which is funny because
in school when i was smaller
i hated them
loathed them
i feel comfortable saying they were the bane of my existence
no really
they'd turn into spastic monkeys running amuck in my already "sorry overhead compartments are full those will have to fit snugly under the seat in front of you" brain
later i would find out that the cramped room in my number section was actually a mild form of
mathematical dyslexia which is really just more collateral damage from my not-so-cool-a-story concussion
("i fell in the shower" is strikingly less romantic than
"i was hit by a car when i was attempting to save an orphan and her three legged dog"
but what can you do? life has no sense of the dramatic)
and now i sit here and wish my math and science teachers were curious
i know high school students are sometimes miserable
and sometimes bored
but i think we would have felt less of both if we saw the beauty
and if we actually believed that you
teacher
cared as much as you did when you were small
but we saw your dim eyes and disappointment
so we played up to it
because we
too
were tired
rose, the last supper, the stars, ancient greece, love and how we see it and find it in one another
if you told us that everything above this line is irrevocably tied with numbers
well
one number really
well then i think the monkeys in my head would have momentarily postponed their running amuck
hell
they may have even stopped throwing feces
which is
let's face it
an effective method of getting one's point across
despite the obvious health hazard
but teachers
despite your obvious lack of passion and love
and
more importantly
endurance
i have reclaimed my love of numbers
because in the end
poetry
art
music
our hearts
can all be reduced to numbers
to phi
and equations
mostly phi
because that is the ratio of beauty and love and hope
because it's the artist's ratio
it's the bridge for us
for them
but
still
you teachers
all of you
please do not give up
on those of us that have monkeys inside
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