When all you want is for them to learn.

Let’s make this clear: Additional Maths is tough.

 

Ordinary maths is tiresome and requires more stamina, concentration, and speed; but I don’t consider it tough. But Add Maths is the real deal. Not only are there alphabets, the numbers float around and it’s supposed to mean something.

It meant a fear of failing for me.

 

 

A typical lesson would involve the teacher introducing the topic, demonstrating a few fundamental problems, then giving us exercises to do on our own. We would have to do some in class so that if we had trouble, we could raise our little hands up in the air and declare “I surrender, kill me now; and spare me the pain”

 

Ok, that’s a teensy wee bit exaggerated.

 

 

In my final year of school, I had an equally tough teacher teaching us this very tough subject. Well, she had to be tough in order to be teaching the subject. Then of course, there was us.

 

No, we weren’t evil or bizarrely stupid or anything; we were……well……full of life. Think Mallory Towers in the days of the squeaky biscuit. I was the girl who was found to be acting out Shakespearean plays up in the attic…..err, not quite.

 

So anyway, back to the subject at hand, which is our tough teacher. She was pretty tough, took no nonsense from us girls, and refused to hear our whines and pleas for help. In fact, she reveled in our desperation. The kind of parent who would kick their child into the river in order to teach them to swim. Except this was Additional Maths, and the only water was the tears we silently cried as one exercise after another was flourished upon us.

 

This teacher, well, she wasn’t cruel in any way. In fact, she tried her best to be supportive and encouraging. She would always assure us that we shouldn’t worry about making mistakes in class as long as we didn’t make them during exams.

 

Certain phrases you should take note of:

i.                     Making mistakes in class

ii.                   Don’t make mistakes during exams. (see how a threat is carefully woven here?)

 

Now as for (i), the reason why she always had to assure us of that is because she would write out the sums (is that what it’s called?) on the board, and call out names to go solve them in front. Mind you, this is Add Maths y’awlll!!! She expected us to just saunter up in front and conjure up the necessary answers to the problem. Whoaaaaaa…..

 

It was a point to be made that she would never scold us for getting the stuff wrong, which was a relief for people who got scoldings every half an hour. However, as pubescent females, we were very conscious of screwing up in front of our peers.

 

But to me, the most bizarre effect of this situation was upon the teacher herself. Mind you, it was almost every lesson that she made us do it. And mind you, it was without fail that we would struggle with it. Especially some of us. Some of us who, you know, weren’t so good at the mathematical alphabets and such.

 

Now this teacher, would stand in the middle of the class, which coincidentally was under a fan, and also coincidentally where I sat, so I would have full effect of her reactions.

 

So the scene would go something like this:

i.                     She writes the sums on the board.

ii.                   She walks to her spot in the middle of the class.

iii.                  She “randomly” calls students to go to the board and solve the problems.

iv.                 We groan and protest.

v.                   She ignores us.

vi.                 She waits while each called-upon child frantically tries to solve the sums in their scribble book. Friends usually offer help or support, depending on what the friend is capable of.

vii.                She impatiently clicks her tongue and tells us to just go and do it in front.

viii.              We tell her “Wait, let us get the answers first”

ix.                 She says “Go and get the answers in front. Don’t go about doing the same problem twice”

x.                   She starts counting.

xi.                 The called upon students scramble to the front and start to painfully complete the answers.

 

 

And here’s the interesting bit: Despite the fact that she knows we are struggling with the problems, as we are vocally protesting whilst our reluctant wrists flick away at the board, part of her still expects a miracle to happen each time. And as the seconds tick by, it dawns on her time and again that it would not be that day for the miracle to occur. She would then start to fan herself (remember I told you she would already be standing under the big classroom fan?), then after more minutes pass and she knows she has to admit defeat as the poor scared souls standing in front helplessly claw numbers and symbols onto the board in an attempt to please her, she would raise her hand and cup her forehead. Then, in her most defeated tone, she would mutter under her breath, “God help y’all”

 

None of my other classmates ever heard this, as she was careful of how she worded things to us. But I found it hilarious. Obviously, she took her duties seriously. She was an educator because of the virtue of the profession, not just because it helped to feed her family at home. It was noble of her. But really madam, what do you expects when you ask us to solve those alphabets as though they mean something? Alphabets belong in a soup!

 

 

 

 

Such were the thoughts of a teenaged mind. Now that I have grown up, I catch myself having my own “God help y’all” moments. Each time I do, I tip my hat to my old Add Maths teacher.