Math from the Past

All educators take a secret pact which requires us to tell unsuspecting children that they will need math, even though they really don’t.

Unsuspecting Child: “Dude, I ain’t never gonna need no math!”

Me: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Unsuspecting Child: “A pothead.”

Me: “How many grams in a dime bag?”

Unsuspecting Child: “Uh, I dunno.”

Me: “Then how will you know you’re not getting ripped off?”

Unsuspecting Child: “Uh, math?”

Me: Math.

Of course, if you want to appear on This American Life, you need to illustrate a lesson learned, and last summer, while trying to figure out how many landscaping bricks I would need to buy for my fire pit, I had an epiphany.

Looking at the big hole I dug in the ground, I wondered how I would measure the length, because my tape measure was straight, and the fire pit was circular.

“Dental floss,” I said, nodding. “I’ll just string some floss around this sonofabitch, and then measure the floss.”

Feeling like MacGyver, I started to pull out all the dental floss, wondering how I might use a piece of gum to complete the project, when a voice from long ago filled my head with lost wisdom.

“Brandon,” the voice said, “Brandooooon…oooooohhhhh…..ooooohhhh…..circumference equals…..circumference equalssssss……”

“What does it equal?!” I screamed, tears welling in my eyes.

“2….Pi….”

“ 2 Pi what? Tell me dammit!”

“rrrrrrrr…..”

And then the voice faded, having imparted me with the gift of math. Gathering up the floss, I set to measuring the circumference of my fire pit. Looking up radius on the internet, I realized that the old math voice could have simply told me to measure the diameter times Pi, but whatever, it was an old voice from the past, and they’re always being cryptic and sh1t. I whipped out my cell phone calculator and multiplied 3.14 times the diameter of my fire pit, in this case, 36 inches to get the answer I was seeking: 113.

Wow. You really do need math.

I drove to Home Depot to get my bricks.

“I need some landscaping bricks, please. The red ones.”

The guy in the handsome, orange apron said, “Sure. How many you gonna need?”

I looked at my notes with pride, and with a wry smile, said, “113.”

Math. Learn it, live it, love it.