Math lessons from a DIY journalist | Home With Tess

Journalists are notoriously bad at math, and I am certainly no exception.

I’ll admit that in every math class beyond basic algebra, I found myself questioning when in the world I’d ever use what I’d learned. Geometric proofs? Not a chance. Long division? That’s what calculators are for. And the Pythagorean theorem? Surely never in my life.

But to my surprise — and also to my chagrin — building a patio has required much more math than I’ve ever used for another project. In fact, aside from the manual labor, I’ve found math to be half the battle when it comes to our patio project. (Disclaimer: “Half” the battle may not be entirely accurate — remember, math really isn’t my thing.)

In my last column, I wrote about my husband and I building a paver patio in our backyard, tackling it on our own and learning as we go.

Since we started working on the patio a couple of weeks ago, he’s taken on much of the manual labor while I’ve been crunching numbers. I’ve been busy balancing and revising budgets, calculating area and volume, and measuring and laying out slopes. And what do you know — I even had to use that gosh darn Pythagorean theorem to determine whether I had set my guide strings at the perfect 90-degree angle.

While I’m happy to be putting my barely adequate math skills to the test, it’s also resulted in quite a bit of anxiety. I know that one miscalculation could result in wonky pavers, wasted money or, in the absolute worst-case scenario, even damage to the house.

Luckily, we haven’t yet run into any detrimental calculations, though those likely won’t be revealed until the very end of our project. (We are just finishing up laying our gravel layer before we lay the sand and, finally, our pavers.)That doesn’t mean numeric mistakes haven’t been made, though.

When I first set out to do this project, I had in my mind that we could build the patio for around $500. This was based on nothing but some quick calculations in my head and the fact that I thought base materials couldn’t possibly cost more than a couple hundred dollars.

I liken myself to Lucille Bluth from “Arrested Development” in that we both make woefully ignorant cost estimates completely ungrounded in reality. (As she says in her iconic one-liner: “It’s one banana, Michael. What could it cost? $10?”)

Still, I would’ve been better off with her outlandish highballing instead of my laughable underestimation. Ultimately, we wound up paying nearly $500 for the base materials alone, including delivery. Pavers also wound up costing more than I had anticipated, and I had to purchase additional materials that I hadn’t accounted for in my estimate. I’ll be happy to reveal the final cost and breakdown of the project once it’s complete, but for now, let’s just say we will be spending at least double my initial estimate.

So, as it turns out, I’m still learning math lessons far beyond my school years: Calculate the cost of all your materials before giving your husband a quote (sorry, hubby). Delivery costs add up. And calculations are most accurate when done at least twice, with reliable numbers, and not in your head.

I also have a bonus lesson for any students who happen to be reading this: Just know if there’s even a chance of you wanting to build a patio in the future, being attentive in math class does pay off.

Email your questions to Theresa “Tess” Bennett at homewithtess@gmail.com.

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This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Math lessons from a do-it-yourself journalist