When I was in school, I turned to my dad for help with math homework.  My dad is an engineer and, therefore, very good at math.  Sometimes a little too good.  I vividly remember looking at him like he had two heads when he showed me algebra to solve a word problem in the fourth grade.  “Daddy, we don’t use letters in math,” I protested while he tried to explain variables.

What always made me laugh, though, was how he would have to read the chapter in my textbook before helping me.  In my mind, he was a genius and shouldn’t need a refresher on geometry.

I get it now.

My stepson turns to me for help with his math homework and on a number of occasions I’ve asked for his textbook or class notes.  Sometimes it’s so I can see what method the teacher is instructing them to use.  Sometimes it’s a quick refresher.  Sometimes, it’s because he’s learning a completely different process than I ever learned.

His fourth and fifth grade teachers had him drawing what looked like Belgian waffles to solve multiplication problems.  I didn’t understand that method until the teacher demonstrated it on parent night at the school.  To me it seemed overly complicated.  The teacher even admitted she made an error and reached the wrong answer.

For one recent assignment, my stepson had to pick two different ways to solve a problem then explain which was better.  As I coaxed him into remembering one method, I was stumped to think of another way to solve it.  Then he said, “I know!  Mats.”

“Like doormats?”  I asked, still perplexed.

“You know, mats.  With the dots.  And you move them into the box and pair them.”  I must have looked bewildered because he said, “Here, I’ll show you how.” 

I wonder if I ever did that to my dad.