My life as a mathematics book
March 25, 2007 | 12:00am
THIS WEEK’S WINNER
Elmer delos Santos-Orbita, 59, is both an Eng-lish and a mathematics teacher. Oftentimes this rare combination creates wonder, if not disbelief, among his students. He graduated with an English degree from Ateneo de Naga University. He took up Civil Engineering at the University of Nueva Caceres, and a master’s in science in teaching mathematics at the Ateneo de Naga, where he is now chairman of the high school mathematics dep-artment.
Last Christmas we had our family exchange gifts. My wife excitedly peeled off the wrapper, and in front of her was a math book, Spirituality in Mathematics, which I wrote. She just smiled, but she didn’t kiss me. She always kisses me every time I give her a gift. She must have felt that a math book as a Christmas gift was inappropriate. Indeed, it seemed irrelevant because of the word "mathematics" in the title. My wife is an English teacher, and maybe if it was a collection of quotations, poems or short stories, the gift would have been deemed relevant.
Few people like numbers. Fewer people like algebra, geometry, and other mathematics books. My life as a boy was like a math book. In my neighborhood, few boys would play with me. Very few. I did not know why.
Maybe, like a mathematics book, I was irrelevant. Mathematics books are seldom borrowed from the library and they remain unread until the due date. So was it with me. I was seldom invited to games, or when invited, I played the negligible roles. Moreover, if I committed a mistake, I alone suffered the blame. They held me accountable for losing the game, followed by mockery and insults. All I knew was that the affluent boys played the major roles in the game, and they had the loudest voices. The louder the voice, the more it was imperative to obey them. Disobedience meant disqualification or a hard punch to the chest.
Indeed, all I knew was that they were affluent, even if status was unimportant to me. I didn’t pay attention to what I ate for breakfast or what I wore. My stomach was used to dried fish and fried rice, or boiled camote when rice ran out. This could have been my irrelevance. I ate what they did not eat, I wore what they did not wear. I lived in a house they could not bear the discomfort of living in. My house did not even have electric lights or a bathroom with a shower. They could not bathe themselves with water from a well in our yard. All I knew was that we were all boys who could play together regardless of social status.
My life as a boy was like mathematics. Just as mathematics requires patience, so did my life of poverty. I remained patient and generous. I shared my toys with them, but they just threw them away, saying they were not real toys. Sometimes their jokes hurt. One after the other, they would find a chance to hit me and run away. Once, I thought the mother of one of them could save me, but she just pretended she did not see anything. Instead, she waved her hand to drive me away.
Patience. This value is groomed in mathematics as it is groomed in poverty. In patience there is hope. Hope, however, does not come at once. My high school days at the Ateneo de Naga were days of struggle also. I can even now recall my first day in high school. I was scared. The assembly hall was filled with many boys who sporadically shouted and laughed. Many were happy to see each other again. They told stories about their vacations and the fun they had had. Some teased each other and slapped each other’s backs.
I felt all alone.
My first day in high school told me that I enrolled in the wrong school  it was an exclusive school for rich boys. I was sure that I would do well in my academics, could bear the discrimination of arrogant boys, and forego snacks at recess time, but I doubted if my parents could bear my school expenses for four years.
One who tackles math must think and find ways to apply math principles until the problem is solved. I had to find ways to meet my expenses. I solicited things that I needed. My uniforms were second-hand white polo shirts, khaki pants, and black shoes. All were doled out by my cousins. My shoes did not fit. I pushed crumpled paper inside so that my feet would fit. This did not matter to me at all. I had accepted that my parents could not afford to buy me new things.
Every month for two years, my name appeared on the Exodus list. The boys who had not settled their tuition fees were deprived of attending classes. The Prefect of Discipline kept us in a classroom and we copied paragraphs as many times as time allowed. Our parents were forced to ransom us from that sort of captivity and punishment by paying our overdue accounts.
It was like a mathematics book that brings many to disappointment and embarrassment. One who tackles mathematics must expect that his results might come out funny and far from the correct answers, and bring disappointment. The errors must not be a reason for giving up. Committing mistakes in math exercises is natural. There is only one choice. Don’t give up. Think and solve again.
There is, too, only one choice in poverty. Don’t quit. Scarcity of money is a natural phenomenon also. Accept it. Acceptance is a mathematical attitude because in mathematics we make assumptions about the elements of a set or about their properties to be true, even in the absence of proof. These assumptions are called axiom or postulates and without them mathematics will not grow. True also about life. There are situations that are better accepted rather than questioned.
My parents could not secure my ransom. I talked to Fr. A. Orth, SJ, the Father Treasurer of Ateneo de Naga that time, and explained the difficulties my parents were facing. I was very lucky that the Jesuits are kind priests. I was told to execute a promissory note every month. That would give my parents sufficient time to settle my tuition fee and I would be excluded from the Exodus list. This happened until my high school graduation day.
First impressions may be wrong and I made a mistake thinking that Ateneo de Naga was for rich boys only. Jesuit education is for all. Rich and poor were  and are  welcome at Ateneo de Naga. It is a school for good boys and those who are serious in their academics. It kicks out bums, wise guys, and those who do things just for fun. It teaches you justice and honesty. Picking on first-year and second-year boys is taboo. As our school song goes: "Through boyhood days and manhood years, high shall our purpose be..."
It was in our classrooms that we were transformed from boys to men, and a man must be precise and sure of himself. My life in Ateneo was like mathematics because mathematics requires precision, just as Ateneo taught us to be precise, and where there is precision, honesty is born. Corollary to that, justice is born, too. These are the values that a man must exhibit.
Life is not a disappointment all the time. Boyhood is temporary. My boyhood is gone, and gone are the arrogance, discrimination and disappointments. Mathematics also is not a disappointment all the time. Contrary to discrimination, mathematics draws people to group and study together. It is in mathematics that people cultivate humility. It is here that one admits his limitations. It is in mathematics that people accept each other.
It is in this beauty that I taught mathematics for 25 years at Ateneo de Naga University. Teaching mathematics is fulfilling  seeing students in groups working together and teaching each other is a lesson in humility. Everybody recognizes that nobody has a monopoly on knowledge. Even those that aspire for honors are humbled by mathematics; even the fast learners are curtailed of outsmarting somebody.
The beauty of mathematics does not lie in obtaining perfect scores in the exercises. The slowly developing sense of organization and neatness is a pleasant creativity, and from which clarity evolves.
The beauty of mathematics is a remnant of God’s beautiful creation. Mathematics recognizes that God exists, and that He is in control of all things, all animals and birds, and all the people on earth. He controls His entire creation. The architectural design of the galaxies follows His laws so that the moon, the stars, and all the planets remain where they are now. In God is mathematics because in Him is precision. If in precision we see God, then to be precise we must.
My entire life since birth has been like a mathematics book, and I have enjoyed it that way.
Elmer delos Santos-Orbita, 59, is both an Eng-lish and a mathematics teacher. Oftentimes this rare combination creates wonder, if not disbelief, among his students. He graduated with an English degree from Ateneo de Naga University. He took up Civil Engineering at the University of Nueva Caceres, and a master’s in science in teaching mathematics at the Ateneo de Naga, where he is now chairman of the high school mathematics dep-artment.
Last Christmas we had our family exchange gifts. My wife excitedly peeled off the wrapper, and in front of her was a math book, Spirituality in Mathematics, which I wrote. She just smiled, but she didn’t kiss me. She always kisses me every time I give her a gift. She must have felt that a math book as a Christmas gift was inappropriate. Indeed, it seemed irrelevant because of the word "mathematics" in the title. My wife is an English teacher, and maybe if it was a collection of quotations, poems or short stories, the gift would have been deemed relevant.
Few people like numbers. Fewer people like algebra, geometry, and other mathematics books. My life as a boy was like a math book. In my neighborhood, few boys would play with me. Very few. I did not know why.
Maybe, like a mathematics book, I was irrelevant. Mathematics books are seldom borrowed from the library and they remain unread until the due date. So was it with me. I was seldom invited to games, or when invited, I played the negligible roles. Moreover, if I committed a mistake, I alone suffered the blame. They held me accountable for losing the game, followed by mockery and insults. All I knew was that the affluent boys played the major roles in the game, and they had the loudest voices. The louder the voice, the more it was imperative to obey them. Disobedience meant disqualification or a hard punch to the chest.
Indeed, all I knew was that they were affluent, even if status was unimportant to me. I didn’t pay attention to what I ate for breakfast or what I wore. My stomach was used to dried fish and fried rice, or boiled camote when rice ran out. This could have been my irrelevance. I ate what they did not eat, I wore what they did not wear. I lived in a house they could not bear the discomfort of living in. My house did not even have electric lights or a bathroom with a shower. They could not bathe themselves with water from a well in our yard. All I knew was that we were all boys who could play together regardless of social status.
My life as a boy was like mathematics. Just as mathematics requires patience, so did my life of poverty. I remained patient and generous. I shared my toys with them, but they just threw them away, saying they were not real toys. Sometimes their jokes hurt. One after the other, they would find a chance to hit me and run away. Once, I thought the mother of one of them could save me, but she just pretended she did not see anything. Instead, she waved her hand to drive me away.
Patience. This value is groomed in mathematics as it is groomed in poverty. In patience there is hope. Hope, however, does not come at once. My high school days at the Ateneo de Naga were days of struggle also. I can even now recall my first day in high school. I was scared. The assembly hall was filled with many boys who sporadically shouted and laughed. Many were happy to see each other again. They told stories about their vacations and the fun they had had. Some teased each other and slapped each other’s backs.
I felt all alone.
My first day in high school told me that I enrolled in the wrong school  it was an exclusive school for rich boys. I was sure that I would do well in my academics, could bear the discrimination of arrogant boys, and forego snacks at recess time, but I doubted if my parents could bear my school expenses for four years.
One who tackles math must think and find ways to apply math principles until the problem is solved. I had to find ways to meet my expenses. I solicited things that I needed. My uniforms were second-hand white polo shirts, khaki pants, and black shoes. All were doled out by my cousins. My shoes did not fit. I pushed crumpled paper inside so that my feet would fit. This did not matter to me at all. I had accepted that my parents could not afford to buy me new things.
Every month for two years, my name appeared on the Exodus list. The boys who had not settled their tuition fees were deprived of attending classes. The Prefect of Discipline kept us in a classroom and we copied paragraphs as many times as time allowed. Our parents were forced to ransom us from that sort of captivity and punishment by paying our overdue accounts.
It was like a mathematics book that brings many to disappointment and embarrassment. One who tackles mathematics must expect that his results might come out funny and far from the correct answers, and bring disappointment. The errors must not be a reason for giving up. Committing mistakes in math exercises is natural. There is only one choice. Don’t give up. Think and solve again.
There is, too, only one choice in poverty. Don’t quit. Scarcity of money is a natural phenomenon also. Accept it. Acceptance is a mathematical attitude because in mathematics we make assumptions about the elements of a set or about their properties to be true, even in the absence of proof. These assumptions are called axiom or postulates and without them mathematics will not grow. True also about life. There are situations that are better accepted rather than questioned.
My parents could not secure my ransom. I talked to Fr. A. Orth, SJ, the Father Treasurer of Ateneo de Naga that time, and explained the difficulties my parents were facing. I was very lucky that the Jesuits are kind priests. I was told to execute a promissory note every month. That would give my parents sufficient time to settle my tuition fee and I would be excluded from the Exodus list. This happened until my high school graduation day.
First impressions may be wrong and I made a mistake thinking that Ateneo de Naga was for rich boys only. Jesuit education is for all. Rich and poor were  and are  welcome at Ateneo de Naga. It is a school for good boys and those who are serious in their academics. It kicks out bums, wise guys, and those who do things just for fun. It teaches you justice and honesty. Picking on first-year and second-year boys is taboo. As our school song goes: "Through boyhood days and manhood years, high shall our purpose be..."
It was in our classrooms that we were transformed from boys to men, and a man must be precise and sure of himself. My life in Ateneo was like mathematics because mathematics requires precision, just as Ateneo taught us to be precise, and where there is precision, honesty is born. Corollary to that, justice is born, too. These are the values that a man must exhibit.
Life is not a disappointment all the time. Boyhood is temporary. My boyhood is gone, and gone are the arrogance, discrimination and disappointments. Mathematics also is not a disappointment all the time. Contrary to discrimination, mathematics draws people to group and study together. It is in mathematics that people cultivate humility. It is here that one admits his limitations. It is in mathematics that people accept each other.
It is in this beauty that I taught mathematics for 25 years at Ateneo de Naga University. Teaching mathematics is fulfilling  seeing students in groups working together and teaching each other is a lesson in humility. Everybody recognizes that nobody has a monopoly on knowledge. Even those that aspire for honors are humbled by mathematics; even the fast learners are curtailed of outsmarting somebody.
The beauty of mathematics does not lie in obtaining perfect scores in the exercises. The slowly developing sense of organization and neatness is a pleasant creativity, and from which clarity evolves.
The beauty of mathematics is a remnant of God’s beautiful creation. Mathematics recognizes that God exists, and that He is in control of all things, all animals and birds, and all the people on earth. He controls His entire creation. The architectural design of the galaxies follows His laws so that the moon, the stars, and all the planets remain where they are now. In God is mathematics because in Him is precision. If in precision we see God, then to be precise we must.
My entire life since birth has been like a mathematics book, and I have enjoyed it that way.
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