Bully

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I'm learning Algebra.


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Em needs help this summer, so I've been cramming, taking her on-line Algebra class with her. I sneak in a couple of hours a day while I'm at work, doing the lessons and homework and then going home and she and I go over it all again. We compare our answers and then she takes the quiz with me there to help out if she needs it.

It's been a trip. Forced to communicate, we are like two alien species whose ships have both crash-landed on an asteriod somewhere in deep space. We need each other to survive, but we have no language in common, nor do we understand the mathematical language we need very well.

Throw in mutual distrust and teenage angst and paternal anger and frustration and you have a pretty volatile mixture.


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I told Yolie I feel like I'm trying to land a six pound trout on half-pound test while I'm standing on a floating basketball in choppy waters.

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But something magical is happening.


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A couple of days ago Em says to me:

"I put a CD on your laptop."

"What'd you do that for?"

"It's a mix I made." Shrugs. "So you could listen to it."

"Oh." Dad nods. "Okay."

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Holy SHIT!


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Now we even have a few words in common, a couple of gestures. We can nod at each other over the dinner table, and as long as I don't actually say anything, it's all cool. She can stand to be there. And she's getting the Algebra. Her grade is pulling up steadily.


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I could just bust.




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