After years of homeschooling my kids, I finally let them return to traditional school. I wasn’t expecting miracles. I just hoped they’d be able to survive math in a classroom setting.
But in the back of my mind, I feared the impostor in me was about to be exposed. Had I really taught them enough? Had I done the subject justice?
Then something happened.
My son started sharing stories from school, and they weren’t about him struggling. He told me how classmates would ask him for help, and how he often found himself standing at the whiteboard, explaining solutions to the room.
“Really?” I could hardly believe it.
He still asked me for help sometimes, but his questions became fewer and fewer until they stopped altogether. It wasn’t because he no longer wanted my support. He just had enough confidence and determination to figure things out on his own.
One day, I walked into his room and saw him on a Zoom call with his classmates. There he was, patiently explaining the steps to a math problem they had all been stumped on. He broke it down and simplified it, making it easy for them to catch up.
My momma heart was absolutely beaming.
A few weeks later, I attended a PTA meeting. I tend to stay low-key at these gatherings, carefully avoiding attention so I don’t land myself with extra responsibilities. As parents began sharing their children’s experiences, one woman spoke up about her nephew, a new student from the province who wasn’t very tech-savvy.
She shared how she once saw him on a video call where a classmate was patiently teaching him and the rest of the group math. She was amazed by the way the kids helped each other, and how much that support had meant to her nephew.
I sat there listening, realizing she was talking about my son.
I had spent years doubting myself, believing I wasn’t fit to teach math. I thought I was just stumbling through it, praying my kids wouldn’t inherit my academic trauma. But the truth was, I had taught them something far more valuable than formulas and equations. I had given them patience, resilience, and the confidence to find solutions on their own.
Math had been my weakness, but my son turned it into his strength.
And maybe, just maybe, that means I did something right.
