Mrs. Marshall was my Math teacher. I think she was somewhere around 60 years old. I felt bad she hadn't been granted that glorious age of "39-And-Holding" as Grandmother had been. However, I think I know why that gift hadn't been bestowed upon Mrs. Marshall. I mean, why lengthen the life of someone who taught Math?
And this was the year of multiplication.
Ah, yes. It was time to memorize numbers. Not the rules for Four Square or Chicken. Isn't that fantabulous?
I didn't understand the concept. How did 7 x 7 equal 49? I had no idea, which only served to prove there was nothing logical about Math. It seemed people just tossed numbers around and thought, "Hmmm.....why don't we make 4 x 8 equal 32?"
It was a nightmare. And I was awake for it. And Mrs. Marshall loved it. And the kids around me understood it. But I didn't.
Once, I actually raised my hand and told Mrs. Marshall I didn't understand. She huffed and puffed at me, but explained. I didn't have the guts to tell her I still didn't get it.
Oh, well. Thankfully, I had a good memory. It took some time, but I memorized my times tables. I filed them away in the part of my brain that is titled, "Just Learn It So I Can Get On With The Good Stuff".
As an adult, I use that section a lot more than I should.