Math-e-mad-ics

To all my math-nerd teacher friends - Happy Pi Day.

On this day of 3/14 I have no idea who discovered pi, the mathematical calculation of the ratio  between a circle's circumference and diameter (pi = 3.14); nor do I care. The part I enjoy now is when the middle schoolers bring me leftover pieces of actual bakery pie from their class celebrations.

Math and I have never had a stable relationship. I was good at it until the fifth grade when my teacher, Mr. Nowak, a kindly, older gentleman, allowed us to correct our own papers. Whether we earned our grades or not, we all received A's. The man, who walked with a limp, fascinated me after telling us he got his butt shot off in "The War."

In high school, one of my math teachers exploded from his classroom and pinned me against the lockers while aggressively manhandling my neck and chin. (In his defense, he'd earlier warned me to stop bouncing a handball against the wall while he taught class. I didn't.) I dropped his class the following week.

My final math teacher, sealed my math-less fate when he submissively allowed his classroom control to deteriorate to the point where he didn't punish kids for taping Playboy centerfolds to the chalkboard. Mr. M often showed up late for class, smelling of Old Spice, coffee, and cigarettes. The moment that likely pushed him over the edge was the day Shelvin Longley stood at the pencil sharpener, lit a pack of firecrackers, and dropped them onto the ledge outside the window. Already a nervous wreck, Mr. M nearly came unglued. Decades later I heard he died in his parent's home; a lonely, bachelor alcoholic.

Thirty-plus years later it's no wonder I can't even balance a checkbook.