It’s 2017. That’s 210 years since England abolished the slave trade, and 152 years since the abolition of slavery in the United States—I did the math. Other people are also doing mathematical problems involving slavery, as evidenced on Twitter this week when the following assignment surfaced from Rochester Grammar School in Kent asking students to calculate the best business deal they could get spending £100 on slaves.

The idea that trading in humans could be seen as a reasonable school assignment is part of a wider problem. Recently, I took MA students to Speke Hall outside of Liverpool, where they were told that the money to pay for the hall came from “farming” in the West Indies—despite the fact that one of the coats of arms in the Oak Parlor of the house has three Black people’s heads on it. This happened less than ten miles from the International Slavery Museum, where they have a painting of a slave ship named the “Watt”—which also happened to be the name of one of the Speke Hall families.

As a former teacher of mathematics (yes, this was how I started my adult working life), I am sympathetic to the notion that children should be given “real” mathematics problems to solve. I spent enough time as a child figuring out how old someone was if they were a quarter of their grandmother’s age now and twenty years from now they would be half their mother’s age (why couldn’t you just ask them how old they were?) to grow up despising mathematics. In fact, this is why I got the job teaching third and fifth graders the subject; the experimental school valued philosophical understanding of concepts and real-world problems. I agree, too, that an integrated curriculum is one of the best ways to accomplish this kind of deep understanding of mathematical concepts. So I’d like to offer Rochester Grammar School some alternatives to their assignment. My suggestions incorporate not only mathematical and historical concepts, but integrate the literature curriculum as well.

Students might, for example, look at Tanya Landman’s *Passing for White* (Barrington Stoke 2017). This story is a fictionalized account of married slaves, the wife being light-skinned enough to “pass” for white. She dressed up as a white slave-owner who “owned” her husband in order to escape north to freedom. Despite Rosa’s light skin, they could not have made the journey without money. Landman writes,

Over the years Benjamin had been allowed to take on extra carpentry work and he got to keep a little of the money people paid for that. As for me, well, there were times that Mr Cornwell’s conscience bothered him some. He’d slip me a few coins, tell me to get myself ‘something pretty’. But I had no need of ribbons or frills. I put every last cent in a jar . . . It was against the law to sell anything to a slave without his master’s permission, but there were places that turned a blind eye to that. They’d charge twice the price for goods that were half the quality, but they’d do it” (25).

There are multiple opportunities for mathematical story problems in this passage alone—not to mention the potential for powerful discussions about the difference between the law and justice.

If Rochester Grammar School preferred a “classic” literary text, they could look at Louisa May Alcott’s *Little Women*, a novel set during the American Civil War that does not in fact mention slavery at all. Teachers might read my article, “Anything to Suit Customers: Antislavery and *Little Women*” in *Children’s Literature Association Quarterly* 26.1, to get some background into why slavery disappeared in the novel, and then lead a discussion about the economics of publishing in an ideologically-divided nation (a not untimely lesson to have in this era). The absence of slavery in the novel could then be compared with the 1994 film version, in which Meg’s anti-slavery wardrobe is compared to that of her rich friends who are not bothered by such scruples as social justice.

Alternatively, they could do what I often did as a teacher, and ask the students to come up with their own mathematics problems. They might use as a model the book produced by students from Plant Hill Arts College in Manchester, *“To be free is very sweet”: The Life of Mary Prince* (Ahmed Iqbal Ullah Education Trust, 2010). The students, who wrote and illustrated the text, were keenly aware of the mathematics of slavery, in which people could be bought and sold to enrich plantation owners, and families could be torn in half—or, in Mary Prince’s case, in quarters. And unlike the Rochester Grammar School assignment, the students at Plant Hill Arts College recognized that the mathematical facts had emotional and physical consequences for real people.

Children need to be taught about slavery, and they need to understand it in a deep, rather than surface-level, way if they are ever to grapple with the continuing racial inequalities that exist in former slave-owning nations. But treating slavery as a mathematical problem replicates the arguments made by slave-owners in the West Indies and the southern states of the US, who claimed—rightly, as it happens—that the economies of these regions would tank if slavery was abolished. But you would not teach children mathematics by having them calculate how to purchase drugs, or illegal guns, or children for trafficking, at an economical price. We have to see slavery for what it is: robbery. And one of the best ways to open children up to the true mathematics of slavery is through reading. As Frederick Douglass pointed out in his *Narrative*, “The more I read, the more I was led to abhor and detest my enslavers. I could regard them in no other light than a band of successful robbers, who had left their homes, and gone to Africa, and stolen us from our homes, and in a strange land reduced us to slavery.” The mathematics of slavery has never been more clearly expressed.