Math Anxiety, Dyscalculia, and Girl Superpowers

Math Anxiety! My palms still sweat when I hear the words arithmetic or mathematics. Even thinking about any future cognitive memory test given to me by my physician requiring me to count backward by 7s, starting from 100, is enough to make my heart race. Let’s just say on a good math day my brain would have a heck of a time!

I have a distinct feeling that if you could look into the area of my brain with the control panel for math functions, you would see a large empty space. No one there. Shouts of, “Anybody home?” would echo off the gray matter. Or perhaps there’s a very frazzled, discombobulated individual frantically pushing buttons, barking out commands. 

As far back as early elementary school, I remember needing before or after school one-on-one teacher assistance with arithmetic concepts, math facts or dreaded story problems.

My parents were not the type to oversee homework so I was on my own to sit for hours, missing after school or after supper outside play, trying to make sense of assignments.

There was no such thing as a tutor back then as far as I knew. It seems I was not developmentally ready to grasp what so many others seem to easily understand. I was in awe of the kids who were told, “You have the correct answer, but you need to show your work.” That was a superpower in my book! In retrospect, I am convinced testing may have revealed I have dyscalculia, a math learning disability.

My sense of math anxiety heightened through junior high and high school. Algebra, with its mix of numbers and letters, and geometry with its proofs and theorems left me clueless. I struggled with those homework assignments each night, sitting in silence at the desk in my bedroom, often in tears. I prayed that through the process of osmosis, I would wake up in the morning magically understanding the realm of all things math. Those prayers were never answered.

To this day I wonder if now I might be developmentally ready to learn those disciplines. If I had a dollar for every time I cried while doing my math, I might have been very rich by the end of high school!

My geometry teacher was a disheveled fella. Each morning as class began, he would pick up his new piece of chalk, then turn and face the board. His lopsided shirt tails hanging out of his slacks, hair not combed, he would talk to the board as he covered it in nonsensical math scribblings that left me confused and panicked. After a solid 50 minutes of his chicken scratches and gibberish, he’d turn to the class and say, “Any questions?” My classmates clearly had their “aha” moments. For me the lightbulb never lit up. At the end of the year, I was thrilled that he gave me the gift of a D+ for my efforts. I was NOT disappointed; I was elated!

In college I was required to take a math class for elementary education teachers. It was anything but “elementary!” The male teacher seemed to take extreme delight in embarrassing students when they were called to the board to complete long drawn-out computations. I remember the overwhelming dread of possibly being his next victim. My math anxiety meter was at a constant fight or flight level. Unbelievably, he NEVER called me to the board! The deer in the headlights look I must have had plastered on my face could have been my saving grace. He also took great pride and bragged about writing tests that no one could pass with anything higher than a “C.” I thought him very cruel. 

Once in a while I still have a dream about having to take a final math test in a class I have not attended all year. 

As a special education teacher, I believe that individuals who are very proficient in their field of expertise may not actually be the best at teaching that subject to a learner exhibiting difficulty in that field. My experience is that some of them cannot fathom how someone might not be able to process the concepts or make sense of an overload of confusing information. 

There are teachers who are able to give concise explanations and are willing to dig deep into their bag of tricks for a struggling student. Bless them for going the extra mile. Are you really a “teacher” if you only measure your success by the students who seem to easily grasp the subject matter?

If I could go back and talk to that sobbing little girl, working so hard, alone at her desk, I would tell her to ask her teacher for a math buddy. Someone who would take time to explain in “child speak” how to grasp the concept being taught. I would also tell her to close the book; it’s okay to go outside and play, your brain and your body need it. Rest assured, your “superpowers” will shine through one day.