15 December 2012
It was one or two simple acts of kindness that drew us together as friends. I suppose that is how a lot of these situations start. I offered him a lift home, once, twice, until it somehow became a regular occurrence. We casually, over a week or two, became somewhere between acquaintances, colleagues and friends. We worked together on a presentation for English, with a couple of other students. We started sitting next to each other. To be frank, I'm terrible at making friends. It takes me forever - I just don't know how to have normal conversations. We might have stalled, in this quasi-friendship state, had I been left to my own useless devices.
Then maths happened.
Strange, I know, that maths should have drawn us together, but it did. After years of trying to solve it's problems, Maths actually solved one of mine.
During the first few weeks of teacher training the university, in it's infinite wisdom, gave us a maths 'audit' to help with our development. Our tutor stressed how it wasn't a test and not to worry about it. It was to be looked upon as 'a tool to expose our areas of weakness'. Or in my case, the fact that all maths seemed to be my area of weakness. So, being me, I worried about it. I checked out all the maths-related books from the library and sat down on one boring Saturday morning to kick that audit's butt.
It did not go well.
A few pages in I realised I knew nothing, I was a failure at life and maths may indeed be a machination of the devil, sent to root out the weak and pathetic. And kill them.
I won't lie. I cried my sad, unmathematical heart out. By this point I wasn't even sure that two plus two did indeed equal four.
Then I had a flash of inspiration. Someone at uni had to be good at maths. Some poor fool who could be duped into helping me. Of course. Johnny. He did a maths 'A' level and he was some sort of science genius. And he totally owed me for all the lifts I'd been giving him.
In a somewhat dramatic text message I explained my utter uselessness. Almost immediately he sent me a message back:
"Don't worry about it, it'll be alright. Just do the bits you can and I'll help you with the rest. X"
He was true to his word. After a long day, near the end of an even longer week, we sat in the empty canteen with cups of vending machine tea, and Johnny taught me maths. For two hours. He was funny, kind and patient beyond belief. I told him he should consider being a teacher. He laughed at my stupid jokes and innuendos. We talked about movies and music. We both sensed the thinly veiled insanity that was hidden from the world in general. To sum it up in a neat cliché, we clicked. And I saw something in his playful teasing and his cheeky smile that made my heart thump hard against my ribs and sent an awkward blush into my cheeks.
I wanted to know him.
Maths. I have a new respect for it.
Maths • Opuss № I