A computer is a box where decisions are made.

Emma is learning a new math. Not the "new" math from my childhood, but a NEW new math.

Maybe it's even the NEW new new math.

I don't want to explain it, but basically it's very empirical, which means that kids guess a lot, and work out division problems by making a boatload of multiplication problems.

It's kind of like learning to spell without learning the alphabet.

It's like giving a child an encyclopedia when they need a dictionary.

So, after months of a formalized hit-and-miss approach, they finally teach the kids long division.

But Emma can't get it.

I keep showing her, over and over, and try to make her see that all the problems are THE SAME, but each time for her it's individual; it's new.  She can't abstract the process from the examples.

Nelson's tried to explain it too.

Emma gets frustrated, and so do I.

And I don't know what to do.  I point it out, tell her to line up the numbers.  Start from the left and work your way right.  For her, it's like voodoo.

At the same time, she calls it "the standard algorithm" -- which I find a bit disturbing.  I feel that for Emma, it's an exalted name for a mystery.  It's almost a guarantee of incomprehension.

As I struggle to help Emma to get it, I keep remembering the Math nun.

Back in high school, the Math nun told me that I probably wouldn't be a good Math teacher.

"People who had trouble learning Math make better Math teachers, because they understand how someone else can have trouble understanding.  But you're bright, so you can't relate."

She was one of my best teachers.  And I only thought, just now, that maybe she was talking about herself.

So... Emma ended up going to her friend's house (she's still there), so I knocked the two didgeridoos together myself.  One is four feet long, and the other is five.

I managed to make the drone with each of them...  Nelson came and closed the door.

"Hey, I'm doing this for you," I called.  "It's to stop my snoring!"

"No," he countered, "It's just so you can make crazy noises.  Where did you think you were going to play that, anyway?"

"The Public Garden?  In the early morning?"

He rolled his eyes.

[Note added later:]  Emma had fun with hers, making blats, farts, and elephant noises.  I tried to show her what the drone sounded like, but she couldn't get it.  Now I find my gums and the skin around my mouth is a bit swollen.  I did wash the business end of the thing off with soap and water, but I guess there's something that irritates my skin...  I guess I'll have to do the traditional thing and make a mouthpiece out of beeswax.

I'm not usually bothered by allergies, but today I was sneezing my head off and my eyes were so itchy that I couldn't stop rubbing them.

DISCLAIMER:  I'm not a doctor or health professional, and probably what I did is incredibly stupid, but anyway...

I took a generic clone of Claritin, which worked surprisingly quickly, but my eyes kept itching and itching, and after I rubbed the hell out of them, I suddenly remembered something about cayenne pepper in the eyes.

That's about all I remembered, but I shook a bit of the red stuff into my palm, and with a wet forefinger transferred some of the grains to each eye.

Guess what happened?  They started burning like mad!  I ran to the bathroom and washed them with cold water until the burning stopped.  Still, each time I blinked, it burned, so I kept a cold washcloth on them until my eyes felt normal.  I must have put a lot in there, because the washcloth was stained orangy-red.

Emma cried, "What are you, crazy?  Now they itch even more, right?"

Me: "No, actually, they just burn, but they don't itch."

Now my eyes feel great.

Still, I'm sure I overdid it.  I've tried to Google some better instructions, because I think there is a danger of burning something, but it did the trick, in spite of Emma's incredulous laughter.