There are
many precise details I don’t remember from over fifty years ago but I do recall
the key points. Combining memory with surmise, I assume, as occurs for many
teachers, Mr Philips had found himself with some time to kill towards the end
of the day and improvised. I think he chose me first and suddenly demanded that
I tell him the result of six times seven, or some similar sum.
No doubt in
many schools, where the times tables were learned by rote, I’d have been equipped
to answer that question automatically and robotically… possibly. Our head
teacher inspired a more progressive approach, which as time was to prove provided
advantages and disadvantages in equal measure. For that reason, when this
question was thrown at me, I wouldn’t have been able to recall, if asked, the
last time that I’d wrestled with the dilemma of which number would be reached
should I combine groups of six seven times over, or vice versa. Befuddled by
surprise and panic I blurted out an answer that could have been ‘thirty’. (I
wish I’d had the wherewithal of one of my own students, years later, who
himself didn’t recall the answer but astutely replied ‘a number’.*) Mr Philips
ordered me to stand up and then began asking the other children in the class to
answer similar sums.
Maybe I had
missed something in previous classes, or perhaps forewarned by what had
happened to me, my classmates answered carefully and with the exception of one
of the girls in the class, did so correctly. As the questions flew around the
room, I had time to summon up the number that would become so significant in
years to come thanks to ‘Hitchhikers guide to the Galaxy’. The unfortunate girl
was admonished for giving the wrong answer, as was I more severely for making a
‘wild guess’.
Perhaps it
was because, even though at the time I wouldn’t have been able to verbalise it,
not having much respect for Mr Philips, meant I didn’t let that negative
experience (and others unleashed by other teachers) permanently quash my
enthusiasm for mathematics, though as you can see the memory of that humiliation,
though not completely exact has survived half a century.
I outlined
this event because it seems to me that virtually every one of us in the course
of our education has had a negative experience of maths and depending on the
timing and intensity of this, along with our resilience at the time, this leads
to many children – and then adults – passionately either hating the subject, thinking
that they are no good at it, or both. Although I’ve mainly worked with children
in my role of a teacher, I’ve also worked with several adults, every one of
which told me, ‘I can’t do maths’ before I began working with them. This
included a woman who worked as a senior accountant and patently managed numbers
pretty well. ‘Well, that doesn’t count…”
Actually,
the accountant’s view reveals another problem with ‘maths’ – it’s a very
diverse subject. Being so diverse it’s inevitable that most of us will have aspects
of mathematics that are a closed book for us. (For me it’s logarithms, however
hard I try to remain tangle-free they quickly tie me in knots.) Even Einstein
was alleged to have the mathematical equivalent of dyslexia. I remember working
with a boy who was considered to be poor at maths – and he did find many
aspects of the subject baffling – but who was brilliant at understanding the
most complex aspects of geometry, easily dealing with challenges that would
have had the rest of us scratching our heads.
I think it
was this dual dilemma concerning maths that encouraged me to do my best to
write stories, sketches and poems aimed at making the subject more accessible,
creative… and fun. I don’t know how successful I’ve been at doing that but I
guess the main reason I wanted to write this is to reiterate, as if you didn’t
know already, that the unlikeliest topics can be a source of ideas for writing.
I’ve been most excited when, after hearing my seven and eight times table poems,
some children have spontaneously had a go at writing four times table poems
etc. or after I’ve suggested the idea of a ‘times table dance’ with movement
for each number the children have worked on their own choreography or
unexpectedly came across a child playing an animated adventure set in space on a
computer that I had written. I hope these children at least had a more positive
experience of learning mathematics.
*Though
thinking about it, as Mr Philips patently didn’t have a sense of humour that would
possibly have worsened my predicament.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I
co-authored a series of books for teachers with educator Simon Hickton. They
contain stories etc. along with teaching resources for each piece.
Using
stories to teach maths Age 4 to 7 ISBN 9781909860025
Using
stories to teach maths Age 7 to 9 ISBN 9781909860018
Using
stories to teach maths Age 9 to 11ISBN 9781909860001
Published by Hopscotch Books (hopscotchbooks.com)
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