Paragraphs and Math

Me. In in our front yard, standing next to our orange tree. Photo taken about 1977.

In Elementary School, probably 3rd or 4th grade, part of the weekly homework was to write a paragraph that included all of the spelling words that had been assigned on Monday. The test and homework were always due at the end of the week. Even though I excelled at reading, comprehension and spelling, I lacked confidence when it came to completing my homework on my own. Thank goodness I was given the most patient grandmother of all time. We would sit at the dining room table, away from any distractions and review the spelling words. We'd talk about the definitions and she'd always say that we needed to put our "Thinking Caps" on. Of course, we had to hold our imaginary caps in our hands and actually do the movements of putting them on our heads. It was a clever way to get a rambunctious little girl to sit still and pay attention. It didn't always work. I didn't care for homework much. I would have rather been outside playing. I'm sure that my teacher knew that my grandma helped me with those paragraphs. They were wildly creative and sometimes far beyond my level of understanding, but we got the job done. I always got A's on my spelling homework, which was no surprise. Sometimes my teacher would write little notes on my homework pages about my stories, I'm sure she was hoping my grandma would see them. I remember that she drew a winking smiley face once. At the time I didn't understand why. Years later, I get it.
Math on the other hand was a complete disaster. I remember being giving the job of passing out math papers in the 1st grade, Miss Kerger's class. I conveniently skipped my desk. I somehow thought that if I didn't get the paper, I would be excused from actually having to do the work. It was just simple addition, 1+2= 3, 2+2= 4, etc... But it scared me. I didn't understand it at all. You would think that I'd have been good at math. My Grandpa was a draftsman, my dad was a machinist, and my Grandma Ann was a bookkeeper. She could calculate large problems in her head, which always amazed me. I could never figure out how she could remember all of those numbers and where they all were at the beginning of the problem. I guess the gift of understanding numbers and equations passed me by. When it comes to cooking though, I can double, triple or halve a recipe with no problem. By the time I was in 3rd grade, I was placed in a remedial math class. When the rest of the class would work on their daily math lessons, I'd take my basic skills book and head to Mrs. Carlisle's room. This lack of interest in excelling in school had to be frustrating to my grandparents. I'm not sure it's what they bargained for when they decided to take on the responsibility of raising me. The good thing is, I did manage to pass each grade.
While Grandma always made sure I did my homework and had the expectation that I would do well in school, she had no trouble taking me out a few days before Thanksgiving vacation actually started. We camped at the beach almost every year for Thanksgiving. She'd also take me out early for Spring break if we had a camping trip planned. It was a tradition every fall to go to the L.A. County Fair. But we never went on a Saturday. I got to be excused from school so that we could go on a weekday. The justification was that a county fair was highly educational. And with my Grandparents, it actually was. Usually, kids think of all of the carnival rides when they imagine going to the fair. Not this kid. We'd spend the entire day looking through the buildings with artwork, photography, needlework and sewing, The livestock barn would take at least an hour to walk through. We'd have numerous conversations throughout the day, all of them a lesson in some way or another. In my mind, they will always be as smart as any of my teachers in grade school. They had life experiences to share and a wonderfully creative way to share them with me.
And yes, I still dislike math. It scares me. *wink*