I remember once, as a child, learning the basics of subtraction. It was an exciting discovery; I now possessed the ability to undo every change I made with addition. I felt as though I had conquered the entire breadth of knowledge that mathematics had to offer. For a short time, I was the greatest mathematician in my neighborhood.
Then the worksheet came. It was single page of about 2 dozen problems, neatly handwritten in my mother’s smooth style. Each one I knew how to solve; these were banal three-digit subtraction questions. I glanced over them, noting their simplicity. I worked through each one as rapidly as my 4-or-5-year-old mind could think.
But one problem stood out in this page of prosaicness, inconspicuously placed halfway through the sheet. In the left margin was a simple note telling me to “ask Mommy” about this problem. I recall the form well. It was something similar to “407 – 352 = ?” I read the note and scoffed. I knew how subtraction worked; why would I need to seek help for this one, a mere trifle among trifles? It was simple. Four minus three is one; zero minus five is—well, you can’t subtract from zero, so that was zero; and seven minus two was five. There it was: 407 – 352 = 105. I finished the rest of the worksheet, handed it for grading, and went along my merry way.
Not long after, I was called back to review my progress. My mother returned my worksheet; as I expected, I had gotten every question right…except for the one I was supposed to ask about. I was horrified. The only word to describe my emotions at that moment is devastated. I cried. I thought I had learned all there was to know about the fine art of subtraction. Now, in one fell swoop, that belief was destroyed. In that moment, I realized something worse: I could have avoided the pain and agony had I simply followed the directions as they were meant to be followed.
After dusting off my shattered confidence, I learned two things that day. First and most importantly, asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but a mark of willingness and humility. And second, 407 – 352 = 55.