I loved my eighth grade math teacher. His name was/is Mr. Reed.
Mr. Reed had been teaching over in Africa for a few years before he returned to the states. What I remember best about him is that he was very nice, very interested in us, and seemed to love what he was doing.
His job was to teach us how to divide big numbers with long division method. I found it very elementary, and suggested a way to do it that I developed when I used to calculate ERAs, batting averages, and points per game. I don't know what he thought about an eighth-grader challenging conventional math theory, but he did allow me to explain how I did it.
After listening to me, he told me that it wouldn't work with large numbers. I told him I could prove it would, and asked him to give me a problem. He wrote what appeared to be large numbers on the black board and handed me the chalk.
I did my grid, and had the problem solved in about 45 seconds.
The other kids laughed at him.
That tore me apart, because I was trying to impress him, not show him up. It bothers me to this day.
Mr. Reed, thank you for the opportunity, and I'm sorry for accepting it in front of the class.
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