Topic T72: Concluding Remarks

In my younger years, I never dreamed that someday I would write a book, especially not a math book. I lacked confidence and went through childhood and adolescence thinking that other people were smarter and more attractive than I. School was a constant struggle and it took a lot of effort just to maintain a passing grade. Test scores indicated that I was not “college material” and teachers gave poor reports of my ability. Authorities determined that I was functioning at least one and a half years below the norm and that it would be best if I enrolled in a special school. I stuttered, wasn’t well-coordinated, not good at sports, and was slow to make friends. If I had any talents, they remained locked deep inside. There must have been other students like me, but I always felt that I was at the bottom and so alone. I seemed to be afraid of everything. When a teacher called on me in class, I could feel myself physically shaking.

Everybody knew that “hole in the head” (my nickname) didn’t know anything. When you’re in a situation like that, you don’t even fight back. You find the indignities are impossible to forget. You want the feelings to go away, but there is no escape because the negativity comes from within.

In the early seventies a special task force, Operation Head Start, was set up to help the minorities and underachievers in our school systems. The government poured money into the project, but despite much effort on their part, test scores and social attitudes didn’t change. In desperation, authorities called on the great social scientist, Margaret Mead, to look into the situation, hoping she would find a solution. The monies spent on school supplies, additional teaching staff, housing, and other “cure all’s” had to be justified. Surely, the greatest social scientist of the age could shed some light on the problem. Much to the surprise of all, Dr. Mead summarized her findings in just a few short pages. The final report issued to the task force stated that the core of the problem has to do with what she referred to as the “Theory of Stereotypes.” Minority students live in an environment where their roles are defined by their parents, friends, and even the school system. At an early age, children, with apparently low ability, become labeled by virtually everything in their environment, as “stupid” and incapable of learning. The message was clearly taught to such individuals and it then became internalized in their psyche. Dr. Mead went on to say that once these stereotypes are defined, the individual finds it almost impossible to free themselves from the conditioning. By a complex process, not fully understood, the brain possibly incorporates pathways that become a permanent part of the person.

Many students in the Fifties experienced this kind of stereotyping. Sadly, children today continue to be affected by it and there will always be some who fall through the cracks in the system. A great deal of talent is wasted because we do not take the time to discover why a person doesn’t reach their full potential. We use testing and statistics to try and find answers, but we inevitably fail– as did Operation Head Start. During a large part of my youth, I suffered from unfair stereotyping, but I was one of the lucky ones. I succeeded because I had the will to do so and because significant people in my life cared about me and my future. The strange thing was that those who were the most influential in helping me were generally not professionals from education, but rather “ordinary” individuals like Bill, from the Electric Company mailroom, and “Willie”, the pot washer from Casa Conti restaurant. I give a great deal of credit to my mother and her insistence that I could make it. She refused to believe what authorities were saying and had faith in me. She had the good sense to hire a tutor and found the right person for the job, a man named Jim Powers. This tutor did more than teach me math, he helped me change the negative attitudes I had about myself. I was turned around by these strong people who believed in me. Jim introduced me to the field of math that became a way of life. The road was never easy. I remember many times wanting to give up and choose an easier path, but with the encouragement of my mentors, I faced the challenges and continued on with my studies.

I called my book the Power Trip because the title best expresses what I feel. I don’t mean power in the sense of being smarter than others or obtaining a high paying job–nor do I mean power in the sense of getting even with those who labeled me a failure. This is a different type of power. What I’m talking about is the excitement in obtaining my goals through seemingly impossible odds. It is the power experienced by helping students to discover their abilities and, in turn, watching them succeed. There is greatness in numbers and math gives me the feeling that the world around me has order and, this order, makes sense out of the chaos. Sir Isaac Newton expressed the joy he found in math by equating it to a small boy playing on the beach– picking up a small, shiny pebble or shell from the sand, he guards his treasure closely, puts it in his pocket and looks to find more; then, turning and seeing the great ocean, realizes all the unfound treasures that it holds, yet to be discovered. Like Newton, I picked up several small pebbles throughout my life and each became a precious gift.

Albert Einstein wrote, “Everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of math or science becomes convinced that some special force is manifested in the laws of the universe–a spirit that is superior to that of man, and one that makes us feel humble.”

I studied the subject because I loved it. I loved how it made me feel, what it did for me, and how it enabled me to help others. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have gone through life, without the people and the adventures that I experienced along the way, on this never ending power trip with math!

• John Homan