Public humiliation+crappy teachers+math disability=this post

Note: The image you see with this post is one I created to show you, dear readers, the original Depressionista-created math survival strategy. This is how I viewed numbers (sometimes even altering them on the page for ease) so that I could count up the dots and add or subtract them without having to use my fingers. Each number had a dot pattern that would equal its value. This, my friends, is an image of desperation!)

It's no secret to those who know me that I have problems with math, that I have always had problems with math. One of the most liberating and wonderful things about being an adult is that I am rarely asked and even more rarely required to use my head to do math, and that I am never subjected to a "time test."

When I think about my math career it is a series of traumatic moments, beginning with the horror of the first math worksheet I ever got. I was in first grade, and I still remember exactly what it looked like--probably because I spent the better part of an hour just staring at it not knowing what to do. It had a green jungle-themed border on the top of the page and continuing down the right side, at which point a colorful parrot was perched in the foliage.

I remember having to play "Around the World." Are you all familiar with this ritual act of humiliation game in which a student is chosen to start, stands next to the first desk in the row, the teacher presents a flashcard and whoever answers correctly first gets to move to the next desk. The loser sits down in shame.

For awhile, I hated this game with a passion, becoming increasingly anxious as the "traveler" got closer and closer to my seat, hoping against hope that maybe the problem would be one that I knew, and then every time being shot down by the math whiz who was arrogantly hopping from desk to desk. It only took me a couple years to realize that I shouldn't invest so much emotional energy into the whole thing, and from that point on, I simply stood up, let the other person answer, then sat down again and daydreamed for the rest of the game.

Then there was junior high. I got through my entire 8th grade year of math by copying the assignments of a tangential acquaintance who for some reason allowed me to to do this. I failed the tests, but my homework was enough to carry me through.

In high school, I took the required year of algebra before grasping hungrily to the bone thrown out by our guidance counselor, who told me that's all I needed to graduate. Even though he knew I was going on to the university, he never told me I would need more math to get in. I realized this on my own during my junior year, so I took Algebra II in my senior year. It was hard pill to swallow, let me tell you--sitting in a room full of juniors at the end of the day while my fellow seniors had early release. I believe it was Algebra II when I got my first and only "Progress Report," letting my parents know I was failing. I went tearfully to Mr. Townsley and begged him to give me a D with the promise that I would bring the grade up the next semester--which I did, by having hour-long tutoring sessions from my sister EVERY NIGHT. When I took the ACT test, I got a 13 on the math section.

The final math trauma of my student years was in college. The university let me in on the condition that I complete a high school-level geometry course, for no credit, before I could graduate. No problem, right? I didn't worry much about it until my last year, at which point I signed up for a correspondence course thinking I would just do it on my own. Yeah, right. That was $300 of my parents' money down the drain. Finally, I was done with everything....except that geometry course. I ended up taking it over the summer, with much tumultuous tutoring from my explosive math genius brother, and finally graduating a semester late.

I always thought I was just dumb. No math teacher ever looked at me as a challenge but instead either showed actual distaste for having me in their class or regarded me as invisible (interestingly, almost all my English teachers really liked me). While students who were having trouble reading were sent off to "remedial reading" and got extra help during class, I floundered, seemingly alone as everyone, even the "average" math students, soared beyond me.

We've all heard of dyslexia, and I suppose that would be a bigger problem to deal with. People with that disorder probably have all kinds of horror stories about having to write papers or read out loud in class, and reading and writing is usually pretty essential once you get out of school, unlike math, which you can really avoid quite well if you want to.

Until recently, I never realized that I have a disorder too, that I'm not just dumb. It's called dyscalculia, and here are the symptoms, with comments added by me.

•Good at speaking, reading, and writing, but slow to develop counting and math problem-solving skills. Yes. I now work as an editor and write here and other places for fun.
•Good memory for printed words, but difficulty reading numbers, or recalling numbers in sequence. Yes. I can read numbers alright, but recalling them in a sequence is nearly impossible. Words, no problem.

•Good with general math concepts, but frustrated when specific computation and organization skills need to be used. Hell yes. I completely understand what division is, but please don't ask me to do it.

•Trouble with the concept of time-chronically late, difficulty remembering schedules, trouble with approximating how long something will take. More so lately; don't know if it's dyscalculia or having a two-year-old.

•Poor sense of direction, easily disoriented and easily confused by changes in routine. Yes, yes, yes. J. makes fun of me because I will actually forget what direction to go when coming out of a store in the mall. I have a terrible sense of direction and am frequently lost if I'm left on my own outside of my normal comfort zone.

•Poor long term memory of concepts-can do math functions one day, but is unable to repeat them the next day. Yes! This is why I could do my homework alright, but sucked on every test. I could do 6x7=42 one day but the next day it was like I'd never seen it before. By the way, I had to use the calculator for that little example.
•Poor mental math ability-trouble estimating grocery costs or counting days until vacation. Completely.

•Difficulty playing strategy games like chess, bridge or role-playing video games. I've never played bridge and have no interest in role-playing video games, but I'm an okay amateur chess player.

•Difficulty keeping score when playing board and card games. Yep. Just ask Tingle about playing dominoes with me. They had to go out and buy me the set with the colored tiles just so I could keep up, and at the end of the game, I just pass them over to someone else to add up and just trust that they're not screwing me over.

•Mistaken recollection of names. Poor name/face retrieval. Yes.

•Difficulty grasping the concepts of formal music education. Difficulty sight-reading music. Yes. I love music and have a good ear; I can pick tunes out on the piano pretty easily. But I only lasted one year in band, and it was torture. I pretty much faked my way through it by listening and watching my fellow clarinet students. I never, ever understood sheet music.

It's a developmental disorder. I'm not just dumb. And that's good to know, even though I haven't been required to take a math test in years. The way we think about ourselves is formed, in large part, during those early years in school, and I think part of the way I felt about myself and presented myself was affected by feeling "dumb" in this area, feeling singed out for my failures. It certainly had a big impact on my life--I chose my majors and my career based on the fact that I couldn't do math and I could write. My whole life I've been interested in medical stuff and even thought about becoming a nurse at one point....but of course, the math part of it all scared me away.

For the most part, I'm okay with how things turned out for me--I mean, I'm not a homeless person, I have a good job (although it bores me to tears) and a decent life. But when I do take the time to think about it, I wish a teacher had realized I had a problem, rather than ignoring me or just thinking I was lazy or stupid. Sometimes I wonder where just a little bit of math confidence would have taken me.