A truly lazy day – and something that still lingers

A day like today. A truly lazy day.

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My little boy stayed home from school. He worked from home.
So today we learned about Hungary and studied geometry together.

My little girl was also home, but for her it was more about being sick.
She took out her math book too. Geometry.
A slightly higher level – area and parallelograms.

When it comes to math, I believe it’s about knowing the formulas.
And as long as the formula isn’t in your backbone, you write.
You draw the figure.
You write the formula.
You show every step until you understand.

Did she get upset with me?
Did it end with us not studying anymore?

Yes.
Once again, it ended the way it usually does.

I don’t seem to have the ability to help my daughter with her studies.
She doesn’t understand my explanations – they’re too complicated.
And I struggle when she looks in the answer key and just writes the correct answer.

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This is about me

This is about me. All the way.

My own school years were hard.
I finished ninth grade with failing marks across the board.
If it was possible to get crooked lines instead of grades, I had those too.

I slipped through on a banana peel.

A teacher once told me that continuing my education and finishing school would be difficult for me.
It wasn’t.
I actually did quite well.

But I never had homework.
And if I did, I didn’t do it – it felt pointless.

I wasn’t quite the way I was supposed to be.
Not the academic type.
At least, that’s what the teacher said.

Until I was 27 years old, I believed that was true.

It was my truth.
One that I – and the people around me – had bought at a discount.

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Reflection 2026

When I read this today, I see something I didn’t see back then.

I see a mother who wasn’t arguing about math.
She was arguing with her own history.

Every time my daughter looked at the answer key without showing her steps,
it echoed the classroom I once sat in.
As if someone was still standing there saying I didn’t have “a head for studying.”

It was never about formulas.
It was about worth.

Today I know I didn’t lack ability.
I lacked the right kind of understanding.

And maybe that’s why I still want children to show their steps.
Not because they have to prove something –
but because no one should ever feel they don’t understand.

That truth we bought at a discount?
It was never really mine.