WHY WE THINK WE ARE BAD AT MATHS
ALM 92, August 2026
ESSAYS
Failure is not the end; it is merely the beginning of success
So many of us think that we are bad at maths. Many genuinely believe it. Some carry that belief for life and many unknowingly pass that fear onto their children.
As a society, we have created a simple classification of being either ‘good’ or ‘bad’ at maths, yet this way of thinking fails to recognise the large space that exists between the two. It ignores the journey, the experiences, the misunderstandings and the emotional responses that shape how people come to view themselves mathematically.
If we look closely, our mathematical journey begins long before formal schooling. Even as infants, around three to six months of age, we begin recognising patterns and changes in the world around us. A child notices when a parent is present or absent, when a toy is missing or when something new has appeared. The acts of holding, crawling, balancing and eventually walking all involve forms of mathematical thinking - not explicit arithmetic, but the foundational cognitive processes required for survival, movement, judgement and problem-solving.
All of this happens automatically and mostly unconsciously, yet the brain is constantly storing and organising this information for future use.
This eventually develops into the early counting system, where ideas and objects are given formal labels: numbers, shapes, colours, bigger, smaller, more, less. These become the foundations upon which more complex mathematical concepts are built.
In theory, these experiences, alongside formal education, should lead all of us towards a reasonable understanding of mathematics. Yet for many people, this is not what happens. Somewhere along the journey, individuals arrive at the conclusion that they are ‘not good at maths.’
What is interesting is that many reach this belief without fully understanding why.
Why do they think they are bad at maths?
Why do they feel they are bad at maths?
Why do they actively avoid situations that involve mathematics?
The answer often has very little to do with their actual cognitive ability and far more to do with their experiences of mathematics throughout education.
Perhaps it was a concept they did not understand at the time. Perhaps it was an explanation that did not match the way they think. Perhaps it was a confusingly worded question, a rushed lesson, embarrassment in front of others or a teacher who themselves lacked confidence or depth in mathematics.
Negative emotions are remembered more strongly than positive ones and mathematics seems particularly vulnerable to this effect
Over time, these experiences accumulate. The subject slowly transforms from a puzzle to solve into something to fear.
Yet perhaps the biggest issue is not the mistakes themselves, but our misunderstanding of what mistakes actually represent.
Too many children and adults are taught to see mistakes as evidence of failure, when in reality they are often evidence of learning. Mistakes are not signs that someone is incapable; they are signs that the brain is attempting to understand something new. A mistake simply means that another method, another explanation or another perspective is required.
In many ways, mistakes are not the end of learning but the very beginning of it.
This idea extends far beyond mathematics. Growth in any subject, skill or area of life requires adjustment, failure and persistence.
No one develops mastery without first experiencing difficulty
So how do we convince people that they are not ‘bad’ at maths?
We allow them to make mistakes without fear.
We allow them to struggle without shame.
We allow them to enjoy the process of learning rather than obsess only over the outcome.
More importantly, we ensure that the people guiding them — teachers, parents, schools and society itself — understands this approach as well.
Because we have already lost too many people to the belief of - “I am bad at maths,” - and we cannot afford to lose any more.
Zeshan Aslam writes at the intersection of morality, consciousness and the tensions of modern life. His work explores how individuals think, doubt and attempt to live with clarity in a world that often resists it. He is the author of the book Contemplations: Reflections for an Uneasy Age, a collection of essays that brings together philosophy and personal reflection. With a background in education and psychology, his writing is shaped by a deep interest in the structure of thought itself — how beliefs are formed, how they fracture and how they can be rebuilt. He draws on influences from classical philosophy, contemporary neuroscience and cognitive psychology, not as abstractions, but as tools for understanding lived experience. His aim is not to provide definitive answers, but to sharpen perception — to help readers see more clearly, think more precisely and question what is too easily accepted.
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