this line, usually involving fractions, that I no longer have a mastery of mathematics, and start getting nervous that I don’t know what I am doing. I first encountered this feeling in 5th grade when everyone in my class seemed to understand how to multiply fractions, and… I didn’t. And it’s not that I felt dumb, it’s that I felt lost, like I didn’t know which way to go to find a solution. It’s a very unsettling feeling.

    I was able to dance around math in junior high, and high school, kept a B average but I had to work at it. Never took a calculus class, though now I wish I would have. I did the very unwise thing in college that I was warned not to do, which was save my final math class for final senior semester. Luckily, my university had a math class for arts majors – it was “Intro to Statistics.” I got a B.

    So, when the kid comes to me for help, there is a little wave of panic that wiggles through me, but I know I am just having a flashback to 5th grade. I am lucky that 4th grade math is completely in my wheelhouse, so in front of my kid, I still appear that I have a mastery on the subject. Though I might not be the best at explaining everything, I do at least come up with the correct answer.

    I know to enjoy this 4th grade year, because when she gets to 5th grade, I will be closing in on that line.

  • Parent/Teacher Day

    It’s Parent/Teacher Day and my kid’s school!

    You know who’s excited about Parent/Teacher Day? My daughter! She dressed me up for it. She wanted me in a sportscoat, and I was happy to oblige her. Instead of having this meeting at night, which I feel is normal for most schools, our school decided to hold this meeting in the day, so the parents could see the kids… you know, in their natural environment?

    For the record, anytime the Parent/Teacher Meeting comes up, I tell the kid that if she’s good, she will get pizza for dinner, and if she’s bad then it’s poison. Then she saw that episode of The Simpsons, and now she gets my joke. She also thinks I’m not that original.

    The meeting was fine. The kids were well behaved, and I like the kid’s teachers as they do a very good job, and the kid loves them. We were shown the progress they have made in their subjects, and what we can do as parents to help them with their school work. All in all, it was a cute hour to spend at her school.

    As I was leaving the school, just walking down the street, I had one of those moments where it washed over me how much “parent” defines my life. Most days I don’t feel like a parent, more like a pretend parent making it up as I go. I am aware that most other parents feel the same way, and in fact, the world is made up of half-assed adults faking their way through parenthood. (It really is a wonder that human civilization has developed as well as it has, being that everyone is faking it…) But on a day like today, I felt like “I am parent,” instead of “I’m trying to be a parent.” That doesn’t mean I feel confident as a parent, just that “I am” one.

    Does that make sense?