Between my seventh- and eighth grade year, my father moved our family from the ugly and arid wasteland of Las Vegas back to his hometown in southern Utah. While we finished up the school year, he moved on ahead of us, found us a home, and registered us kids for school. So I can honestly say I had no hand in the fateful decision that landed me in my first algebra class. That seminal event began a years-long love/hate relationship with math. Mostly it wasn't love.

By the time I finished college, I could calculate the area or volume of just about any object a math book author could devise. But I have no idea why your average human being would want to do that. And neither did most of my professors: Their response was usually swomething like "Who wouldn't want to know this stuff?" But then, math professors are definitely not average human beings.

Continued...