Learning Math in Public Schools of Las Vegas

Tommy was confused.

His third-grade teacher droned on and on about whole numbers and how important they were.

Tommy raised his hand shyly, “Why are they called whole numbers?”

“They are called whole numbers, Tommy, because that is what the mathematician decided they should be called.”

“But positive numbers have negative numbers. Is that why we call it whole numbers, because there are part numbers too?”

The other children in the class giggled.

“You are not yet ready to learn about that. First, you have to learn whole numbers. Your teacher next year will teach you about other numbers.”

“But…”

The bell rang for recess. The other kids taunted Tommy, “Math nerd, math nerd, Tommy is a math nerd!” Then they rushed off to play basketball without him.

Tommy did his homework, all the while confused. He memorized the concept, without understanding it fully, expecting that someday someone would explain it to him since neither his teacher nor his math book would.

Sure enough, in fifth grade, another teacher finally taught about part numbers. She called them fractions. “Fractions are also called rational numbers,” she added.

Tommy was confused. Why call them rational? If rational means sane, shouldn’t there also be crazy, or insane, numbers? Why not just call them fractions? Why the other name?

Tommy did not want the other kids to make fun of him, so he did not raise his hand. Instead, he would ask the teacher at her desk after class.

“You are not yet ready to learn about that yet,” his teacher said. “First, you have to learn fractional numbers. You’ll learn about that in the years to come. For now, just remember that fractions and rational numbers are the same thing.”

In the age before the Internet and Wikipedia, Tommy had nowhere else to turn without spending hours at the library, so Tommy waited two more years to learn about irrational numbers. His seventh grade teacher explained that irrational numbers, such as pi, could not be a ratio or a fraction. If it was this simple, why didn’t his fifth grade teacher explain it? Didn’t she know?

In seventh grade, the teacher mentioned real numbers. She said that real numbers were all numbers on the number line.

Tommy was confused.

After a long night wondering about real numbers, Tommy stood in front of his teacher’s desk, with the nagging question. “I thought numbers on the number line were called integers, whole numbers, fractions, positive numbers, and negative numbers. Why are they now also called real numbers?”

The teacher looked up at him with dead, empty eyes.

Tommy clarified, “If there are real numbers, shouldn’t there be fake numbers too?”

“Have a seat Tommy. My teacher’s guide doesn’t explain it. I think you’ll learn more about other numbers in later math classes like Trigonometry or Calculus – if you take those classes.”

Tom enjoyed the games that math presented. He continued to take math as an elective, even after the requirement ended. His teachers’ failure to explain the underlying principles left him flummoxed.

At long last, five years later, Tom learned the reason. “Real numbers are real because some numbers are imaginary,” his calculus teacher explained. Imaginary numbers are square roots of negative numbers.

If it was so simple, why couldn’t the seventh grade teacher explain it? Didn’t she know? No, she did not.

Years out of school, Thomas’s persistent pursuit of knowledge paid off. He became a successful attorney despite the constant confusion created by well-meaning, but under-prepared educators. Unfortunately, there are not enough Jaime Escalantes in the teaching universe who make math interesting, applicable to life, and instill motivation for further exploration.

Years later, while visiting Wal-Mart, the checkout clerk squinted at Thomas, “Didn’t I see you on the news last night? You’re a lawyer?”

After a few seconds, Thomas recognized one of the classmates that had called him a math nerd. “Yep, guilty,” said the attorney, “not my client, though.”

The clerk tried to scan the crackerjack box, “Ahem, the register ain’t working. Let me go get my manager.”

“It’s ok.” Thomas handed the clerk the exact change for his purchase. The clerk could not mentally calculate sales tax on a one dollar item. “I’ll see you later.”

“I need to get a manager to authorize use of another register to print a receipt.”

“No, its ok. I have somewhere to be.”

Thomas strode to the exit. A familiar old lady with dead, empty eyes raised her wrinkled hand to halt him at the door. “I need to mark your receipt, sir.”

Thomas handed her the crackerjacks he just purchased. “Nevermind, I need to get to court,” he said impatiently. He left, the store a dollar-seven short and empty handed.

On the way to his car, Thomas thought about the many years of free education that his former classmate and school teacher each had, yet they both worked at Wal-mart.

Thomas was confused.