Gauss

Legend has it when the famous mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss was in primary school his (mean, lazy, etc…) math teacher gave the class the assignment of adding up the first 100 positive integers. So 1+2+3+4+…+97+98+99+100=? He then sat back at his desk with a (mean, lazy etc…) look on his face while the students toiled away, doomed for the next few minutes to tides of elementary addition. Well all of his students except for Gauss. After a couple minutes Gauss approached his (mean, lazy, etc…) teacher with the correct answer, 5050. How’d he do it!?

There are several theories about how he might have conceptualized his addition shortcut, but I’ll explain the most common here. The brilliant young Gauss saw that 100+1=101, and 99+2=101, and 98+3=101. Little Gauss had discovered a pattern! By looking at the middle two numbers (50+51=101) he reasoned that there were 50 such pairs with sum of 101, thus the simple multiplication 101*50=5050 yields the desired summation.

Ever since hearing this story in grade school myself it has always fascinated me and I’ve been filled with admiration for Gauss ever since. Now why did I tell you the story of the (mean, lazy, etc…) math teacher and Gauss?

One of my students’ favorite activities behind talking and messing around on computers is asking for bonus points. They ask for bonus points if I give them a test, they ask for them if I don’t give them a test, they ask for them if it’s too hot, or it rains, or if it’s a day that ends in ‘i' (so luckily I get a break on Dimanche). After initially curbing to such demands I’ve learned to turn a deaf ear to them. That is until recently.

In my youngest class there were 10 minutes left in the class and I didn’t really have anything prepared. Usually I’d teach them a few words in English or we’d sing a song. It was the last period of the day – a real scorcher of one too. I was ready to be done. Suddenly something clicked. I got up and walked to the front of the class.

“Do you want +3 bonus points?”

Suddenly everyone was paying attention. Three bonus points! That’s almost unheard of.

“I’m going to write a math question on the board and if just one person can solve it, I’ll give you all plus three bonus points.”

Most kids were very excited at this so some of the others were a little more concerned.

“What kind of math problem,” they asked.

After replying that it was simple addition, they were in agreement and I started writing. When I had written the question in its entirety and explained the three dots meant EVERYTHING in between their excitement died down a little bit, but most went immediately to work.

I went back to my desk to play the role of the (evil, lazy, etc…) math teacher hoping but not at all expecting a young Gauss to be seated in my class.

Soon the air was awash with answers. It’s 1,000,000. No it’s 345. No it’s 5,000,000. After a few minutes the whistle blew, indicating the class was over. I sighed inwardly, no Gausses in my class today. Suddenly a little voice floated across the air.

I’ve got it sir. It’s “cinq mille cinquante“ (5050)

My heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

Turns out that “cinq mille cinq cent” (5500) sounds an awful lot like “cinq mille cinquante“ (5050) in a room full of noisy children and my kid wasn’t the next Gauss. Still damn close though. In fact despite the fact that this was one of the youngest kids in the youngest class in the school none of the other kids in the other classes even got close. I was already thinking of doing an advanced math class next year and after this I’m really excited to do so.

Class

July 10th, 2009

“Bonjour classe” I say in my loudest voice, trying my best to project to the back of the room. Normally this would be no problem for me but today it’s raining. The thousands of fat raindrops hurling down on the ceiling make it sound like we’re in a stadium full of thousands of cheering fans. I look around at the students in the room, taking stock of my future students. Because this is the IT class we have students of all ages, from a boy I would guess to be 15 to a man who looks as though he is pushing 60. They stare at me expectantly.

I dive into the French headfirst, trying my best to be heard over the rain. I tell the students who I am and my plans for this summer (teaching them in Model school) and for after (teaching IT in Toma). This is my first time talking to real Burkinabey students. I look around the room and am thrilled to see looks of recognition, they understand my French! I smile, but then remember that I’m going to have to read half of the lesson I had prepared today. This is going to be painful.

In the back of the class sit the other IT trainees as well as our IT PCVFP (Peace Corps Volunteer Facilitator Permanent), Vincent. During training a large number of PCVFs cycle through telling us their experiences and facilitating our discussions. The PCVFs usually stay a couple of weeks, PCVFPs do the same thing, but stay for six weeks. Vincent points up, signaling that I need to project my voice louder. I feel like I’m almost screaming, but I manage to put out a few more decibels, straining my voice.

After reading a sentence I look up to confused Burkinabey faces. I realize that I’m talking quickly, but can’t seem to enunciate, go slowly and yell. I try for two out of the three. I’m teaching today about the basics of mouse use, moving and clicking. Many of these people have never seen or held a mouse in their lives. It’s hard to put myself in their shows. I think using a computer is one of my first memories.

The fifteen minutes I need to teach today passes by slowly and painfully. Reading French is painful. I give up halfway and retreat into my somewhat small but familiar memorized vocabulary. I can’t say quite everything that I wanted to say, but at least it seems like more people understand me. For a few moments, I almost forget that I’m teaching in French as the lesson seems to click together at the end. I think I could get used to this.