story problems
BY JERRY KRAFT
I have a problem with mathematics. It began long ago, early in elementary school, and has only gotten worse through the years. There are two components to my problem. The first is: I don't know anything about mathematics. The second is: I am a writer. To make matters worse, some demented teacher in some forgotten school long ago (probably in the age of Roman numerals) invented something called the "story problem." Talk about a set-up. They take numbers which are about nothing (and don't even have faces) and hide them in a story, which, even though it is lacking in literary merit, has potential. Then they expect you to spend your time working, not to make the story better, but to trick the numbers into becoming a different number. Like that would mean anything to anybody. Even worse, I have found that math teachers have virtually no imagination and rarely appreciate the creative work that goes into solving what I call "the story problem."
In any event, this all came back to me when my daughter recently brought home a page of story problems, allegedly designed to demonstrate her mastery of sixth-grade probability and statistics. She, because she is actually quite gifted in math and also derives a sadistic enjoyment from any activity that makes me look monstrously stupid, got all of the so-called answers "right." Here then, for your amusement, are the questions -- both her smug little correct answers and my vastly more imaginative and inevitably incorrect responses.
WASHINGTON STATE MATHEMATICS COUNCIL SIXTH GRADE PROBABILITY & STATISTICS
(Make sure you include the units in your answer!)
1) I have a bag of marbles containing the following: 8 red marbles, 16 blue marbles, 4 green marbles, 7 yellow marbles. What is the probability of drawing a marble that is not yellow? Express your answer as a fraction in lowest terms.
McKenna's answer: 4/5
Jerry’s answer: David McGurk is an unusual sixth grader. He stands six-feet-two-inches tall, weighs 285 pounds, and has a large tattoo of a coiling snake on his right forearm. He likes to play marbles, and he likes to collect marbles if they belong to someone else. His favorite marbles are yellow. The last time he came to recess (after spending four months in detention in an iron cage with a leather mask over his mouth) he saw that we were playing marbles and immediately came over to me -- much the way a hungry wolf would come to meet a newborn lamb. I had been doing some pretty good shooting, and had amassed four of the red marbles, seven blues, two greens, and even one of the prized yellows.
Suddenly a giant shadow blocked the sun. It was McGurk. It was my shot. There were only two marbles left inside the ring, a bright green and a yellow, almost centered and sitting side-by-side. I looked up at McGurk and silently handed him the single yellow that I had already won. At almost the same time, the rest of the guys silently handed him their yellow ones. I was determined to win and keep the last one, the one in the center of the circle.
I lowered my nose to half an inch from the ground. I sighted along an imaginary line directly at the yellow marble. I calmed my breathing and said a little prayer to the marble gods (I've seen them in museums), and I sent off a powerful shot. My plan was to knock the yellow marble out of the ring, jump to my feet, grab the marble and run.
Part of the plan worked. I knocked it out of the ring, directly over to McGurk who put his foot on top of it. I looked up at his big, ugly face and saw a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his grin. It was then that I realized my probability of ending up with a marble any color but yellow was 100%.
That's my answer.
2) The scores on Tabitha's 3 previous math quizzes were 86, 88, and 90. If she needs an average of 90 or more to get an "A," what is the lowest score she needs on her 4th test to get an "A" in math?
McKenna's answer: 96
Jerry's answer: As if. That Tabitha is a little tramp and everybody knows it. The only possible way she's been getting those good grades on her previous work is because she's been kissing Matt Hemingway in that little hidey place by the end of the lockers between math class and her third period gym. Also, I heard that last Friday she went to the movies with Matt, and they were sitting in the very back row and making out the whole time, and when she came out of the theater afterwards her blouse was buttoned all wrong. Now, you tell me. Everyone knows that Matt is like a math genius. The question isn't the lowest score she needs, but how low she'll go just to score. You do the math.
3) What is the value of "x" that will make the mean, median, and mode of this set of numbers all the same?
8, 5, 2, 8, 5, 2, x
McKenna's answer: 5
Jerry's answer: They called him "X" because nobody really knew where he came from, or what had happened to his home planet. From the time he was a young boy, he had hated those who were mean to others, and he had decided he would devote his life to doing good works; that became his mode of operation. For example, one day a local bully was pushing around a little girl, and he shoved her out into traffic. "X" changed from his usual school clothes into a fantastic costume in a fraction of a second, dashed into the street, and carried the girl safely to the median.
There is no way to really measure the value of "X."
4) A sandwich shop has 3 meats: ham, turkey, and roast beef. They have 2 kinds of bread: white and whole wheat. They have 4 choices of vegetable: lettuce, onions, tomato, pickle. They have 4 choices of dressing: Italian, Thousand Island, mustard, ketchup. If you select 1 meat, 1 bread, 2 different vegetables and 1 dressing, how many different sandwiches could the shop make?
McKenna's answer: 144
Jerry's answer: Nobody could remember how many days they had been stranded on the island. At this point, it didn’t really matter. They were doomed. The supplies were gone. All of the ham, all of the turkey, all of the roast beef. Fortunately, there was still wood left from the packing crates they had broken down, so they had a fire. Now, as the night grew darker and colder with every passing moment, Stephen realized how desperate their situation had become. As he looked across the flames at Donald -- poor, porky, chubby, juicy, little Donald -- all he could think about were the combinations: sourdough bread and Thousand Island, mustard and rye, a nice little side salad with lettuce, onions, tomato and pickles. His mouth began to water. "Donald," he said, "I think your number is up."
Yes, that was it. Donald was the answer.
5) In a video game, the player must fight a scaly monster in Room 1, a ninja warrior in Room 2, and a giant snake in Room 3. If the player gets through all 3 rooms, she has won! If 10 people play this video game, 8 get past the scaly monster. The ninja warrior is twice as difficult as the scaly monster, and the giant snake is twice as difficult as the ninja warrior. What is the average player's probability of winning this video game? State your answer as an exact percent.
McKenna's answer: 20%
Jerry's answer: There was a slight smirk on his face as he watched the children playing their silly video games. As they mindlessly stuck quarter after quarter into the machine, nimbly manipulating the controls in order to score points, he thought back to his own days as a real ninja warrior, under the training of the Grand Shallalla of Nepal. He didn’t think he would ever forget the day he had to combat a scale-covered ninja leading 27 poisonous snakes on leashes out of the cave where the secret treasure of the cursed math teacher had been hidden for centuries. "Ah, but that was a tale for another day's telling," he said quietly to himself. "Today there are 300 men trapped in a sunken submarine who need my help."
Now, here's the really sad part of my story. McKenna will get an "A" in math, be everybody's favorite little model student, and probably get double dessert. Meanwhile, I will be told once again that I'm not paying attention, and need to attend to the assignment rather than just letting my mind wander where it will. It's an old story. It reminds me of the time…but wait! How about 27?
Jerry Kraft is a playwright, poet, and journalist. He is the author of fifteen plays that have been produced or published, two volumes of poetry, and is a regular contributor to Living on the Peninsula magazine. He lives in Port Angeles, Washington with his wife Bridgett and their daughters McKenna and Luxie. He has many non-numerical talents. He can be reached at: stilljerry@gmail.com























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