Friday, 14 June 2013

The Diss-location of Maths

Hooray! GCSE's are over. I can't believe my son is the same age I was (16, 17 in October) as I was when I did Matric at The Art, Ballet, Drama and Music School in Johannesburg. It's been a full on eight weeks with exams, baby and 2 under four and the writing of the book...but here's an imaginary glass of Prosecco to the summer...on the Italian Riviera...sun lounger...waiter in attendance...more bubbly...less troubly...whizzy car to whisk me round the hills to the villa...fridge very filla with fooda...housekeepa...nanny for the nippa...

Today was maths for big son. I dropped that one like a hot potato at the time, but now I regret that I did not 'pull my finger out' as people often suggested, and make an effort with it. I did maths until Standard Five - my final year of junior (primary) school, where we followed a traditional (dictation, composition et al.); no siree or 'mam,' as we had to say ('Bat'mam in some cases) I kept my finger located in the general direction of the arts, and dissed maths in favour of the easy stuff: English, History, Art and plenty of drama, but that is another story. I had the same attitude to the sciences - I did not dislocate my finger for them either - they were not even put on the long finger - they were consigned to history, or for history.

Phwoar! Look at the geometry of that
Amusingly enough I married a man with a PhD in Engineering which takes in maths and the sciences; he is creative too - musical and a great photographer - good at coming up with eccentric, yet stylish outfits for daughter to wear when he dresses her...point being that I really wish I had pulled my finger out, because (partly through him explaining sciencey stuff in an interesting way) I now find science fascinating and feel I have missed out; I am something of a one-legged skier in the academic arena. However Trevor, I shall soon be getting another opportunity when I start homeschooling our daughter. Do you hear the sound of shots firing? That's me toes expiring as I shoot myself in the foot. (Hopefully not).

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