Virus has forced us to confront our worst fear: fifth-grade math
Forget speaking in public or death, our greatest fear should be, “Help your fifthgrade child with their math homework.”
Before COVID-19 we all expressed our deepest love and respect for the teachers of the world who go through the glass-smashing process of instructing our children. After COVID-19 we will actually mean it.
Sitting with my daughter for even two minutes to go over her math homework, it all comes back.
The ability to complete the fifth-grade problems is not what returns. What returns are the stomach pains of fear, dread, inadequacy and stupidity. The powers of 10. Fractions. Long division. Word problems. Midpoint formulas. Polynomials.
“Why do I have to do stupid math?! It’s pointless and it doesn’t make any sense!”
These are the words from our daughter, Vivian, but it could have been me decades ago … or now, minutes ago.
I always knew there would come a time when I could not help her with her homework. I hoped to make it to seventh grade. Turns out fifth graduation is in doubt because I may not pass math.
The first question asks: “The Garcia family started the day with 2 gallons of milk. They drank one quart of milk for breakfast and three pints for lunch. How many pints of milk did the Garcia family have left after lunch?”’
I have questions. Why are the Garcias drinking this much milk? Was the milk 2 percent? Was the cow freerange? Did the cow sign a consent form to take HGH? Or was the milk almond, goat, oat, or coconut? If it is cow’s milk, was the cow approved by Joaquin Phoenix?
Reviewing the Garcia’s morning milk consumption, my high school diploma, undergraduate college degree and master’s degree are collectively worth almost as much as the current price of a gallon of gas.
A 2020 solution: Hey Google, do my daughter’s fifth-grade math homework.
“Sorry, I don’t understand,” she says.
Should have bought Alexa. “But I found something else,” Google tells me. “Do you want to know how much homework a fifth grader should have?”
Yes. Yes, I do.
“On the website PsychologyToday.com, they say, ‘Experts in the field recommend children have no more than 10 minutes of homework per day per grade level,’” Google says. “As a fifth grader, Timothy should have no more than 50 minutes a day of homework.”
Timothy obviously works for PsychologyToday.com. Equally obvious is that moms and dads must all agree that our kids are never allowed to check this website.
“In which number does the digit 7 have a value that is 10 times as great as the digit 7 in 0.975?”
That one. “Complete the stem-andleaf plot to represent the following data about the amount of hours David worked each week.”
There is such a thing as a dumb question. It should ask how many hours David worked, how many hours David worked according to his boss, and how many hours David worked that he told his wife. Three different figures.
So far, so good. Nothing has been thrown yet. No tears.
“OK, this is where I need your help,” she says. “This is going to be miserable.”
At this point, I have no choice but to acknowledge
I am my father when I say, “Slow down” 34,141 times over the next four minutes. After this, I beg like a car salesman for her to double check her work.
As the exercise in humiliation continues some of the math skills from decades ago make a surprise return. She laughs at her dad trying to do long division by hand. It’s quality entertainment to watch a middle-aged man attempt 16 x 6 + 9, especially when his is the wrong answer.
In the end, some help is actually provided and the math assignment is successfully completed with a most important lesson gained: The life-altering importance of partial credit.