A few years ago, I decided to study mathematics because I thought it would make me smarter. I also hoped to correct a flaw in my past, since I had failed mathematics decisively and serially and only got through it by cheating. I had done fine with arithmetic, but I entered the woods when words became equations and x’s and y’s. I had a block of some kind. Some people are tone deaf; I appeared to be math deaf.
I decided to begin where I had got thrown off the math train, at Algebra Junction. After that I planned to learn geometry and calculus, the three parts of what the 18th century called “pure mathematics.” Algebra was harder than I thought it would be. I assumed I had grown smarter since childhood, and I expected to coast through algebra wondering why I had found it so challenging. I still felt resentful at how math had treated me, though, and this led to my having a poor attitude. Moreover, I was pretty sure math was wrong, and I meant to prove it.
