manhattan math
October 22, 2002
There's a unique character to kids who live in Manhattan, something that distinguishes them, beyond the obvious images of necks craned upwards at impossibly tall buildings, or splay-limbed sprints down endless miles of sidewalk. I think it's that they understand the intrinsically skewed mathematics of this city by using the same leaps of illogic that allow them to question things like why the alphabet has to be in alphabetical order. There's a lot to be said for any lifestyle based on constant questions and the strain of constantly learning new things.
I saw a woman leading her young daughter into the bagel shop. The mother was mid 30s, I think, and the girl must've been 6 years old, maybe 7. She trailed behind her mother and came to a stop in front of a glass case of bagels that stretched to nearly twice her height.
I hadn't listened to their conversation at first, but her bright tone and measured words made it clear that she was a smart young girl. Being a bachelor with few friends who are parents, I always forget that there can be children who are calm. But this woman's daughter didn't seem like the sort who'd need any more distraction than worrying a loose tooth in order to keep her occupied. I'd imagine that this young girl is the sort that her elders would refer to as a "little lady".
She stood patiently as her mother ordered a cup of coffee, waiting until the man behind the counter in the paper hat prompted her for the rest of her order by pointing the dull end of his bread knife.
"I'll get a dozen bagels... give me 7 plain and 7 everything."
While my mind wandered to what kind of office had such a binary distribution of bagel tastes, the little girl turned away from the glass case to ask her mother a few questions.
"A dozen is twelve, right?"
"Right."
"And a baker's dozen is thirteen?"
"Yes."
"Seven and seven is fourteen."
"Yup."
The little girl then turned back to face the wall of bagels in front of her. "Okay," she said.
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You can't write for shit. You understand that "question," Anil-hole?
That's a good point. Thanks for your feedback.
I'm curious to know if you were an unruly child or a well-behaved one. haha.
For myself, my mother says I was extremely well-behaved as a child. You can ask her yourself if you don't believe me. ;)
In my opinion, kids are kids, there are all kinds everywhere. And the reason people who haven't been exposed to a lot of children think that children tend to scream & cry & be unruly is because they are the ones that invariably get noticed the most in public.
Is this the sort of 'feedback' you were looking for, Anil?
heh. ;)
You are the clever one, sly boots.
Hey, I understand this is the site for knee-jerk Jew haters, like me.
Gosh, too bad about that WTC thing. It really got in the way of my Bush bashing.
hey where's all the great netscape tips you have?
Somehow I picture some of these trolls with a digital version of a burning cross.
That doesn't make a god damned bit of sense, monequin.
Watching my 4-year old son - it's a wonderful chance to re-examine the world through eyes that haven't been dimmed by seeing the same thing time after time, year after year.
Ever give a thought to how wonderful it is that airplanes can fly, or how great it is the sun comes up in the morning? Or that an old railroad spike found by a section of abandoned track can be a treasure, because it was near a train?
Sometimes I think we don't learn enough that we should from children, and they learn way too much from adults that they shouldn't...
J.
New York kids amaze me, too; they're always so willing to roll with the punches. However, they also mature too quickly, in my opinion; school-age kids who are just plain used to taking cabs to and fro, riding the subway to school, and sharing their playground with a couple thousand of their closest friends makes a kid a little different than the suburban idyllic one that I imagine.
That being said, New York kids are the perfect chronic patients -- tough, gritty, able to handle anything that you throw at them. It's sorta fun.
(And I see that the LGFers are now coming to start shit here? That's just sad.)
JLawson... though your comment I've heard a million times from various parent people, I still enjoy hearing it.
Though I have to say, you don't have to have children of your own to experience that, because I hit a point some years ago, without children, where I started to appreciate things like that again.
Surely people would be happier if they can catch a little of that on a regular basis - even without having to do it via their children.
I don't know, but I have always thought New York was not a healthy place to raise kids. The only thing kids learn here is competitiveness. No compassion, no understanding, no selflessness. Despite the diversity, kids here rarely learn to accept others. We "tolerate."
Also, there is that difference between raised New Yorkers and those who merely live here with their kids.
I used to feel the same way, that kids who grew up in this city were "harder", somehow. But the more I talk to them, the more I realize that they're just as gooey on the inside as the rest of us. Heh.
now you see, my son asks me these questions all the time. i love to see how his mind processes these things. and seriously: a dozen is 12, a baker's dozen is 13, why 14?
it's a good question.
I worked with inner city kids for about three years after high school, and many had the tough "streetwise" bravado that Jason talked about above. These were 6-10 year olds, many of them had brothers who were in gangs some would come in talking about the shots they heard last night, and others really just started to "dry up" or become immune to it all. But then these kids would soften up and be kids when a kickball game happened along, or we got them back to nature. But when your guard was down they would talk about some crap going down in their home in the same breath as "I want a Power Ranger".
Equally entertaining to watch is the formulation of a child's first lie. Its a truly humbling moment that speaks of the complexity of imagination and the innosense of youth. When my nephew tries to pull one over me (he's 4), I always have to laugh. Its very cute.
Of course, he hates it and then proceeds to call me a meanie and stomp around and act made, but he's always looking at me through the corner of the eye. An obvious attempt to manipulate me. Makes me laugh even more. And he gets even angrier. Kids are fun. :)
In many bagel shops you get a free bagel with every six you order... So fourteen bagels is a dozen, plus two freebies.
That is all.