Wilson’s blonde hair transfers a glare from the fluorescent light bulbs in the classroom. His brown eyes gaze at the chalkboard filled with symbols and numbers. The 15 year boy seems to be doing okay. His acne is clearing up and cute girls are starting to flirt with him. The only problem is those things aren’t going to help Wilson with his geometry struggles. He writes down the notes over triangles but knows his flustered mind will just get the information lost.
Later that night Wilson’s mother, who hasn’t math class in over 25 years, tries to help him with sine, cosine, and tangent. “I don’t know how to do this Wilson.”
“Mom, just use SOHCAHTOA,” he says with the joy of actually remembering something.
His mother replies with frustration, “I don’t have time to look up stuff about Indians.”
“Mom, just leave my room. You’re no help!”
Anger flies from his mothers lips. “Fine, I will!” Her voice drained all silence from the whole house, “By the way if you don’t get at least a C on your next math test, your phone, iPod, and TV are gone for a month!” When Wilson’s mother is mad like this, it’s always a good idea for the neighbors to go out of town for awhile. She’s never violent just extremely loud for a few days until she cools off.
The car ride to school the next morning is as silent as a movie in 1905. Thoughts whisk through Wilson’s mind of how he is going to do better in geometry. Getting a tutor seems like a good idea. Sheldon Fresco immediately comes to his mind since he’s the only kid who’s ever managed to get a 102% on a test.


Sheldon was the classic 1950’s genius. He wore big, black framed glasses, suspenders, and always had at least five pens in his chest pocket. He is more than happy to tutor Wilson for a fee. $15 for an hour session includes flash cards, color coordinated note taking, and brain food for a snack.
“Thanks a lot for the help, Sheldon.”
“No problem. Just remember if you need any more help to call. The test is tomorrow.”
With agony Wilson replies, “Ok, thanks again.” All Wilson did for two hours, from 6 to 8 pm to be precise was study triangles. Everything there was to know, he was starting to understand. At 8:05 Wilson brushes his teeth his teeth to have minty, fresh breath just in time for a long, tranquil slumber.
Wilson wakes up more anxious than ever for school. After getting ready he eats a bowl of Wheaties because he actually believes the commercials about staying focused. The test is first period so he decides to go to the library a half hour before to study a little so the information is fresh in his mind. Fear of forgetting everything the second the test hits his desk was causing him to be distracted. Those 30 minutes went by faster than a Monorail in Japan.
“Okay students please take everything except a pencil off your desk. The test has begun. No talking!” Wilson’s palms start to sweat with panic, but he realizes that he understands the math. Wilson is one of the last students to finish but turns in his test with confidence.
The next day in math class Wilson’s hands weren’t the only thing sweating. His face was like a rain cloud just letting the rain pour out. “Wilson, please come up to my desk,” Mr. Woodston says in an ecstatic voice, “I don’t know what happened but it must have been epic because you got an 88% on this test!” Wilson was so excited he asked for a restroom to go call his mom on his cell phone.
Wilson’s mother was so excited for him and let her neighbors know by using her inside voice again. Wilson decides if he can do well on this test maybe he can try harder on others too.