“Yes, it is. But then she asked me a question back.”
“Okay. And? I encourage my students to ask questions. It’s called learning.”
“This was her question. And I quote, ‘Mr. Pipps, isn’t a limit just a mathematical proof that you can spend yourwhole life getting closer and closer to something and still never, ever be allowed to have it? And doesn’t that mean that hope is technically a trap?’”
“Oh lord,” I sighed.
“That question got some of the other students thinking, and then a riot erupted in the classroom. Jarod shouted that graphs are ruined for him forever. We didn’t finish the lesson on limits, Sam, and I’ll be honest with you. I have not felt very good about them since.”
I wanted to burst out into laughter because this math nerd was unsettled by my daughter’s question.
“That’s—I’m sorry, Walter. Unfortunately, that is very Zoey.”
“It’s not the first time since school started.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This is the quiz from last week. Zoey gave the correct definition. And she would have had an A+ if it weren’t for this.” He pointed to the remark Zoey had made in parentheses.
I studied the paper. Everything was perfect, right down to her beautiful handwriting. Then I saw it: (so basically the curve gets super close and then commits to never touching the line. Bold strategy. Personally, I would just touch the line, but okay.)
“Well, you know kids.” I breathed out a laugh.
“Again, she’s an excellent student. She can do the math, no problem. The math keeps telling her something she already believes, and it’s making her angry.”
“I don’t think my daughter is angry, Walter.”
“But she is, Sam. Maybe you need to have a talk with her.”
“Sure. Okay.” I smiled.
When Zoey was finished with practice, she walked over and squinted her eyes to shield them from the sun.
“Why was The Turtle over here talking to you?”
“Let’s go. We’ll talk on the way home.” I hooked my arm in hers as we walked across the field.
“Is that my quiz?” She pointed.
“Yes.”
“I got the questions right, Mom. See. Full marks.”
“You did. But you would have gotten an A+ had it not been for this.” I pointed to her statement.
“So, this is a conversation about me being correct. Right?”
“Zoey.”
“I’m just saying, a lot of parents would kill for this. ‘My daughter is too good at math.’ People dream about a conversation like that.”
“You caused a riot in the classroom about limits,” I said.
“I made them think. There’s a difference.”
“Mr. Pipps told me that Jarod said graphs are ruined for him forever now.”
“Jerky Jarod needed to hear it. I did Jarod a favor. Besides, who taught me how to think?” She cocked her head. “You’re always telling me to think outside the box. So, technically, it’s your fault.”
“I suppose it is. Just do me a favor. From now on, keep your thoughts in Math class to yourself. The Turtle takes his math very seriously, and we don’t want to upset him. Deal?”
“Deal. Can we go out to eat?” she asked.
