Why a good teacher can fix a math hatred

When I started elementary school, I was ahead in a lot of things. I already was a strong reader, I knew how to do some basic math from my sister and father explaining it to me, and I picked up everything else really quickly (except for social skills. Yaaay for no friends growing up!). The reading and learning most things quickly never really went away, thankfully. The math skills, however, did.

I feel like I probably hit my first bump in the third grade. When I was younger, I got nasty colds quite frequently. We learned later it was something wrong with my bronchial tube things. I don't know the details, I just know it still means that terrible cough still hits every year for about a month. But when I was little, it was worse, and it often took me out of school for awhile. I had been out for about two weeks when I came back, and found out my third grade class had done fractions while I was gone.

I still, to this day, don't completely understand how to use fractions. I feel like missing the basics confused me for years, then every time someone would attempt to teach me the basics, I would just shut down, and block them out. It's terrible, and probably what led to the second, larger math bump.

In grade 9, my math class was divided into three sections. For lack of a better name for them, there was a "stupid group", a "medium group" and a "smart group". The stupid group got as much helped as they needed, all the time. The medium got some help. Smart kids did not get ANY help, unless no one in either of the other two groups needed it. I was placed in the smart group, for some reason. I was pulling average grades in math (I was fine at anything that wasn't fraction related) but I was also coded with a "Smart Kid Code" from my IPP. Because I wasn't getting help, or getting my homework checked, I stopped doing any of the work. Meaning I began to fail my tests, and then I had to get a tutor.

Having a tutor helped. It was a friend of mine, and she was my tutor in grade 10 as well, but from that point on (the failing of tests) I began to truly hate math. To try to help myself out, I dropped to the lower level of math for grade 11 and 12 (Applied Math) and it was there that I realized I don't need to be bad at, and hate, math.

I had the same teacher for both years. I'm not gonna name his name due to, you know, privacy reasons, and that could be awkward if he ever found this, but he was awesome. We're gonna call him T. He was the most fun teacher I think I've ever had, and he could explain things so even those of us, like myself, with the largest math blocks, could push through and understand.

I went from my grades only being in the low 70s into high 80s.

I realized I am, in fact, not awful at math. I even have some basics on how to use fractions- or at least, enter them into my calculator properly. I realized I can get good marks in a class that used to make me cry.

Despite the fact I am never, ever taking a math class in my life ever again, I don't cringe at the word "math". Unless it's followed by the word "test".