One time, my eighth teacher told me, when she had me working general math problems on the blackboard, "If you can count to ten, you can do math, if you can walk and chew gum at the same time, you can do math, if you can come to school and find your way home, you can do math now work the problem pachuco!" (The term pachuco is the equivalent to the current term "cholo" in our hispanic culture.)

During my elementary school days, I spent more time in the arroyos (creeks caused by erosion due to rain) fishing and hunting than in school. I also spent a lot of time working in the fields as a migrant worker. Do you think I liked school during those days? Don't take me wrong. I did like school. My favorite grade was the eighth grade. I liked it so much, I even stayed their twice! Can you imagine what kind of educational background I had during my elementary school days? I entered the ninth at the age of sixteen since I had been retained in the eighth grade the previous year. By the time I wanted to concentrate on learning basic algebra, it was very hard since I had a very defective background in the prerequisites and learning in general. Many other distractions such as football, peers, and a job didn't help.

I could count, add, subtract, divide, and multiply, but that was it. For that, I am grateful to my eighth grade math teachers who used to beat me with a red stick every time I got a wrong answer, when I was called to work general math problems on the blackboard. I used to recall the long division process by linking each step to the sound of her rough German voice and the pain I suffered caused by each strike of the red stick on my head and shoulders. No doubt that this was child abuse at its best, but it resulted in something that I now value and appreciate very much. I have no complaints about Mrs. Edna Kennedy; on the other hand, I thank her for taking the time to care for me even though it was in a painful way. A lot us, who benefited from her way of caring for us, got to love her in a very special way and will always remember her for the rest of our lives. We even named an elementary school in her honor in our school district!

My first try at introduction to algebra was a complete disaster. It was like taking a math class in the Chinese language. Did I pass? I most certainly did not. I tried again with another teacher and I did a better, but not good enough. Now that I look back to those stressful days, the reason I passed algebra in high

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