My sons are math geeks and I couldn’t be more proud.
They are mathletes. Math Team nerds. Geeks. They call themselves geeks. They call each other geeks. I can call them math geeks. But don’t you dare.
More often than not, when people ask about my boys, they’ll say, “What sports are they into?” and when l tell them Math Decathlon, I get the Who farted? look. Sure, it may not have the same caché as quarterbacking the high school football team, but at least the rate of injury is lower. (We won’t mention the mechanical pencil incident of 2012.)
We obviously goof on it ourselves. I mean, Math Team is low-hanging comedy fruit. “Sorry, the boys couldn’t be here tonight. They have a Math Team contest early tomorrow. Kyle needs to rest and Ethan is icing up his wrist to stave off any potential carpal tunnel setbacks.” And nothing says funny like a graphing calculator.
For the most part, most people think it’s great my sons are mathletes. I know we do. Geeks inherit the earth, after all. (In fact, we’re counting on it, given the state of our retirement portfolio.) But recently, a woman laughed at me when I said they were on Math Team. Laughed. She laughed. She actually chuckled out the words: “Math Team, tee-hee-hee.”
“They both got 800’s in Math on their SAT’s,” I said.
Guess who’s laughing now?
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