"A Math Memoir- Series" 

Upon my transition to middle school, there wasn't a subject I despised more than math. Back in elementary school, our syllabus covered basic operations like addition, subtraction, multiplication, long division, graph plotting, and areas of shapes, especially circles. These topics weren't particularly challenging for me, but oh boy, did I loathe them!

A Time of Numbers and Dread

In middle school, our curriculum took a sudden leap into set theory and number theory. These subjects were alien to me, turning my math world into a bleak landscape. Math class for me was a time for daydreaming and wallowing in gloom. Our math teacher was a reserved man in his thirties, always attempting to sprinkle some humor into his lessons. He would passionately explain topics and solve problems on the chalkboard right until the class bell rang. But did I pay attention? Not once!

One day, I was jolted from my reverie by a direct question from him. Imagine the shock! There he was, expecting an answer. On my face, you could read the whole definition of cluelessness. He kindly repeated the explanation and question, waiting for my response. After class, in front of everyone, he mentioned that anyone needing extra help could join his private lessons. On returning home, I recounted this episode to my dad, who, well-aware of my math woes, promptly agreed and emphasized I get the important details: where, when, and how much.

A Math Rekindled

The charming thirty-something, Mr. Muneer, reiterated what he taught in school. However, in his private lessons, he gave individualized attention, solved myriad problems, provided us with exclusive booklets, and made sure we completed our homework. Through him, I found a new love: set theory. It felt like a mathematical game, and I cherished watching numbers intertwine and separate. The idea of the conjunction "and" signifying intersection (not a cheat sign from my elementary teacher) and the disjunction "or" indicating union were fascinating foundational mathematical concepts.

By the end of my first year in middle school, I had aced my math exams. Throughout my academic journey, even in university, I consistently topped math, while geography was my Achilles' heel, possibly because of my aversion to its teacher, reminiscent of my disdain for Mr. Ibrahim Amer.

A Ledger's Duty

Mr. Muneer wasn't an angel, but he was leagues better than the elementary school scam artist. He made me genuinely appreciate math. But, he was meticulous, almost to a fault. He maintained a special attendance register, diligently marking our presence or absence. He kept a strict count of the four sessions every month, ensuring no dues remained. If you hadn't paid for the month, not a single new lesson for you! If you missed a class, why should he bear the burden? After all, he had commitments to meet.

Coins and Commitments

By the end of my second year, Mr. Muneer had tied the knot and moved into his newly purchased apartment where, rumor had it, horses could trot freely. Our lessons shifted to his fancy new place in an upscale neighborhood, a change from the old apartment we were accustomed to. And before we could dive into math, he'd whip out his ledger, ensuring if it was time for our monthly dues or if we still had a lesson left.