A colleague mentioned to me the other day his frustration in teaching kids advanced math, a skill which the system requires, but which teaches them so little about life. I am reminded of my own high school math classes and of the hours of frustration. I have never found a use for math beyond balancing my checkbook and purchasing wood to build my home.
I was once tempted to stop the story there and leave a silent self righteousness behind. But one of my young rowers is exceedingly good at math. He thrills to solving difficult equations. Yet he runs screaming from the room should I happen to even begin to recite one of the dozens of poems that I have memorized since childhood. These poems have been solace to me for decades. How can anyone distain them as I distained math?
I wonder how long it will take the school system, worldwide, to figure out that one size doesn’t fit all.
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