Isolated Variable

When I dropped out of Elementary Functions in my senior year of high school, I didn't flinch when I dropped into Selected Topics in Math. "Sel Top," as we used to call it, fulfilled my math requirements for graduation, and it gave me plenty of time to catch up on the notes I needed to be writing to my girl friend. Sure, there was a part of me that wished that I could be cruising along at that elevated level of math genius with my very clever friends, but math had suddenly ceased to be a priority for me. On the contrary. I felt released.
From the time I had entered junior high, I was uncomfortably ensconced in the upper echelon of mathematics class. I tested high, so that's where I was placed. The trouble I encountered was that I was much better at taking tests than I was at doing class work. I struggled mightily with the repetition of problem after problem, knowing that there was an answer: one correct answer. That answer routinely sat just outside of my understanding as the hours passed and my homework became a struggle that confounded me on many occasions.
But I continued to pound away, and in spite of my parents' suggestions that I go in early or stay late for help, I was determined to do it myself. This nose to the grindstone ethic kept me going for nearly six years, and when I was confronted by my Elementary Functions teacher, not about my frustrations with the math but rather my flippant attitude in class, I was relieved to be shown the way out. In my mind, there was this thought, the one that echoes in the heads of countless teenagers: "When am I going to use this stuff anyway?"
Now I have the answer: the answer is now. Now I have a son who is doing much of the same math that perplexed me when I was his age. Now he's coming to me for help. Now I am working toward a supplemental math credential. Now I understand rational numbers and domain and range and matrices. Now I understand irony. It comes right after functions.