The weird connection between mothers, daughters and math

At age 12, I started sulking about math. Up until sixth grade, math was effortless, if not as fun as reading. But now I had to work at it. It made me feel stupid, even though my grades weren’t bad, mostly B’s and C’s.

“It’s okay to be bad at math,” my mother told me. “I’m not good at math, either.” Her tone was sympathetic, if a bit exasperated. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this exact conversation that year.

My mother and I never had much in common. She knows how to walk into a room and own it; I skulk in the shadows. She had perfect eyesight well into middle age; I was severely astigmatic and nearsighted in first grade. Her taste in clothing and accessories has always been flawless; I am always in need of a makeover. I knew she loved me, but I sensed early I was never the daughter she dreamed of. Had there been a daughter store, I was sure I’d have been left on the shelf for another model.

So when I repeatedly heard that year that it was okay to be bad at math because she was, too, I clung to this bond, hoping we’d get closer through our shared weakness.

That was a mistake, and I became a statistic. Research shows 9 through 14 is the crucial age span for getting kids interested in math. Once they lose interest, they don’t pursue careers in STEM or finance, which tend to be higher-paying. Researchers have found that girls are more likely to worry about their math ability than boys, even if in reality they do as well in class and on tests.

My mom’s approach to my concerns, or the fallout, weren’t unusual. Mothers who think they’re bad at math risk passing on those feelings to their children, and daughters are particularly susceptible, since the same-sex parent is their model for adulthood. And research has shown that mothers are far more likely to encourage their sons than their daughters to engage in mathematical thinking.

confuzzled dude wrote:

At age 12, I started sulking about math. Up until sixth grade, math was effortless, if not as fun as reading. But now I had to work at it. It made me feel stupid, even though my grades weren’t bad, mostly B’s and C’s.

“It’s okay to be bad at math,” my mother told me. “I’m not good at math, either.” Her tone was sympathetic, if a bit exasperated. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this exact conversation that year.

My mother and I never had much in common. She knows how to walk into a room and own it; I skulk in the shadows. She had perfect eyesight well into middle age; I was severely astigmatic and nearsighted in first grade. Her taste in clothing and accessories has always been flawless; I am always in need of a makeover. I knew she loved me, but I sensed early I was never the daughter she dreamed of. Had there been a daughter store, I was sure I’d have been left on the shelf for another model.

So when I repeatedly heard that year that it was okay to be bad at math because she was, too, I clung to this bond, hoping we’d get closer through our shared weakness.

That was a mistake, and I became a statistic. Research shows 9 through 14 is the crucial age span for getting kids interested in math. Once they lose interest, they don’t pursue careers in STEM or finance, which tend to be higher-paying. Researchers have found that girls are more likely to worry about their math ability than boys, even if in reality they do as well in class and on tests.

My mom’s approach to my concerns, or the fallout, weren’t unusual. Mothers who think they’re bad at math risk passing on those feelings to their children, and daughters are particularly susceptible, since the same-sex parent is their model for adulthood. And research has shown that mothers are far more likely to encourage their sons than their daughters to engage in mathematical thinking.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2015/08/04/why-did-i-give-up-on-math-ask-my-mom/