Don’t Teach Your Daughter to Drive Either

Teaching math is not just what I do. Teaching math is who I am.

Teaching math is a source of pride to me, a craft if you will. Some people can build a canoe or do a backflip. I can teach math.

I can teach math to low income students at the community college; I can teach math to privileged kids at a private day school. I can teach math one on one or in large lecture halls. Wake me up at two in the morning and I can teach math.

I can’t teach physics or Spanish or any other subject. I can’t build a canoe or do a backflip, but I can teach math to anybody any time anywhere.

I love to teach math. I love the “aha!” moments when my students get it. I love it when my students understand a concept for the first time. I love it when my students feel good about learning math and feel good about themselves as a result. And if I may be forgiven for being proud, I love being able to teach math with more patience and more understanding than almost anybody else.

So imagine my consternation when my own daughter came to me with the following math question:

x + 3 = – 5

This is a tough concept to teach, but after so many years, I feel pretty good about my ability to explain it. To anybody. Like I said.

Here’s what I was going to say: “Put a negative three on both sides of the equal sign. An equal sign is like a balance scale. Negative three is the same as negative three.” Then I was going to talk about how to add two negative numbers together. “Negative three plus negative five is like when the temperature is three degrees below zero and then gets five degrees colder.” I was going to draw a number line and give more examples.

Except that I only got as far as “Puh.”

Not the whole word “put” as in “put the negative three on both sides of the equal sign.” Just “Puh.” I had only got as far as “puh” before my daughter interrupted and said, “That’s not the way we learn it in school” and left the room. In tears.

So I had a couple choices. My first thought was to chase after her screaming, “People pay me hundreds of dollars to teach math! I’ve been teaching math for decades! I can teach math to anybody! Come back here! You’re out of the will!”

My other choice was to take the dog for a long walk.

I’m proud to say that I chose the dog walk.

I am less proud to say that I gave a lot of thought to the psychotic, raving, screaming choice before going to get the leash. I’m thinking that any dad who has ever tried to teach his kid some math can share my feeling.

***

If my choice is for me to teach my daughter math or to pay someone else to do it, I’d prefer to teach her myself. I wish we had the kind of relationship where dad and daughter could sit down together and learn math.

But we don’t.

So instead, I pay someone else to teach my daughter math. (Taxes for the public schools, tuition for the private schools, tutors. One way or another, we pay.)

I also pay for someone else to teach my children physics and Spanish. If there were time in the day, I’d pay someone to teach my daughter how to build a canoe or do a backflip.

Note that teaching your daughter how to do math is different from teaching your daughter to put gas in the car or to take out the garbage. Chores around the house are non-negotiable. Everyone has to pitch in, do her share. Learning math is not optional; teaching your daughter math is.

There are many examples of “false choice” in education and in parenting.

I would rather have my kids read Virgil in the original Latin than in an English translation. The advantages of knowing Latin are legendary: an understanding of the structure of language, an impressive familiarity with the roots of English, a connection with an important culture, the list goes on.

But having students read Latin in the original versus reading English translations isn’t my choice.

My choice is to have my kids read Latin in translation or not at all.

Here again, my choice is clear. Of course, I’d much rather have the kids know something of the culture and literature than nothing.

I look forward to hearing your stories of how you were able to “teach your wife to drive.” Or not.