I’m good at math. I’ve posted previously about living in a house full of math people, which I do; and I’ll be honest, I have nothing on them when it comes to math, but I am good at it. Although I’ve always been good at math, I’ve never much cared for it.
I didn’t think much about it, but I guess that must have surprised my mom – that I don’t like math despite being good at it. She’s great at math, and she loves it. So I can understand why it probably surprised her that I didn’t enjoy something I was good at.
I was similarly surprised recently. TG, who is beyond good at math, told me that she doesn’t like it. I was shocked. How can she not like math? She’s so good at it.
Then I thought about my likes and dislikes.
I like English. I’m even good at it. But if you were to look at any of my standardized tests when I was in school, you probably would have assumed I liked math. I scored much better on the math things than I did on the English things. But English was in my soul while math was not, and that continues today.
I’m good at math, but it doesn’t bring me joy. It doesn’t make me want to learn more about it. It doesn’t ooze from my pores. Trust me; I grew up with a math wizard and I live with one and two in training. I know what math oozing from pores looks like. English, however does.
So I guess it might be the same for TG (although she may be in denial – I’m not sure yet). I guess while she is exceptional at math (and I’m not just bragging here), maybe it doesn’t bring her joy.
You know what does?
Art. She loves to create crafts and movies and pictures and animation.
I can see a future for her that nicely combines her facility in math with her love of art. She doesn’t see it quite yet, but I bet she will.
And I know there’s hope, because the way I approach a text is mathematical if nothing else.