The Template

I was remembering math class.
I happened to walk down a stationary aisle in the store and saw some protractors.
It brought me back to when I learned about measuring angles.
The instrument that was to be used to measure angles I wanted to use to trace things.

I could trace the half circle and create all kinds of things.
I could make my own angles and create wonderful pictures.
I enjoyed the creative side of learning about angles.
I did not like the mathematical side of measuring them.

I learned the names of all the angles.
An acute angle was less than 90 degrees.
A right angle was exactly 90 degrees.
An obtuse angle was greater than 90 degrees.

Then we learned straight angles that were 180 degrees.
And of course reflex angles which were greater than 180 degrees.
That always bothered me since a straight angle was simply a straight line.
I could never understand why a straight line would be considered an angle.

I thought too much.
I saw all the lines and angles artistically.
I failed to see them mathematically.
I enjoyed the pictures I could make with angles but cared nothing about measuring them.

Right around the time I entered high school, the math curriculum was changed.
It was a program from England and our class was the test case.
The acronym SMP stood for the Student Mathematics Project.
That math curriculum was an albatross around my neck.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote a poem called, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
In this poem a mariner shoots an albatross.
The mariner is obliged to carry the burden of the bird around his neck.
This was to be his punishment and serve as a reminder for his deed.

That is where the analogy breaks down.
I did nothing to deserve this math program as a punishment.
Someone decided that this math curriculum would be beneficial to our development.
It was a huge mistake.

My husband was in my math class.
I watched him sitting in the front of the room right next to the window.
I saw that he understood what was being taught.
I sat in the back of the room and all the people around me struggled as much as I did.

Even the words were spelled differently, which should not have been a problem.
Words like center was spelled the British way: centre.
That was all well and good until the spelling carried over into my writing elsewhere.
I liked the way centre and theatre looked when I wrote those words on my paper.

If you were planning to be an engineer, like my husband, this math was not an problem.
If you were not strong in science and math, this class was a terrible hindrance.
My grades that were usually very good, were not very good in this class.
The math curriculum was tried and found lacking; it was discontinued after we graduated.

My mother helped me in such a practical way with one chapter in particular.
It was a chapter on the rotation of geometrical figures.
What was so simple to so many was so difficult for me.
I just couldn’t see it; I could not mentally move a figure from one quadrant to another.

My children today would concur without even looking at my old test scores.
I am directionally challenged.
I really am.
I come out of a movie theater and turn the wrong way as I head towards the exit.

I think in details.
Minutia is important to me.
I do not think in the abstract.
I need hands-on learning.

My mother knew that so she came up with a solution.
She took a piece of plastic from a report cover and cut it into a square.
She drew a cross on the square in permanent marker making four quadrants.
She sat me down with a piece of graph paper.

She drew a triangle on the plastic square in the upper quadrant.
She handed me a compass and told me to stick the pointy end in the center of the cross.
I could actually rotate the piece of plastic the desired amount.
The triangle that was drawn on the plastic moved as I rotated the template.

I now could picture where the triangle would go if I had to move it.
I now could visibly see what other people could see in their mind’s eye.
I thought her idea was brilliant.
Now it was a matter of being allowed to use this template in class.

Apparently the teacher thought it was a great idea as well.
He not only approved its usage, he encouraged others to make a template as well.
My mother helped me see in reality what others could see in their mind.
Because of her idea, I did quite well and found other ways to learn.

Now faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what we do not see. (Hebrews 11:1)

Jesus did not like when people asked for signs.
Signs were an antithesis of faith.
I will believe if I have proof.
I will believe only if I can see.

Faith that needs proof is no faith at all.
Faith is trusting and knowing that God will do what He says.
Faith is believing that God has our best interest at heart.
Faith is persevering when it is hard to hold on.

God the Father knew that we needed help with our faith.
So He sent His Son, Jesus, to walk in our shoes.
Jesus, fully God and fully man, experienced everything we experience.
Jesus could identify with what it means to be human.

In Jesus, there is an actual Person that we see, and touch, and talk to.
Jesus is hands-on divinity in a human body.
Jesus is the Template that was pierced on the cross.
Jesus is the perfect Model that we follow.

As we twist and turn in our circumstances, Jesus is the constant.
Jesus is the Standard by which we measure everything else.
Jesus is the unchanging One.
We know where we are going through life’s twist and turns because of Him.

We, like the mariner, have the albatross of our sin around our neck.
Jesus took our sin on Himself.
Jesus took the punishment on Himself that we deserved.
Jesus the perfect Template; the one we mold ourselves after.

All of that came to mind as I walked down the stationary aisle.
Protractors and compasses mean so much more to me.
I am so grateful for my mother’s brilliant idea.
Little did I know how much it would mean all these years later.

 

2 responses to “The Template”

1. Regina, this is a personal favorite about the constancy of Christ. Couched in memories of how smart our moms were brings such comfort and yet such stark reality that you lost yours much too early. In the end, we benefit from those who know and love us best. Btw, I had a nightmare of a freshman math and was rescued in sophomore year with geometry.. . . by a teacher who cared;)

   Reply

   • Cathy,
     We survived! We actually thrived! We have our moms to thank. I don’t think we realized until much later the sweetness and simplicity of those times.
     Regina

     Reply