100 pages Ricardo John De Guzman III

Homework was the catch to summer break. In middle school, it was all too common. We had two school-free months to do 100 pages of a math workbook. Back in middle school, I was quite confident in myself, so made a bet with a friend: if I finished the pages within one day, I’d win, and if I didn’t, he’d win. The prize? The loser had to give the winner one crisp American dollar bill. What I didn’t know was that I’d earn much more than a candy bar’s worth of paper.

That night I slept with a cocky grin and dollar-sign eyes. The next morning came and my excitement, which was once a rushing creek, dried to a desert. I was 15 - how could I be excited about math work the first day of vacation? All I wanted was it to be over. Like getting into an icy swimming pool or ripping off a Band-Aid, it had to be done soon and fast, before my excitement turned into a barren wasteland.

When I opened the workbook I gazed upon simple math: adding and subtracting. The grin returned. As I zoomed through the first 30 or so pages, I felt stupendous; a thunderous feeling, like I was the smartest man in the world! I could control the stars and moons, the celestial heavens themselves! Then came long division.

What evil mind would create such a task? It was...