Maths

It's no secret that my math skills are somewhat lackluster.

I could make the claim that I had crummy teachers during my early education, or that I'm very right-brained, and I'm sure both are some part of why I have so little math ability. But to be honest, the majority of the gap in my knowledge is simply because I dislike the subject. True, much of that dislike has to do with a fourth grade teacher who openly mocked me in front of the class when I struggled during a quiz, but if I had made the effort, I probably could have overcome my aversion. I simply decided it was easier to ignore the halfhearted efforts of my math teachers and concentrate my efforts on more interesting subjects.

I like to inflate my self-esteem by shifting the focus to my creative skills. My vindication for my pathetic inability to perform more than the most basic math skills was my amazing, award-winning novels. Okay, so my novels haven't won any awards yet. Okay again, so I haven't actually completed even my first novel. Regardless, I take pride in writing and proofing, as well as my rudimentary music and artistic skills, and I research continually to improve my grammar and word choice.

Still, there are moments I feel a pang of embarrassment about my preteen level math skills. Usually this happens when lack of sleep or distraction serves to emphasize my deficit in a noticeable way, such as by causing me to pause for an unreasonable span of time while making change for a customer. (During my good moments I usually can do simple addition and subtraction in my head, as well as a small amount of multiplication and division.) Usually, however, I succeed in camouflaging these pauses so no one realizes I'm secretly attempting to subtract $3.70 from $20.00, while pretending I'm really pausing to express interest in how their day went.

There are moments, still, when my ignorance is about as subtle as the giant Citgo sign glowering over Fenway. Today was a prime example of one of these moments. I surprised my dad with a hug, congratulating him on his five-year anniversary of remission. Later, my mom found me and, kindly, pointed out that 2012 - 2008 = four. Um. Oops.

My only consolation was that my father, the literal genius, with a bachelor of mathematics and habit of performing equations for entertainment, made the same mistake.

I decided the kind action was not to point out his mistake to him. After all, a math major messing up on simple subtraction is as embarrassing as an English major mixing up who and whom.

Oh wait: I do that all the time.