November 20, 1986

How many times while sitting in algebra class did you ask yourself why in the world you were there? The obvious response was that you had to pass algebra to get out of high school. But the obvious response didn't come close to answering the larger question.
How is the quality of life improved by knowing how to solve the unknowns in an algebraic equation? The question has been asked by struggling students since the days of Socrates. ("oh, come on, Socrates! Couldn't you just tell us another nice allegory about a cave rather than make us solve this equation?)
Similar questions about the merits of English class, geography class and even beginning math class are given prompt and satisfying replies. We will always, even in our adult stage, have a need for speaking properly. We will always, even in advancing age, need to know which way is up.
But do we really need to know how to solve for x in the equation 4x+c=a-(x+3)? Understanding the rudiments of logic, we were told back in high school, will prove of great worth in the theatre of life. We responded by saying every theatre we had ever been in posted the price of popcorn in dollars and cents, not x's and a's.
So then the teacher, who must have long ago discovered teaching algebra was easier than justifying it, said algebra was something that would come in handy when we were older, regardless of what our occupation would be. The only kid in the class who knew what he wanted to be when he grew up (a nuclear physicist) nodded his head in agreement. The rest of us had no inkling what our future held, but we knew if it held algebra we would cling tenaciously to the past.
We kept asking throughout the year, as the equations got more and more complicated, what the point of all this figuring was. Often we asked the question when papers were returned covered with more red ink than the federal deficit. The response, from a teacher weary of responding, was simply a silent glare.
We stumbled through the course, passed narrowly, and graduated into the real world. As the years went by our journey toward being grown up was haunted by the thought that sooner or later we would be forced to solve an algebraic equation, we would have to use advanced mathematical logic. Like some ghost concocted of x's, a's and b's, it loomed over our path.
But it never came down. We went from this job to that, experienced these and those, went hither and yon, and not once were we asked to be logical, not once did we have to solve for x. We kept expecting the worst and it never came. That fear, instilled when we were impressionable youths, we decided was merely a mean-spirited ploy of an algebra teacher intent on making us complete our homework. The answer to "Why am I in algebra class" we concluded was "For no reason at all."
Or so we thought.
Last week the tallest of the short people came home from school with an innocent looking piece of paper. At the top was mimeographed "A real world problem." Below was printed.
"A certain breed of cow has the following characteristics: at the age of 3, and every year thereafter, it gives birth to a new female; each of these goes through the same cycle. Now, disregarding males and deaths, how many cows would there be in the herd after 20 years if a farmer started with one such animal at birth?"
There it was! The ghost we thought we had dispelled. Brought to us on a white piece of paper by our first born!
"Can you help me with this?" she asked, knowing from experience that we would.
We read the question, shrugged our shoulders, handed it back to her and walked away, shoulders down. She stood there in painful disbelief, looking like a child who has just had her fingers inadvertently slammed in a door by a parent.
In that look the answer to the eternal question of why we take algebra class was revealed.... ~T.Stucky