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How JUMP Math Founder John Mighton Found Purpose in Failure
By Sally Szuster
Whenever John Mighton Vic 7T8 discovers he’s not good at something— nearly flunking math, for instance— he doesn’t retreat. He doubles down. Then he emerges, improbably, as a master. As a recipient of a Victoria College Distinguished Alumni Award, failure isn’t a stop sign— it’s a springboard.
As a young undergraduate at Victoria University in the University of Toronto, Mighton didn’t seem destined for national accolades. A self-described procrastinator, he spent his early years at Vic “having a good time.” His math grades were shaky, and though drawn to poetry and playwriting, he doubted his talent.
His creative writing course earned him the lowest mark of his early academic career.
“I loved the professor, but I think the mark accurately reflected my ability at the time,” he said with a characteristic self-effacing laugh.
Still, that professor’s lectures— “symphonies,” Mighton called them—inspired him.
“I’d never had such rigorous teaching before my time at Vic.”
Mighton committed to learning how to write, spending long hours reading Sylvia Plath.
“I followed her prescription for training yourself,” he said.
Mighton didn’t become a serious student until third year, thanks in part to his friend Dave Beck. Beck’s passion for philosophy challenged Mighton’s laid-back approach and introduced him to deeper ways of thinking. Raised in a practical household—his parents were a doctor and a nurse—Mighton was steeped in logic and pragmatism. But through his friendship with Beck, he discovered a love for philosophical thought and he later earned a master's degree in philosophy.
When Beck tragically died of cancer, Mighton formed a close bond with Beck’s roommate, Alan Taylor. They grieved together and continued the conversations that had first brought them together, about art, ideas, and meaning. Taylor would go on to direct The Sopranos, Game of Thrones, Mad Men, Sex and the City and major films, and receive an honorary degree from the University of Toronto in 2025. Mighton, undeterred by early doubts, pursued playwriting. The two remain close friends.
Mighton’s play Possible Worlds became a landmark work, blending science and emotion. He won the Governor General’s Literary Award for Drama, as well as the Chalmers Canadian Play Award and the Dora Mavor Moore Award. The Globe and Mail called Mighton “One of Canadian theatre's most original voices” and called his play The Little Years “a meditation on lost potential,” a consistent theme in Mighton’s life work.
Other plays—Scientific Americans, A Short History of Night and Half Life —reflected a mind drawn to patterns, always searching for the poetic within the logical. The Times of London said “a new play by John Mighton is an event… His work has a kind of precision where every nuance is weighted in the balance…”
At the height of his playwriting success, another part of his mind kept drawing Mighton toward mathematics. At 32, Mighton returned to school at U of T to earn a PhD in math. For him, this wasn’t a pivot—it was a natural extension of his creative life.
“Math and creative writing are similar,” he explained. “You’re always looking for analogies and connections.”
When Mighton began tutoring kids in math informally, he noticed a troubling pattern. Students weren’t struggling with math because they weren’t smart. They struggled because they lacked confidence and proper support. That led him to start JUMP Math (Junior Undiscovered Math Prodigies) as a grassroots tutoring initiative. In the early days, he recruited fellow artists—actors, directors, playwrights—as volunteer tutors.
What began as a modest service soon grew into an internationally respected non-profit. JUMP Math aims to remove psychological barriers to learning and teach math with joy, structure and compassion. The program, grounded in cognitive science, now is used in classrooms across Canada and beyond, reaching more than 2.8 million students since its inception in 2002. A study by SickKids Hospital and the University of Toronto found that JUMP students made significantly more progress in problem solving compared to those using another widely used program.
Mighton remains deeply involved in JUMP Math, focusing on partnerships, program development and fundraising.
“I didn't set out to build an organization,” he said. “I’m a bit of a hermit, so I would happily spend my days doing math and writing plays. But I saw the remarkable potential in children the education system wasn’t tapping into.”
He compares math to “travelling the universe with your imagination, offering glimpses of incredible vistas and structures that transcend the human imagination.” He believes every child deserves that experience.
“We’d think it was tragic if kids couldn’t see the beauty in mountains or stars,” he said, his voice gentle but edged with quiet urgency. “But we accept that many graduate without any appreciation of the invisible beauty of math.”
Mighton continues to bridge the worlds of math and the arts. He had an acting role in the movie Good Will Hunting. An unproduced theatre script sits in his desk drawer, waiting for the day he can return to writing. He teaches in the education stream of Vic One and co-teaches a new online Coursera course, Making Math Click, with learning expert Dr. Barbara Oakley, aimed at helping students build stronger math skills.
“I am deeply honoured to receive the Distinguished Alumni Award from Victoria College,” Mighton said. “Vic nurtured my early interests in both mathematics and the humanities, and I’m grateful to be acknowledged by a community that has shaped so much of my life and work. This recognition inspires me to continue expanding JUMP Math's mission to support every student by ensuring equitable access to quality math education.”
Mighton became an Officer of the Order of Canada in 2010. The young man who nearly flunked math now helps millions succeed in it. The doubting young writer is now a voice in Canada’s theatrical canon. And the Vic student who once relied on his professors for inspiration has become a teacher to the world—showing that failure isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning of the next act.
