If your math curriculum had its own social media account, you’d know how it really felt about you
Finally able to share the good news — I'm in a cart! Oh yeah, baby, I'm moving on up to a dee-luxe homeschool in east Tennessee.
I've been sitting in her shopping cart for six days now, and nothing. #commitmentissues
Woke up at 5 A.M. because she deleted me from her cart, then immediately added me back in. The mapping book just beneath me seems gone for good. Too bad. We kept each other's spirits up. The art history curriculum that replaced him is a little snooty.
A little tired of being trotted around and shown off to everyone she knows. #humblebrag
That awkward moment when someone mistakes you for his current bathroom read...
She fell asleep on the couch with me in her arms tonight. So sweet!
Is anybody else seriously peeved about the problem in the whiteboard equation on the last episode of The Big Bang Theory?
I’m just gonna say it: Those math jokes aren’t funny, y’all. “Solve your own problems.” “Stop asking me to find your x.” Just because we math books tend to stick to the facts doesn’t mean we don’t have feelings, too.
Hiding me behind your Story of the World activity book isn’t going to make me go away.
Next time we do dividing fractions, I’m bringing Kleenex. Talk about a tear-jerker.
Is it wrong that I kind of like her sister? She just really seems to get me — and she uses those awesome cinnamon pencils.
Oh, sure, pull me out right after Mythbusters. They’ll be really excited about the quadratic formula after watching Jamie and Adam blow stuff up for half an hour. I can compete with that. NOT.
O.K., I’ll play along. Grammar gave me the year 2,200 B.C. I was base-60 at the time and living in Babylon. I did most of my work on clay tablets and was just starting to really get into place value.
@georgetakei is my spirit animal.
originally published in the spring 2014 issue of home/school/life.
illustration by Chi Wai Un via Creative Commons