The Pythagorean Theorem

The Pythagorean Theorom~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She taught me that in any right triangle, the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides, and that it is called the Pythagorean Theorem. Other than in the occasional game of trivia, I have never found the information itself very useful since when I come in contact with a right triangle I simply whip out a tape measure and determine the length of the hypotenuse by measuring. But she did teach me many, many things that have been infinitely useful.
It has been nearly 50 years since I sat in Mrs. Edwina Oldham’s Plane Geometry Class. It was on the second floor of the old Smith County High School building, east side, at the head of the stairway. I had always been slightly “math challenged” until I took Plane Geometry. I was always slightly suspicious of any discipline that mixed letters and numbers. It seemed to me x ought to equal 24 since it was the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet. So, it may have said “Plane Geometry” on the book but there was certainly nothing plain about the class. Mrs. Oldham told us it taught us to think, to reason I believe she said, and for some reason I fell in love with the subject. It all seemed so clear, so logical, so satisfying in the way it was dependable and you could always count on things being just the way you reasoned them to be. Not like algebra where x and y were wishy-washy. My friend Charlie Brown was in the class with me and since Charlie was the resident school “brain,” it was no surprise that he “got it.” He always got stuff, but the surprise was that I got it and made grades nearly as good as his on every test and quiz. It became a game with us, well at least with me. I think he just was being Charlie Brown and doing his usual job of excelling and making the rest of us look bad. At least in this class, however, he was looking over his shoulder a little bit, at least in my imagination.
Mrs. Edwina Key Oldham was an altogether pleasant woman who had a quiet disposition, and a reserved sense of humor, spiced with just a tinge of sarcasm when her scholars rushed past the obvious. She was genuinely a pleasure to be around. By the end of the year, Charlie Brown, along with me and couple of others, had qualified to go to the annual mathematics contest at Tennessee Tech. I couldn’t believe it; I was going to a math contest with Charlie Brown; who would have thunk it?
I was working at the Western Auto Store across the street from the Court House when Gordon Oldham, Mrs. Edwina’s husband, drove their new 1961 blue Oldsmobile to the back of the store, and announce to Clyde White that he wanted fender mirrors put on the new car and that he would like me to do the installing. Clyde was of course quick to respond that he had just what Mr. Gordon needed, but asked why he wanted me to put the on the car. “Because,” he said, “he’s going to be driving this thing to Cookeville, so he might as well start taking care of it now.” What could possible be more daunting than having to drill four holes in the two fenders of your math teacher’s new car. I must have been shaking all over.
Sure enough, Mrs. Oldham announced that we would be driving up on Saturday, and she would expect me to do the driving. She had already cleared it with my parents, who were somewhat discomfited by the notion of me driving anyone else’s new car anywhere, much less out of town.
In addition to her great gift for understanding the mysteries of mathematics, Mrs. Oldham had a flair for the dramatic, and it was she who worked with a group of us to develop a one act play for competition. (As I write this, it occurs to me she also had fairly well developed competitive streak.) She directed and produced a one act play for competition in which several of us “starred,” and eventually went through the competitions to the state tournament at East Tennessee State College in Johnson City. I don’t remember all that much about the play except it was one of those affairs where the only props allowed were two chairs and a table. Again, she allowed me to drive the new Olds to far away Johnson City stuffed to capacity with Mrs. Oldham and me in the front and three other students in the back. I wondered for years if she could have known what placing such trust in an eighteen year old boy meant to his sense of self-worth and his desire to live up to the expectations placed in him. I now am sure she did.
It was a wonderful experience and although I never had occasion to use the Pythagorean Theorem, the things she taught us about thinking, reasoning, logic, responsibility, and the reward of honest effort, have been invaluable to me and I am sure to Charlie Brown, J. L. Watson, Roger McDonald and the other students who sat in the little second floor classroom at the head of the east stairs and on whom she cast her petite but giant shadow.
I pulled out my Year Book, blew the dust off the cover, and looked to see what she wrote by her picture.
“I have enjoyed working with you in class and in the play, and I hope you have a very happy and successful life.” I wonder if she had any idea how much impact she had on making her wish a reality.
In 1972, the Beta Sigma Phi Sorority named Mrs. Edwina Key Oldham First Lady of the Year. I don’t know who the Beta Sigma Phi Sorority is, but they must be some smart women.