The Math Tutor

With untied shoelace and unshaven face, he walks in with a shy hello.

A skittish mind brimming with nomadic thoughts, he is quite the unlikely hero.

But give him a problem of mathematical origins and excitement fills his eyes.

He’ll tell you how to deal with such a beast in great detail and the many wicked ways it lies.

This seasoned warrior has fought many blood-painted battles, perhaps too many to last a life time.

His hands, chalk-smeared and ink-stained, are callused from the exams’ mind-twisting grime.

His wit is armed with rigor and experience and his nerves, sharpened into steel.

He has seen many students rise and fall and knows every lecturer’s Achilles Heel.

I sometimes see him sauntering around the campus like a travelling troubadour,

Or loitering around the Honours Maths Space, exchanging banter, acerbic and jocular.

Whether it be flitting from classroom to classroom, or marking assignments until the night kisses the early dawn,

He is fuelled by a strange concoction of coffee, Red Bull, deadlines and passion, going on his way without a single yawn.

And in those days when he wanders down the Wilderness of Math

And he gazes into space with a dreamy, far-off stare,

I wonder what magic, what mystery, what puzzles, riddles and genius he dreams of

and I hope to one day, follow him there.