At 11 years old, it was clear to me that math was my arch-nemesis, the bane of my existence. Each equation felt like a hurdle, each problem a mountain to climb, and the numbers themselves seemed to conspire against me.
It hadn’t always been this way. Once upon a time, numbers and I were best friends, and I embraced math with confidence and enthusiasm. I vividly remember zipping through arithmetic window cards faster than my classmates, my fingers deftly flipping each one to reveal the correct answer. I never lost a stepping game during math class, relishing the thrill of outpacing my peers with my quick calculations.
But everything changed the day a piece of chalk, a word problem gone wrong, and a few harsh words from one of my grade school math teachers shattered my self-assurance. I had miscalculated a seemingly simple problem, and my teacher’s reprimand was swift and unforgiving. “You should know this by now!” she barked, her tone laced with ridicule and disappointment. The classroom, once a place of joy and learning, transformed into a battleground, and math became the enemy.
The sting of her words lingered long after the chalk dust settled. With each passing day, my confidence in math dwindled, replaced by a growing sense of dread. Every math class became a test of endurance, a struggle to stay afloat in a sea of numbers that no longer made sense. My former prowess felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the fear of making another mistake and facing another round of public humiliation.
As the years went by, I found myself avoiding math at every opportunity. My assignments were completed with trepidation, my answers second-guessed and doubted. The clarity I once had about becoming a Certified Public Accountant or the CEO of our family business seemed to fade like a distant mirage. The vision that once shone brightly in my mind’s eye, guiding my every step, was now shrouded in a fog of uncertainty. My childhood dreams, meticulously crafted and nurtured by my parents’ expectations, felt increasingly out of reach as I stumbled through the labyrinth of numbers, equations, and the never ending quest to find the elusive x.
When I was little, my path appeared straightforward, almost predestined. I had always believed that I would follow in my parents’ footsteps, effortlessly stepping into the roles they had envisioned for me. I could see myself in the boardroom, confidently making decisions, or meticulously auditing financial statements with the precision and expertise of a seasoned CPA.
But as I wrestled with the complexities of math, the once-solid ground beneath my feet began to shift life quicksand. The certainty that had fueled my ambitions was replaced by a growing sense of doubt that ultimately nudged me to forego the path my parents chose for me. After all, how could I aspire to lead a business when I struggled with the very foundation of its operations? How could I envision myself as a financial expert when numbers now seemed like an insurmountable obstacle?
They say God repeats a lesson until we learn it. After avoiding math for nearly 20 years, I found myself facing it once more when I received a scholarship to pursue an MBA at a prestigious university in the United States.
Two subjects caught my eye as I stared at the class schedule for the Fall Term: Accounting and Finance.
It was my first year in the MBA program, and I was still not over the fact that I had willingly pursued a degree that revolved around courses I decided were the bane of my existence. Over a decade ago, I had sworn off anything remotely related to math or business, yet here I was, about to dive headfirst into the very thing I had dreaded my whole life.
My decision to pursue an MBA was complicated but it came at a time when I needed a break from the harrowing experience that was called ‘work.’ A part of me was also driven by the desire to overcome my fear and maybe, just maybe, make a bold comeback into the business world now armed and ready for battle.
Despite my initial trepidation, a part of me quivered with excitement at the prospect of possibly overcoming what seemed insurmountable. I did not exactly come empty-handed, having learned the fundamentals of business from the proverbial school of hard knocks. Through years of practical experience, I had gained a conceptual understanding of demand forecasting, financial statements, and investments. I knew the terms, the processes, and the theories, but when it came down to translating that knowledge into practice, I floundered. Putting pen to paper and making the numbers add up still felt daunting.
Despite this, my real-world experiences have given me a unique perspective. I had seen firsthand how businesses run, how market dynamics shift, and how financial decisions could change a firm’s trajectory. These lessons were invaluable, but they often felt abstract without the concrete skills to back them up. My understanding was like a partially-lit room with a lightbulb glowing from only one, tiny corner while the rest was shrouded in darkness.
Click.
The lights flickered to life, revealing rows of seats arranged like ripples radiating from the podium. I settled into my seat at the back of the class, nervous for my first close encounter with accounting.
Our teacher, Mr. Fields was a small, plump man with mottled blond hair parted right at the middle. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and a big smile. The classroom was only half full, so he invited us to move closer, promising that his subject would be anything but a painful experience.
“Come on, everyone. Accounting doesn’t bite,” he said with a chuckle, his warmth and enthusiasm instantly put everyone at ease.
In Accounting class, we worked through case studies, dug deep into financial statements, learned where we were wrong, corrected it, and moved on. Mr. Fields breathed life into the material, transforming dizzying columns and rows of numbers into intriguing puzzles.
“Who can tell us what the case is about?” This was how Mr. Fields usually began our class, by setting the stage for the accounting whodunnit to unfold. His approach was methodical yet engaging, encouraging us to think critically and collaboratively. Most of all, he always had a way of making even the most complicated processes seem so simple and easy.
Our class dives into the case of a tech giant that attempted to perform some financial sleight of hand with its numbers. We meticulously sift through their books, dissect their financial statements, and identify the subtle manipulations they were trying to pass off as legitimate accounting.
Mr. Fields guides us through the labyrinth of creative accounting, pointing out the red flags and teaching us to recognize the signs of accounting magic. “Look closely at the revenue recognition,” he says, drawing our attention to a suspiciously inflated figure. “Notice how they’ve spread out expenses over a longer period to make their earnings appear more robust than they actually are.”
As he guides through the process, casting away the shadows lurking in the vast reaches of our minds, we unravel the complexities of the case, understanding not just the how, but the why behind the manipulations. We learn to appreciate the importance of transparency and ethical practices in maintaining the integrity of financial reporting. Mr. Fields emphasizes that while numbers can tell a compelling story, they can also be twisted to deceive.
“Think of yourself as a detective,” he often reminds us. “Your job is to uncover the truth hidden behind the figures.”
We work in teams, each group tasked with a different part of the case. My team is responsible for analyzing the cash flow statements. As we pore over the documents, we notice discrepancies between reported profits and actual cash flow. It becomes clear that the company has been inflating its earnings while masking cash shortfalls, a classic sign of aggressive accounting practices.
The more we dig, the more we uncover. It’s an exhilarating experience, transforming our understanding of accounting from a mundane task to an intellectual challenge. I’m starting to see how accounting is a lot like investigative journalism, one of my favorite subjects in undergrad. The classroom buzzes with discussions and debates, each discovery fueling our curiosity and determination to get to the bottom of the case.
Mr. Fields’ enthusiasm is infectious. He moves around the room, engaging with each group, offering insights and encouraging us to think critically. He praises our efforts and challenges our conclusions, pushing us to dig deeper and consider alternative explanations.
As we present our findings, I feel a sense of accomplishment and pride. Not only have we unraveled a Fortune 500 company’s attempt at financial sorcery, but we’ve also developed a deeper understanding of the principles and ethics of accounting and its broader purpose of ensuring fair and responsible business practices.
“This is what accounting is all about,” he says. “It’s not just about a bunch of numbers on a page; it’s about integrity, transparency, and the pursuit of truth.”
A wave of excitement washes over me, my mind blooming like the delicate petals of a lotus. So this is what an epiphany, a eureka moment feels like. Clarity streams in like sunlight, casting away the fog of confusion that had clouded my understanding. It’s as if a puzzle piece has clicked into place, revealing a bigger, coherent picture that had previously eluded me.
I begin to understand not just how to make sense of the figures but to see the underlying principles holding everything together, making everything click. The scattered mess of numbers and mathematical concepts that once seemed blurry now begins to focus into a clear, logical pattern. My heart races with the thrill of discovery. A sense of freedom and empowerment washes over me.
By casting numbers in a new light, Mr. Fields changes my perspective–not just in math but in how I approach life, in a general sense. I no longer see numbers as abstract symbols or indecipherable codes used by secret societies. I hold them in my hand as keys to understanding the world around me and solving real world problems.
I begin to see patterns, relationships, and connections that I had never noticed before. Math becomes less about rote memorization and more about exploration, discovery, and making things make sense.
As my relationship with math changes, I also begin approaching challenges differently as I take time to pause and break down what is daunting into smaller, more manageable parts. I breathe. My mind relaxes. I sit more comfortably with failure, sometimes even playing with it. Mistakes do not hold us back. They propel us forward, provided we learn from them. More importantly, they are not a final verdict on our abilities.
“Many roads can lead to the same answer,” Mr. Fields pointed out after my classmates and I shared our different ways of pinning down why a unicorn startup ultimately came crashing down like an asteroid. “There is no single way to get from point A to Z. What matters is understanding the journey and the reason, the drive behind every step that you take.”
One of the many words Tagalog and Sanskrit have in common is the word ‘guru’ or ‘guro’. While the term is commonly used to refer to a teacher, it is actually composed of two words: ‘Gu’, which means ‘darkness’ or ‘ignorance’, and ‘ru’, which means ‘dispeller’. In its truest sense, ‘guru’ means ‘someone who dispels darkness or ignorance’. A teacher is therefore someone who illuminates the mind, guiding students out of the shadows of confusion and into the light of understanding and knowledge.
A true guru goes beyond imparting information; they inspire curiosity, critical thinking, and a thirst for lifelong learning. They recognize the potential buried deep within each student and, like a sculptor, helps rough out the excess marble to uncover unique talents and abilities. When teachers foster an environment of respect, encouragement, and support, they give students permission to ask questions, challenge assumptions, explore new ideas, and learn. They do not only teach. They transform lives, creating a ripple effect extending far beyond the four walls of the classroom.
Night descended early on our last day of class. At three in the afternoon, darkness cloaked the winter sky, casting long shadows that danced eerily from the orange glow of the lamps that lit the pathways in the campus. The biting cold of a bitter Midwest winter seeped into the windows while the radiators hummed with effort in a steady attempt to keep the chill at bay.
The classroom buzzed with an electric mix of anticipation and nostalgia. We gathered our notebooks and laptops, bracing for the final moments of accounting class. Mr. Fields stood in front, his jovial demeanor tinged with a hint of melancholy. The classroom overflowed with a sense of accomplishment and the bittersweet realization that our journey together was about to come to an end.
“You’ve all come a long way,” Mr. Fields said during his closing lecture, his voice steady and warm. “Take what you’ve learned here far beyond this classroom. Whether you are balancing accounts or balancing life’s challenges, never forget that there are many paths to the same destination.”
Mr. Fields handed out our final assignments. As I unfolded mine, a handwritten note was scribbled next to my perfect score: “Keep questioning, keep exploring, and never stop seeking the truth. Your path is uniquely yours and you have what it takes to keep moving forward.”
The heavy doors of the business school’s main entrance shut behind me as I stepped into a cold, starless winter night. I pulled my jacket close and took a step forward.
It was dark but there were lights guiding me to where I needed to be.
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Author’s email: [email protected]
