Girls ARE Good at Math - Despite What Connor Says

A few nights ago, we walked to a nearby restaurant. I love walks like these, because I can almost always count on one of my kids saying something entertaining. Connor threw me for a curve with this ditty.

I asked him how he liked his new math class.

"I like it. It's THIRD GRADE MATH, so it's fun!"

"Are there any other kids from Mrs. H's class in Mrs. R's [new math teacher] class?"

"No. But there are five other kids that went to Mrs. Rs class with me. One from Mr. F's class isn't that smart. He had to leave. It was too hard for him."

Imagine me being a little blown away by how insensitive this sounds. What happened to - he had a little trouble, so he might try another week? Or, he doesn't really love math so he went back to Mr. F's class?

While I was trying to decide how to respond, Connor carried on: "And, there are only boys in my class.[PAUSE] Maybe because girls aren't good at math."

And then I exploded right there on the sidewalk and hopefully Connor learned that girls are, in fact, good at math. Or, perhaps he learned I am crazy. But either way, I was more than a little annoyed by his postulation. I could see Ed was tempted to laugh and I can assure you, that reaction was stifled quickly. Because nobody - especially not my daughter's father - will have any role in convincing her she can't be good at math.

So now, I've spent the past several days wondering if there's a perfectly good explanation why no girls are in Connor's gifted math class, like the girls are in another group that meets at another time. Six IS a small sample, after all. But a small part of me wants to march into the principal's office and let her know that she needs to drum up some female business for that class - quick.

Because the principal? She also already knows I'm crazy. So in some ways, I've got nothing to lose. Anyone want to toss out some advice?

Elaine

His Brain Told Him

Connor loves math. In his Christmas letter to his teacher, he told her that. I think the letter was something like "Merry Christmas, Mrs. H. I love math. Love, Connor".

The first time he had a math test, he aced it, and there was a note on it instructing me to "celebrate Connor". I then asked Connor about the test and he proceeded to tell me from memory every question on the test. My next thought was, if the test was so easy you memorized it, it's hardly worth celebrating. So as not to be a total Scrooge, I told him he could pick what game our family played that night. He thought that was pretty groovy.

At times like these, I always remember approaching my dad for a monetary reward after receiving my grade card. You see, every other person in my elementary school received money for getting A's (or at least I think they did!), typically $1 - $5. I let my dad know about this fact so he could step up his efforts in the reward department. He looked at my and dryly said "I'm not going to pay you to do something I expect you to do". Point taken. There would be no monetary reward from my dad for getting good grades. (Which is maybe where my hatred for prizes stems from - latent jealously!)

On Wednesday last week, Connor came home and told me he had another math test and he got every question right.

Me: "Did Mrs. H. tell you got every question right?"
Him: "No, my brain told me."

And then I had a meeting with Mrs. H. on Thursday to discuss his recent freak-outs, and in the course of our conversation, she told me he had scored 100 percent on his math test. She also told me she hadn't told Connor that yet. I told her, don't worry, his brain already told him that. And she was a little blown away, because apparently in class, he lacks this sort of confidence.

What gives on that front?

Elaine