Math class as you know, makes me feel as if I am caught in a fiery explosion or better yet, like a robber is coming in and stealing my imagination, my artistic skills and creative mind. Quick and sly he grabs my brain and heart and turns me into a heartless, ignorant and boring person. I am being deprived of my imaginary paint-brush and my Dixon number 2 pencil and he gives me in return little dull numbers and a small symbol that looks like an X. He tells me to “multiply” or now that I’m in Middle School, solve for x. I think what the hell is that for I am a writer and in my dictionary there is no such thing as “multiply.” The boring X lesson goes on as I see him running away with my brain and heart. I chase after him when the math lesson ends. I ask him to please replace these numbers with the words from my dictionary. Finally I forcefully grab him in the hallway and he places my brain back in its little nest of painted flesh. The melted red roses I was painting come back to life and the poem I was writing falls back word by word with a dot dot dot at the end where I left off. My pupils come back and make my eyes look busy and full of wonder again, not just the vacant bland blue eyes I have when I look at an equation. Finally. I am now far away in my world, a world of which you will never know. Nowadays I see his ghostly-self roaming around the hallways looking to possess someone else now that I have taught him a lesson. Why must he do this? If he did it to everyone who knows what the world would be like. I could only imagine that everyone would be gray with no eyes, just little black dots. They would have noses but couldn’t smell and mouths that wouldn’t open. They would have ears that couldn’t hear and small hearts that only had room for calculations. This is what the Math robber could ultimately do to us. And it will be my job to stop it.