by: Tanya Chang, Lila Zamansky
Sports Editor, Media Production Editor

Growing up, kids immerse themselves in many experiences: playdates, intense rounds of hopscotch, or day-long visits to the neighbor’s house. Each kid has different recollections from their childhood; however, one collective memory we guarantee that any kid would get triggered by is these three infamous letters, I…X…L. If you’re not familiar, IXL is an academic nightmare where math practice tortures. Think it ends there? Of course not, why would you ever think that, because our town has so many places for math tutoring? If you outgrow one place, don’t worry, you just get to go to another.

In middle school, teachers tell their students that IXL will be a fun learning activity that takes 10-15 minutes tops. Being the innocent child you are, you believe it, but don’t be fooled by their gaslighting. It’s all fun and games until you are on your second-to-last question and you get one, ONE question wrong, and it brings you back down to zero. You think no worries, I will just answer the other questions right. NOPE. When you get a question right – if you’re lucky enough–it will raise your score by a single microscopic point. This quick “10-minute IXL” turns into a five-hour crashout while abusing the Chromebook that only has two pixels.

Now do NOT get us started on the Russian School of Math (RSM), Mathnasium, or Kumon. We both have endured too much trauma from these math establishments that have scarred us forever. Let us first describe what a day was like as an RSM student. Did we say RSM? Sorry, we meant hell.

Picture this: you get out from the most diabolical day at school, and all you can think about is an afternoon snack. But guess what? When your parents pick you up looking like they’ve reconnected with nature for a bit too long, they casually inform you about the two extra hours of math tutoring. Lucky you. You walk into the building and look around at your “peers,” who look unhealthily frightened. Great, now get ready, your two-hour algebra two session is about to start. As you walk in, you are greeted by the mustard yellow walls, and double lucky you, your teacher has such a THICK accent that is borderline incomprehensible. You already don’t understand anything that you’re learning, and to make matters worse, you can’t even comprehend what she is saying until she spontaneously calls your name (in the most mispronounced way) and asks if you could answer a question. You obviously get it wrong, and then she decides it’s time to slime you out and yell at you in gibberish. You honestly contemplate if you should just throw your desk at her. Now it’s time for a pop quiz. You fail because again, you are taking tenth-grade math as a sixth grader.

We acknowledge that this may only account for some for a select group of children who endured this, but our voices need to be heard. So the next time you encounter someone facing one of these horrendous experiences, you can do one of two things: give them a pat on the back while reassuring them, or, our preference, laugh and point because you should be glad you’re never going to be doing that again.