Polygons and Heptagons

Today is a banner day for my little nephew, Sean, as his favorite Aunt
with the same first and last name attended his grandparent/special
person day function. Sean and I are old hands at this sort of thing as
we attended the same event but at a different school last year.

The first performance of the day is a concert. Sean has the honor of
singing solo. I am very proud of him in his smart suit and tie and
untied shoes. He manages to keep clean for the better part of the drive
to school and looks every inch the Vienna choirboy, minus the alter
server outfit. My husband has absconded with my camera so I am left to
the devices of my new cell phone. Surprisingly, I manage to figure out
the camera/phone with no problem. My nephew marches out and places
himself right in front of the choir leader; she does not realize that
she is blocking my view. I move, Sean moves, we play this back and forth
shuffling of places several times until I am able to see Sean. After
snapping a few photos for his parents, my stomach reminds me it is snack
time.

On our way to his next class, Sean treats me to a hot chocolate at the
school lunchroom. He neatly spills chocolate down his sleeve, assuring
me no one will notice. Advise him to wash the spots in cold water and I
am promptly ignored. We hurry to class and Sean declares that he can no
longer abide his dressy clothes. He wads up his suit coat in his
backpack until I gently remind him of his mothers warning to hang up the
coat.

The teacher looks expectantly at her new students, polygons and
heptagons are on the agenda today. This is ridiculous, Sean is in fifth
grade! I start to seriously sweat when the teacher advises the students
to bring out the compass and protractor. This is not good for me and I
look feverishly at my watch, a half-hour to go. The teacher suggests
that we help our charges in their studies. Hastily make my way to the
bathroom and stay there a long while. Every man for himself in math
class! When I emerge we are beginning our origami project, my past
inadequacies of spatial problems begin to haunt me. The teacher
encourages us to measure all angles; this is the stuff nightmares are
made of.

Finally the teacher wonders if we, the guests, might like to relay our
favorite fifth grade math stories. Oh God, this keeps getting worse and
worse. All of the guests are of the World War II generation, most of
them are a bit hazy but they are united in one thought. No one had to do
this level of math until high school. I begin to feel a bit better until
it is my turn. I relay the importance of the multiplication tables and
percentages. The students look at me like I am some kind of numbskull
but I stand by my statement. One does need to figure out the tip…

Author Bio: Shawn Underwood
shawn@shawnunderwood.com
www.shawnunderwood.com
Humor mom column