Numbers and Everything Related to It

I remember trying to memorize the multiplication tables when I was small, trying my hardest to remember it all but when it eventually fails I opt for the next best method, by cheating. I used to be a below average student, often not being interested in the homework or studies that I had to do. Since I didn't do it by myself my mother became my tutor, over the weekend she will make sure that I got my homework done, which included remembering my multiplication tables. Having always been bad at anything to do with numbers I opted to write the multiplications in the palm of my hand and recite the whole thing to her while she was busy ironing the clothes. I would quickly recite what was written on my hand in fear that she would turn around and catch me reading from the palm of my hand.


While at the time I always thought that I was clever and stealthy, my mother happened to be cleverer. She would immediately know when I was pulling a fast one on her. She would turn around and then tell me to open my hand and when I do she starts to fume after seeing my palm scribbled with all the numbers that I could possibly write on it. By then I know very well what is waiting for me for the next 10 minutes. A good round of beating for cheating. While I would initially swear I would never do it again, the same time the week after I would attempt the same.

For a reason I cannot fathom I was never able to properly master the art of learning my multiplication tables. Maybe I was not mathematically gifted or maybe I was lazy, either way mathematics and I never really got on.

While I know that mathematics is the method to unravel the mysteries of the universe, maybe I was never meant to be a decipherer of those secrets. I did however enjoy the occasional unsolvable equations that I used to get while doing my studies and after hours, I finally get an answer but only to realize later that it is not the correct one.

Of course this caused concern for my parents, because their ultimate nightmare, the nightmare of any Asian parent for the matter, was that I would fail my exams.

I remember each time we had a parent-teachers day I would dread going to it and more so because of the fact that I would have to face my mathematics teacher with my parents and suffer through the abhorrent looks my parents shot my way while my teacher went on about how badly I was performing at maths.

There were some teachers who actually made maths easier for me like Ms. Clarice, a sweet old lady who one time was scolding us while handing out toffees that she had gotten during one of her countless trips to visit her sons in Canada. But then there were others such as my 5th grade teacher (who's name escapes me) who made me hate maths for the way she used to shout at everyone who was not very good at it. But eventually I scraped through my ordinary level exams thinking that I would never have to deal with that horrid subject ever again but soon I realized that you can never really get away from it, but you could certainly put some distance between it and you.

My relationship with mathematics is not a lover's story, it's a story similar to that of a married couple. While I live I have no choice but to put up with it, not because I love it but because I need it. Ultimately I won't be able to live without it.


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