Good-at-Math
1) Are you good at math?
How long did it take you to come up with an answer?
2) Are you good at reading?
Which question, the math one or the reading one, feels natural, and which one feels a little bit awkward?
Just notice.
Math and art have long been my favorite subjects. I love the playful quality of problem solving. My earliest math memory is feeling elated when learning fractions. They made perfect sense to me. I delight in symmetry and pattern. Sure, I struggled a little with long division (and other algorithms that one must learn through memorization and repetition), but understanding the WHY behind numbers feels natural and right, so I swim through the subject like a fish in water. I even like taking big math tests and, with a few notable exceptions (the stuff of future posts), perform very well on them. When I hit geometry, my teacher offered extra credit, and my term grade exceeded 100%. I took all the hardest math classes, and enjoyed them, then went to college to study physics and chemistry, where I had to use extra math, like multivariate calculus, statistics, and linear algebra. Those supplemental math classes were consistently the best grades on my report card.
Does this sound like good-at-math to you?
Because I experienced EASE and JOY in my math learning from a young age, and because all external metrics rewarded my efforts, it was easy to identify as SMART and GOOD-AT-MATH.
Reading, on the other hand… what a slog. My best friend in first grade used to come home and wonder to her mom, “Why does Kate have to go read with the dumb kids.” (Be generous with my little friend. She was only 7, and this was the 80s).
In 6th grade, my genuinely kind and well-intended teacher tapped me on the shoulder during silent reading time and whispered this hot tip in my ear, “Don’t read with your finger, Kate. It makes you look stupid.” She was just trying to help.
In college, I completed a double major in chemistry and physics without EVER ONCE reading from the textbook. I had no idea that was unusual.
As a young teacher, I did a research project on dyslexia for professional development, and when I learned that the dyslexic brain reads every single letter sequentially, I thought to myself… “Wait, isn’t this how EVERYBODY reads?” Only I probaply would have written it everypody, pecause I consistently confuse my bs and ps (even still).
Am I good-at-reading?
I don’t know. How do you define good-at-reading?
I read! I am literate. I write, every day! I read books, usually for information, sometimes for pleasure. Not as many and not as quickly as my friends, but I remember what I have read better and for longer than most people do. There are tools that most people don’t need that help me a lot, like dyslexic fonts, and my index finger. (Reclaiming that finger-reading in my 30s!!!) And reading feels like hard work. I experience EFFORT in reading, and if reading were a race, I would lose every time.
Good thing reading isn’t a race!
Neither is math.
I am not good at math or bad at math. I experience ease and joy in playing with numbers. I am not good at reading or bad at reading. I experience effort and challenge when I read, and it is very often worth it. When it isn’t worth it, I close the book after 50 pages and send it back to the library. Life’s too short!
I am capable of learning.
So are you.
I am LITERATE. I am NUMERATE.
So are you.
I can practice what’s hard and make it easier.
So can you.
I am a good person regardless of the perfection of my calculations or my spelling.
So are you.
It’s unconventional, I know, but I encourage you to notice where you’re tying WHAT YOU CAN DO, or HOW EASY IT FEELS to WHO YOU ARE. Tease it all out:
The things you do.
The ease and effort of doing.
Your precious and perfect self.
This is how we learn what’s easy. This is how we learn what’s hard.