Math Class Hell
Did she say time numbers or prime numbers?
I was sure it was not rhyme numbers.
She is staring at me. Miss Johnson, math teacher.
Takes daydreaming in class as a personal affront.
Her eyes narrow. I yawn. Bad move.
Could you demonstrate this on the board, Caren?
Out of all the students in all the math penitenturies in all the galaxies….
Miss Johnson moves her head toward the blackboard.
When I get there I pick up a piece of smeary chalk.
Where to begin?
“Make two columns,” she says primly.
I understand now why no man has been desperate enough to marry her.
“One for prime and one for composite.”
A clue. Maybe prime is odd and composite is even?
I make the columns.
The second I throw down the one and the two hands are up.
Every classmate wants a turn to redo my work.
The math brains are dying to show Miss Johnson they were listening.
I remember thinking “When am I ever going to need this?”
That was fifty-seven years ago, and frankly, I never have needed it for any reason.
Prime, crime, rhyme, dime, lime, mime, lime.
Who cares?
P.S. Miss Johnson never did get married.
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