Maths has never been my strong point. Numbers don’t come easily to me – I just can’t see numerical patterns, however hard people try to convince me of their existence. I see patterns in lots of other ways – in fact my world is full of them, but as far as I was concerned as a child, three was half of eight, because if you take the number 8 and draw a line vertically through it, you get a 3, with its mirror image. I was therefore able to grasp symmetry and was quite interested in geometry as it involved a lot of shading in, in different colours, which always made me happy.
Maths lessons involved a lot of shouting at primary level, as far as I can remember – which I can’t, very clearly. In fact, I have absolutely no memory of maths classes at secondary school at all whereas everything else from that era comes to mind with sharp photographic recall. I have evidence of sitting a maths exam because I have the grade to prove that I turned up and wrote my name on the paper, but my hard drive has erased any picture of a classroom, a teacher or classmates who may have shared my discomfort.
In my head, I have always seen numbers represented as colours. The colours never change but they replicate themselves once I get past counting twenty. For instance, my number two is pale, almost white with grey edges (like a swan) and my number eight is dark red. Twenty eight, therefore, is a mixture of the two colours. The months of the year (or the notion of them) are also colour coordinated – March is yellow, like the daffodils, I guess, and August being the eight month, is dark red. It gets more complicated if I think of, say, the 7th August which becomes blended to orange because, of course, my number 7 is yellow. Days of the week are in colour, too, starting with Sunday which is pink, Monday sky blue and Wednesday, dark green.
I had no idea until a few years ago, probably at the time I began working in school, that this condition is unusual. I hesitate to use the word normal: it’s normal for me and thousands of others whose experiences with colours, or sounds, or tastes are similar. Our sensory wiring is skewed, but I’m not bothered – David Hockney has it so I’m in esteemed company. The condition is called synaesthesia, and many people have it, to a greater or lesser degree.
The UK Synaesthesia Association explains: ‘Synaesthesia is a truly fascinating condition. In its simplest form it is best described as a “union of the senses” whereby two or more of the five senses that are normally experienced separately are involuntarily and automatically joined together. Some synaesthetes experience colour when they hear sounds or read words. Others experience tastes, smells, shapes or touches in almost any combination. These sensations are automatic and cannot be turned on or off. Synaesthesia isn’t a disease or illness and is not at all harmful. In fact, the vast majority of synaesthetes couldn’t imagine life without it.’
And I can’t imagine life without it. Perhaps the colours I see are different in tone or intensity to the ones you see. Who knows? But it has made me more aware, I think, that we all perceive things slightly differently. This was reinforced recently while helping a young lad, diagnosed with dyslexia, with his reading. He told me that when faced with a page of text, all he sees initially are wiggly pathways between the words – not straight lines going from left to right to make sentences and paragraphs. I keep and refer to often, something my then eleven-year-old son’s maths teacher said to him, when he was failing to understand a new concept being introducing to the class. He told my son that it wasn’t his fault – it was his, for not explaining in a way that my son could understand. If I’d had a teacher like that when I was eleven, I’d probably remember him and who knows what alternative pathway my life may have taken.
Never wish too hard for the road not taken…in all likelihood you considered the one you are on carefully before embarking on it, and just as surely yours was the right choice. As far as the maths go, in my opinion those who struggle with concepts often make the best teachers. Those for whom the subject was easy have little sympathy for those who struggle and have very few learning strategies that they trust as they have never really needed them.
Well, I’m not sure that I did, to be honest – I think it chose me, but I have no regrets. 🙂 I’ve even managed to support some struggling year 7’s (age 11)…in a maths class…
For the longest time, I envied my best friend who was a Math prodigy. She was numbers, I was words. We were in our 40s, with our children playing together during a visit she made to Colorado. She said she had always envied my connection to words. It’s strange how we so often wish for what we don’t have, and miss the chance to make the most of what we do have.
Nicely done.
Thank you! Yes,like you, I’ve never had any trouble with words and as Maurice points out, I think my struggling with maths has made me more aware of the difficulties different people have grasping basic concepts.
I always enjoy what you write. Like you I found a lot of maths baffling on the basis of why did you want to know how many men it took to dig a hole. I once worked with a brilliant maths teacher who did it all practically – darts, measuring up to fit a kitchen, counting money, bits of orange etc. Her, of course, bottom set, became very good at maths. Surprise, surprise. recently heard brilliant programme on the use of the abacus in the Far East. Four year olds were faster than the maths graduate here. Worrying.
I always see 9 as N and say that in my mind. Not sure what that says about me.
Thanks for commenting. Interesting you mentioned darts. I remember helping a lad a few years ago who did mental arithmetic in his head if it was dartboard related but couldn’t apply his skills in the classroom. Frustrating for him and me!
For me, Monday is light green, Tuesday is red, Wednesday is Orange, Thursday is white, Friday is deep blue, Saturday is brown, Sunday is black. January is Red, February is pale yellow, March deep blue, April light grey, May Blue, June red, July orange, August white, September light grey, October, dark grey, November, brown, December, black. Interestingly my numbers follow almost exactly the same sequence as the months – 1 is black, 2 is red, 3 is light green, 4 is red, 5 is yellow, 6 is dark blue, 7 in orange, 8 is white, 9 is dark blue, 10 is grey, 11 is brown, 12 is black. After that they take the colour of the second number, so 22 is red.
But why these particular colours I have always asked myself? And why do others see completely different colours? I’ve always logically suspected they were the colours of the days, months and numbers drawn out and coloured in by my parents or teachers to help me learn them when I was small. But maybe there is another, more interesting explanation?!
Thanks for stopping by – so exciting to meet a fellow synaesthete! My Saturday is also a murky browny grey colour. I too have thought that the logical reason for my particular colours may have been early intervention from a teacher, parent or learning book but who in their right mind would colour Saturday dull?
I like to think there is a more interesting explanation especially as another noteable synaesthete is the artist Kandinsky who HEARD colours. Other people can conjure up stong tastes if presented with certain words, so it has to be a sensory issue. I wonder if you experience similar with letters?
Fascinating. I had never heard of synaesthesia. I don’t have that, but I do see many things in terms of spacial relationship. The months of the year form an irregular elliptical shape. The year goes anti-clockwise with Christmas at the bottom, April on the middle of the way up the right-hand side and August all across the top. September through December are down the left hand side – note Christmas is separate from December. I think these items relate to happy times and less happy ones. But depending on the time of the year I am actually occupying space that corresponds to the place the month is on my imaginary calendar. So its not just an image, but a location in time. The week has a pattern two but it is more linear with the weekends at right angles to the week days. I travel down the week from monday, then turn into the weekend Friday night, the next week is another right turn after Sunday. I wonder if there is a name for this. My family has a name for it, but that’s just not nice.
I also struggled with math – when two plus two equals four I wanted to know why? No amount of demonstrations were satisfactory. But I loved geometry. Isn’t the mind wonderful!
This is really interesting, thank you so much for sharing your experiences. My mother sees her calendar like a clock face with the months arranged clockwise, although not in colours like me. It is thought that synaesthesia runs in families and this is the nearest I can get to it with any of my immediate relations.
I too have an issue with right angles: My number line is linear, in glorious technicolour, till I get to 20, then it veers off on a leftwards right angle and carries on at a slight uphill gradient till 120 whereupon it veers off leftwards again, and so on. The colours stick to the sequence I explained above, and if I think really hard about it, the void surrounding my number line is the colour of strong tea – kind of murky brown. A history teaching colleague also imagines her number-date line with right angles.
You are so right – the mind is wonderful – and extremely baffling!
Jenny, I found your link to this post from a comment you made on Everything Magical! I remembered that I never did get back to you about synaesthesia and my daugther when I first found your blog (again, three cheers for Spamgate, yay!). I actually got it wrong when I told you she sees things in colours, as when we talked about it again the other day she reminded me that she actually ‘tastes’ words. For instance, the name ‘mum’ always makes her taste treacle pudding! Not sure if that is good or bad…. 🙂
Sensory issues are a big part of Asperger’s and my daughter will be undergoing an assessment soon. So this is a subject close to my heart and
I found this post fascinating. My daugther could never grasp the concept of maths and although has never been diagnosed it is strongly suspected that she has dyscalculia. I remember one of her maths teachers in high school telling me at a parent’s evening: “It’s a shame she isn’t as good as her brother at maths!” That was soooo helpful. If only we all had good maths teachers like your then young son did!
Your students are very lucky to have you Jenny 🙂
I’m not sure they’d think that Sherri! I’m fascinated and excited that your daughter tastes words – I’d heard of this via articles and Channel 4 but never known anyone who experiences this. Does it bother her, I wonder?
The answer to the treacle pudding has to be that a) It is British and b) it is a warming comfort food … just like her Mum!
It’s funny because I never really thought of it as having a name or of being a sensory issue as it is just one of my daughter’s many little quirks that make her so unique! I am learning every day more and more about Asperger’s and all that goes with it, and now, thanks to you, all about synaesthesia!
It doesn’t bother her at all, I think she coudn’t imagine not having it! I will have to find out more and get back to you on it and obviously read up on it. I had no idea there were articles about it and that there had been something on Channel 4! Where have I been???
As for the treacle pudding, that is lovely of you to say Jenny, but I think there are days when she doesn’t think I’m so warm and comforting, especially when I have to remind her for the millionth time to clean up her rubbish heap (sorry, I meant room) lol 🙂 x
So she doesn’t have the obsessive tidiness streak, then?! The more you read, the more fascinating it gets and things will start to drop into place and seem quite ‘normal’ – whatever that means! The C4 prog was probably two-three years ago and to be honest I now only have a vague memory of its content other than it introduced me to the knowledge that synaesthesia affects all the senses. Isn’t the brain wonderful?
Fascinating!!!!! Yes! I feel so much like you with synaesthesia! So glad you read my blog and I would love to follow yours! David Hockney, huh? Well we are in good company. Thanks for your wonderful reply!
Hi Hollis – it’s great to meet someone else with the condition – I think we are privileged! I wonder if we experience our colours to the same tone or intensity – it’s such a fascinating subject. You see Tuesday as maroon, well, Tristram (above) sees it as red, and he and I share a brown Saturday. It would be so weird if there was a consistency in the colours synaesthetes see in things/days/months/numbers/places.
Thanks for the follow – I’ve just followed you, too. Love your art work, especially the ring around the little house.
[…] that Aspie Daughter must have some form of it. My interest grew even more when I read Jenny’s post about this very […]
Wow Jenny, this is fascinating! I’m so happy Sherri posted a link since I think this was written before we connected. I always knew you were extra special!
Oh Jill that is a sweet thing to say, but I’m not really – just a bit odd! The fact that Sherri’s daughter also has a similar thing to me was one of the reasons Sherri and I got together in the first place. I’m fascinated by Claire’s particular strain of synaesthesia and would love to have the chance to chat to her about it. I haven’t found anyone with the condition during my time working at the school other than one lad who saw his numbers whirling at him in space but I’m not sure that’s the same thing! Some children won’t even register that it is unusual – I certainly didn’t for years although there has never been a time when I remember not having the numbers, days and months in wonderful technicolour!
I just reread this! I had to because at the gym today, I went up to my friend, Dan, the 24 year old drummer, who had dubbed me the “Scuba Planker”, who is also a synaesthete. And I said “Quick!!!! What color is today!?” He said thoughtfully “Tan.” I said “Yes, me too… and that’s not good!” I had to relay this to you since I know so few synaesthetes.
Wow! Fascinating post. Thank you for sharing this Jenny. It has opened my eyes. I am very impressed with what you said of your son’s teacher. What a difference an action like that can make to the life of another!
Norah, you’re welcome. Thanks for reading. That maths teacher later became Son’s Head of Year. He was always very kind, although actually quite strict. It was an anomalous blend that somehow seemed to work😊
How lovely. I guess children (people) like to know their boundaries and kindness can exist within those if properly applied and maintained.