How I’m unlearning high school: drunk algebra

Cos Algeber. Is the skeleton of all mathematics. Bones-wise. It’s my bones. Ooh, that’s something, innit. Hic.

Math is sitting on the couch opposite me. It is drunker than I am.

Yeah, I get that. I wave my hand around, in only a slightly less-drunk way. The building blocks. Like Lego. Like building a space station.

Yeah. But. Before you can make the space station. You have to make the. The. The thing that flies there. To the space station.

The space ship, I supply, helpfully.

Yeah. Space ship. But even before that. The. Thing. That makes it fly.

Propulsion engine? I ask, doubtfully.

Nah. Things birds have. Big flappy things.

Wings?

Yeah! Wings. Math nods, pleased with itself. You need the wings. Flappy wings. But.

It shifts its position on the couch to better deliver its insights.

Before the wings. The thing what makes it stand up. That holds it up. The wings. The bird. I mean.

…feet? I say, curiously.

Feet, yeah. But no. I mean. Useful things, feet. But no. The more of feet. The more of feet and wings and body stuff but inside.

I scratch my head. Do you mean the organs?

God, no. No, too squishy and weak. Couldn’t hold up a body if they tried. No, the hard bits. Calcified things. Long and white. All joined together.

I look at math suspiciously. Um. Skeleton?

YES. YES. SKELETON. THAT’s the thing that I mean. THAT’S what you need.

I look around, as if for an invisible film crew. Yeah, but… you already said that. I thought we were using space stations as a simile. Lego space stations.

Oh, we were, but then I thought of a better. Thingy. That word you used. Smilly. Similar.

Simile, I corrected.

Right, math nodded. That thing. My simily is better than your simily. My skeleton simily.

I blink. O-kayyyyy. So, algebra is the skeleton of mathematics. Your skeleton.

Exactly! Algeber is the skeleton. Algeber. Alegbar. Bar… Bra. BRA. AlgeBRA.

Math fumbles with its glass and spills most of the contents onto itself in the process. I push the tissue box towards it, wordlessly.

AlgeBRA is the skeleton. Cos it holds things up. So they can stand. And walk. And lift things.

It ignores the tissues and waves its glass around as if to demonstrate.

And that’s why you have to learn it cos if you want to do more math then you have to learn it. For to stand. And walk. And build things out of Lego. Like a space station. Or the thing with wings. Bird. Like a space ship. Which is also a thing that has wings.

Ok, ok. I hold up a hand. We have ascertained that algebra is important as a foundation for further mathematics. So, how far I am along the track, then? How is my foundation doing?

Math holds up its glass and peers through it at me, as if it is a magnifying glass. It makes its eyes look like two large, earnest bugs.

Wellll, it begins. I mean. You have got a knack for. For. Asking things. That’s something. Annnnnnnd….

And, I prompt.

And you like to know things. That’s ace, that is. Proper useful for algeber. BRA.

But what about my PROGRESS, I ask, forehead creasing. I mean, am I ready for more than elementary algebra yet? Have I got the skeleton down?

Math screws up its face as if thinking hard.

Well, we haven’t gotten through everything, though. It raises the glass to peer through it again at me. Same wide bug eyes. We haven’t talked about terms and expressions, haven’t discussed them yet, now have we.

Ahh, I already know about them. I wave my hand at him dismissively. That’s just singular or groupings of coefficients or variables or constants that are separated by operators. And expressions are then just the groupings of terms.

It’s maths turn to blink.

Oh, no biggie, I say modestly, examining my nails. Just did a bit of research.

Math glares at me. You wikiapediaded it, didn’t you.

Oh, come on. That’s allowed. I refuse to feel guilty.

I was going to tell you about them. That was the next step. That’s my JOB.

Math is looking at me reproachfully, like I just turfed a young orphaned child out into the street.

Oh, come ON. I am allowed to do my own homework here. This whole thing is about me being PRO-AC-TIVE.

Math studies its glass with a pained expression on its face. I groan. Alcohol was supposed to make all of this easier.

So can we move on to other things, then? I make my facial expression as agreeable and cooperative as possible.

Math is still looking disgruntled.

Come ONNNNNNNNNN. Otherwise, I’ll lose interest and go find out about atomic theory instead.

It’s half-true but it works.

Fine, sulks math. But I’m giving you homework. Which you are NOT to do using Wik….. that website.

Deal! I high-five the air. What is it?

Ok. So. Go and find out the difference between an equation and a formula.

Easy! I cross my arms, contentedly.

And use examples.

I nod, eagerly. Can they involve chocolate?

No. No more chocolate. Chocolate is banned.

I scowl.

And then explain what the subject of a formula is.

Fine. I make a mental note to specifically look for chocolate examples.

And now please extricate the whisky what I saw you hiding under your chair and pass it to me. My glass is thirsty.

Ooh, no. I nudge the bottle further under the chair with my foot. No more of that tonight. I’m getting you an Uber.

Unlearning High School is a series published every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Or every Tuesday and Thursday. Or sometimes just Fridays. Occasionally I skip a week. Or two. Depending on the weather. Anyhoo, follow me if you want to unlearn things too or just see how I’m getting on. Comment if you have any tips or insight into the process.