Fraction Pie I hated math, didn’t mind fractions, loved pizza, so naturally, when Mrs. T slapped those magnetized slices of pizza to the whiteboard and called them fractions, I lost it. The slices were two-dimensional, but I fantasized in 3D: thin crust that wasn’t too thin, orange-red sauce that was neither too sweet nor too tart, just the right amount of bubbly, browned mozzarella to cover all that tomatoey goodness. Math fell before lunch, a simultaneous delight and torture. On the board, Mrs. T mixed and matched the pepperoni slices with the plain, something I’d never dared to do in real life. I was a strictly plain girl, no pepperoni. 2 slices of plain side by side and 2 slices of pepperoni side by side represented ½ plain, ½ pepperoni. 3 plain, a magnificent cheesy trio, and only 1 pepperoni represented ¾ plain, ¼ pepperoni. Now fast forward to the lunch line, my Styrofoam tray held expectantly in hand. Plain or pepperoni? the lunch lady asked with a forced smile. Both! I s
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