Write 'to teach', and read it as 'to sit at the same level.' ~A single stick erased the distance between a grandfather and his grandchild.~

What should I do when spending time with my grandchild?

Teach them schoolwork.
Read books.
Go outside to play.
Play games.

None of these are bad.

However, when an adult faces a child, they sometimes end up divided into the 'teacher' and the 'learner' before they even realize it.

The grandfather knows the answer.
The grandchild does not know the answer.

The stronger that relationship becomes, the more the conversation gradually turns into a one-way street, even though they are together.

While I was thinking about such things, I encountered a game where you move a single stick to correct a wrong equation.

It is what is known as a matchstick puzzle.

At first glance, it is a simple brain teaser.

You move only one stick from among those that make up the numbers or symbols.
Then, you change the incorrect equation into a correct one.

However, when you actually try it, it is quite profound.

Just having the calculation be correct does not make it the right answer.

You can only move one stick.
The stick you remove must be used somewhere else.
The shape of the numbers must also follow a set typeface.

In other words,

not only 'is the answer correct'

but also

'are all the conditions met'

must be considered.

Looking at a certain equation, I came up with a different answer.

The calculation is correct.
However, it does not work under the condition of moving only one stick.

That was when I first realized it.

Coming up with the right answer and arriving at the answer through the correct process are not the same thing.

This applies to both work and life.

Even if only the result is correct, if the conditions or the process to reach it are wrong, it cannot be said to be truly correct.

However, the true value of this game was not just in that.

My grandfather doesn't know the answer right away either.

The grandchild also comes up with their own ideas.

Sometimes my grandfather makes a mistake.
Sometimes the grandchild notices it first.

Then, in that moment, the teacher-student relationship disappears.

The two of them become challengers facing the same problem.

"Isn't that not it?"

"What happens if you move this one?"

"The calculation is correct, but you can't do it with just one stick."

Such conversations arise naturally.

I thought that this is exactly what communication between a grandfather and grandchild is.

It is not about an adult descending to a child's level.
Nor is it about pulling a child up to an adult's level.

It is about the two of them sitting side by side in front of the same problem.

There, there is no age gap, no difference in knowledge, and no difference in status.

What exists is,

It is simply a time of 'thinking together.'

Furthermore, this game can also lead to independent research.

For example, investigate what a single number changes into by manipulating one stick.

What does it become if you take one away?What does it become if you move one?What does it become if you add one?

Some numbers turn into two different numbers when one stick is removed.
Moving one stick turns it into two other numbers.
Adding one stick turns it into yet another number.

Investigate this for numbers 0 through 9 and group them accordingly.

Then, a game that was just about solving problems turns into research.

Which number is the easiest to transform?Which numbers are the hardest to change?Are there any that change from even to odd?What kind of rules exist for these changes?

One question begins to give birth to the next.

What is cultivated here is not just calculation speed.

The power of observation.The power to organize conditions.The power to classify.The power to form hypotheses.The power to test and verify.The power to explain one's own thinking.

And above all,

'Even if I make a mistake, I can just think about it again'

is the power to believe that.

Many children who become bad at math fear making mistakes.

I can't get the right answer.I'm too slow.It's embarrassing.

The moment they feel that way, they stop thinking altogether.

However, if a grandfather is also lost in the problem, a mistake is no longer a failure.

'I got that one wrong, too.'

It is simply a time of 'thinking together.'

"Well then, let's think about it once more."

In a relationship where one can say that, a mistake becomes a part of the discovery process.

A small game of just moving a single stick.

Yet, that one stick does more than just change numbers.

It changes the positions of grandfather and grandchild.
It turns teaching time into thinking time.
It turns play into research.
It turns mistakes into the next step forward.

Perhaps communication is not about talking a lot.

It is about looking at the same thing, feeling the same level of uncertainty, and sharing the same joy.

The tools for that do not need to be anything grand.

A single stick and a single question.

With just that, a grandfather and grandchild can sit at the same level.