“Engine No. 1” by Scott Fagerland drawn for “P is for Papa Train” ©2000: Scott was in sixth grade when he illustrated the book; he was a problem-solver of the highest caliber.

By SYDNEY STEVENS

Observer columnist

If a train travels north at 100 mph and…

“It’s all a hoax, anyway!” was the angry retort a few weeks back. Our governor was directing the shut-down of all bars and restaurants and it was a woman I know who was talking. “This whole pandemic thing is just media hype,” she said.

My immediate, knee-jerk thought was, “I’ll bet you sucked at story problems in elementary school.” My out-loud response was not quite as kind, but I knew it would do little good. Trying to explain things to a rock is seldom successful. Not one who is a mother and a grandmother and actually manages her life fairly well. Or so I’ve always thought.

But, somewhere along the way, probably when I was still in elementary school myself, a teacher told the class, “You’ll soon learn that, like your homework assignment, life is just a series of problems to solve. The better you are at solving them, the better your life will be.” I think these days story problems are called “thinking strategies.” Even more daunting, if you ask me.

Choices

I don’t know if I was still a student or had already become a teacher when I began to realize that the bigger situation — as in when and how to complete those math assignments — was a problem in itself. Some kids practiced the avoidance technique. In class it was endless trips to the pencil sharpener. If it was a homework assignment, they forgot to take the math book home or there was the old standby, the dog ate my work, or better yet, my book.

“It’s a hoax!” she said. That response surely is the coronavirus equivalent of avoiding the entire thing. Don’t think it through. Don’t think about it at all. Don’t find out for yourself. Just repeat what someone else is saying. It’s oh so much easier! “A hoax!” She was adamant. And angry. Immediately several people around her went quiet! Avoiding an unpleasant discussion, perhaps. Put a label on it and, by all means, don’t examine the problem closely. And, above all, avoid examining your own feelings. Oh, so much easier.

I think, too, that the avoidance folks might just include the whiners, as well. “Oh, it’s so hard not to hug. Or to at least give a handshake.” “I’m so bored.” “How can I possibly manage without an extra bundle of toilet paper in my storage unit?” Honestly! I’ve heard every one of these self-serving complaints. And, I ask you, “How do any of them help solve the problem or even confront it head on?” In school we called them “the spoiled brats.” Some things don’t change.

Then there were the cheaters. There still are, of course. They can’t seem to help themselves. They slyly copy from the kid in front of them or flat-out ask for the answer. Never mind that they don’t have a clue about the problem, itself, much less how to deal with it. Those are the kids who could often talk their way out of trouble — a skill in its own right but not always useful. In real life, cheaters sometimes are harder to pinpoint. They’re the ones who pay lip-service to hand-washing and to sanitizing and, perhaps even to distancing themselves from others. They likely find ways to make money even as the stock market tanks and, of course, the travel bans and distancing suggestions apply to others, never to them.

And as if that weren’t enough, they may also be the ones who have been touting the conspiracy theories — “Those people over there concocted the virus in a lab” or “They have the antidote but they just want to lessen the odds at the election.” By my reckoning, they’re right in the middle of the cheating category. No desire to think for themselves or to weigh evidence or to ask hard questions, especially not from reluctant and vociferous authority figures.

Hooray for the problem-solvers!

Finally, there are the nerds like me. We found those story problems a satisfying puzzle and actually enjoyed the problem-solving process. But we got ourselves into trouble, too. We still do. We are the ones who always had another question to ask. We irritated the other kids. They didn’t want to wait for answers; they wanted recess.

I thought about all of this again as I watched the astonishing exchange between NBC news reporter, Peter Alexander, and our country’s fearsome leader (and, presumably, role model) for millions of little story-problem solvers in today’s schools. I think that Peter Alexander (and most other reporters) loved story problems when they were in school. And probably still do. Each answer leads to another question; a stupid answer leads to persistence by the questioner.

A good teacher loves that kid. A bad teacher (or in Peter Alexander’s case, the bad leader) often resorts to rude behavior of one kind or another — much like a cornered animal. If I knew Peter, I’d console him with my own personal words to live by in such instances: “There is no substitute for brains.”

Of course, story problems in math aren’t for everyone. I think the same correlation could be made as easily between that sort of problem-solving and success in science or creative writing or foreign language or athletics. To do anything well requires problem solving of some sort. When it comes to a health crisis, it’s what we hope our doctors and nurses and hospital administrators are good at. That, and a few excellent communication skills. Oh, but wait! That’s what we depend upon our journalists for! Thank goodness for the Peter Alexanders of our world!

Didn’t someone say, “It takes a village”? She was right, you know…