So… remember Grim? Well, it turns out that Grim has issues with learning his multiplication tables. He has about half of them down cold–interestingly enough, what is memorized is intermittent. So, parts of table 4 and parts of table 6 etc… he gets and other parts he “just can’t memorize, it’s too hard!” In fact, the very suggestion that memorization is a key to his success in mathematics leads to full out melt-downs. “There are just so many. . . I will never be able to remember them all!”

What’s a mother to do? In my case, not much, since I’m not the Math and Science teacher around here. No, that job falls to poor IZ. However, it does typically mean that I wake up most Tuesdays and Thursdays to high drama in my house. I don’t like high drama. Period.

IZ likes to blame this on Boy Wonder’s second grade teacher. Mrs. Glassman believed in a more creative approach to math. If you didn’t know the answer to a simple problem in her class, why you could just create your own strategy, your own work around to solve the problem. No need for memorizing those pesky math facts, you could create an answer! Just look for a pattern and when you find it, replicate! A year of this and my pattern obsessed kid was hooked. An addict to the pernicious “work-around.” He’s never gotten clean.

Now IZ is straight from 1951, even if he was born two decades later. And while I tend to be the least linear person in these parts, I do agree with him in this matter. There are just some things, basic things, you need to learn and that means memorization! And what irks IZ more than anything, is not just that Boy Wonder seems completely committed to the fine art of the work-around; it’s that he has elevated it to high art in the first place. The simplicity and beauty, the very eloquence of mathematics is rendered muddied in the abstract permutations Boy Wonder seems dedicated to produce. This creates a sort of number anger that is both volatile and contagious. More often than not I wake up to IZ and Boy Wonder in heated debate at best and full-out warfare at worst.

Today was no exception. I call them “my dog with a bone and my puppy with a bone” for a reason. And the bone they most typically like to fight over is the efficacy of mathematics. People, let me just say here and now, I don’t like mathematics in the first place, I certainly can’t tolerate high drama around it before I’ve had my coffee! Having had enough, I decided to interfere. But instead of my typical, “Why can’t we all just get along? And where’s my coffee?” lament, I opted for a different tack.

I began by trying to convince my child the importance for learning the basics… that creating his own language for his work would make it really difficult in the future to communicate with other mathematicians. Yes, that’s right… I used a language analogy—I’m the English teacher after all. He just looked at me. “Yes, but, I have a better way! It makes more sense to me!” Perhaps… but I’m guessing that all his future college peers are going to feel exactly like IZ, not exactly sympathetic to his antics. Then, it hit me…

Unlike IZ, I don’t blame this on Mrs. Glassman. I think she gave my child a great advantage for his future. She awakened in him his deep desire to be an inventor and it will serve him well… if only he will accept that there are some things he’s going to have to learn old school. No, I fault something far more more insidious.

“Listen,” I begin,“I blame this on Star Trek! You watch that B’Lanna Torres (OMG, I know their NAMES) create work-arounds every time the Starship Voyager gets in trouble! Right?” He nods his head. The tears in his eyes are quickly evaporating and there is a new gleam in them… he’s hooked! Who knew Star Trek would come in so handy?

“Well, it’s like this,” I continue, “When B’Lanna creates a work-around she is still using the basic principles of engineering, she is just doing it in a creative way. She couldn’t do that if she didn’t know the basic rules. In fact, if she didn’t understand, let’s say the Warp Core so well, she couldn’t find new ways of fixing it… Right?”

At this point, let’s just say I’m freakin’ pleased with myself. I have NO idea what I’m saying, but some how, it’s getting through.”

“So, your multiplication tables, are like the Warp Core. They are the essential power behind making the starship fly. . . without it, you are just in dead space. Now, what you’ve been doing is something like having Voyager flying along just fine and B’Lanna deciding to do some experimenting with the Warp Core!” Oh the horror. He looks at me like I have to be kidding, because B’Lanna would never do that!

I continue, “You can imagine how upset Captain Janeway is going to be when her ship grinds to a halt because B’Lanna got a hankering to be creative!” Lots of nods. . . “In fact, Captain Janeway would probably take away B’Lanna’s replicator rations.” That would be bad, we both agree.

And with that, Grim disappeared. We agreed to work on learning his Warp Core basics at night together before bed. Flash cards may be old school, but they are effective! Misery does love company, after all.

I’m no fool. My kid is always going to be looking for the angle. He’s just wired to find new and interesting ways of seeing the world. This is a good thing. But learning the basics of any system is also a good thing. We have to understand the rules we are breaking to fully appreciate the beauty of doing so. Otherwise, we’re only running on intuition and intuition can take us just so far in the world before we bump into reality that the Warp Core basics we found so boring are completely necessary to saving the day. It’s true in writing, in science, in math, and in Space. And if you don’t believe me, you just need to ask my new best friend, B’Lanna Torres.