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The math whiz commences his lesson with a sheet of yellow foolscap on a coffee shop table. "This is one of the best teaching tools there is," he says, looking at the single-lined page. "No need for calculators."

Next, he poses a question: "How can you cut this paper so that it can fit around the waist of a full-grown person?" He presents the problem with eyes so wide and gestures so wild that neighbouring coffee drinkers steal glances at the 28-year-old PhD student.

This is Adrian Tang in slow gear. He's still suffering from jet lag two days after a flight home from Hanoi, where he helped coach a team of six teenaged Canadians to one silver and three bronze medals at the 48th annual International Math Olympiad. It was a strong showing for Canada, especially considering the team lacked a single student with previous IMO experience.

Math and science education in this country has been scrutinized of late, most recently by the World Economic Forum, which says poor results compared with the rest of the world are sinking our international competitiveness.

Canadian educators may do well to follow the lead of the country's IMO competitors, four of who were actually born outside Canada and brought to this country a fierce passion for problem solving nurtured in countries rich in math culture. "The trend of immigrants making the team, it can't be ignored," Mr. Tang says. "Other countries simply stress doing well in math more."

But for Mr. Tang, who emigrated to Canada in 1987 from Hong Kong and is working on a doctorate in math and cryptography, doing well at math has a lot to do with how it's taught. "Most kids don't hate mathematics," says Mr. Tang, who also competed at the IMO in 1998. "They just hate the way it's presented."

Mr. Tang has presented his paper puzzle as a guest speaker at elementary school classes. It elicits a response rare in most primary math classes. Children shred and shear and puzzle over the blank page with unbridled glee. Some figure it out; some insist the task requires Scotch tape.

Either way, Mr. Tang gets his point across: Math is more than numbers on a page.

Canada's IMO competitors all learned this lesson at an early age. Parents or grandparents introduced them to the mysteries of problem solving before they'd even started first grade.

Alexander Remora, Canada's sole silver medalist, received his first math lessons in Moscow from his chemist parents. By the time he'd started elementary school, he was already entering problem- solving competitions. By fifth grade, he was consistently placing first in competitions encompassing the entire Russian capital, where math is regarded more as professional sport than geeky pursuit.

"There is a different math culture in Russia," says Mr. Remora, a lanky 16-year-old with a trace Russian accent that's been fading since he moved with his family to Waterloo, Ont., in 2004. "There are many more competitive events there.

"Memorizing the times table wasn't very interesting for me either," he says. "Math in high school is boring. You have to be able to play around with problems. The solutions are sometimes quite beautiful."

Just because Mr. Remora was a prodigy didn't make math classes any more enthralling. His mind would wander often, namely to tennis, basketball and soccer. Indeed, over the years, Canada's IMO teams have fostered a reputation for tack-sharp kids with active social lives.

Where other top countries force its elite math students into intensive year-round training programs, Canada is known for giving its teams more leeway to do what kids do.

"I generally found that the way we train is best at balancing both math and life," says Kent Huynh, a bronze medalist who keeps a healthy leisure schedule of playing badminton and Frisbee, and practising the violin. "We're not forced to do math 24/7, which really fosters a love for math as it applies to the real world."

In June, Mr. Huynh, 16, graduated from University of Toronto Schools. This September, he'll be starting first year at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and hopes to specialize in genetics or computer encryption.

The Canadian Mathematical Society selected and trained the IMO competitors. Last winter, it hosted a camp at Toronto's York University where the society posed a number of problems to 15 students. Based on their results and their personalities, officials whittled the team down to six.

"It is very tough," Mr. Tang says. "There isn't much separating them."

In addition to Mr. Huynh and Mr. Remora, Yan (Cynthia) Li of Toronto and Steven Karp of Vancouver earned medals. Jonathan Schneider of Toronto and Chengyue (Jarno) Sun of Calgary also competed.

For three weeks leading up to the competition in Vietnam, where they would face 500 of the sharpest high-school mathematicians from 97 other countries, the team underwent intensive training at the University of Calgary and the Banff International Research Station, where they collaborated with the Olympiad team from Mexico. The teams endured several tests that mimicked the Olympiad format - complete three complex problems in less than 4½ hours - before they finally flew to Asia.

These contests have a function beyond simply rewarding budding brains. The country's technology sector - in addition to other industries - relies on young mathematicians as vital intellectual assets. "Recruiting for the tech sector is a huge problem in this country right now," says Thomas Salisbury, president of the Canadian Mathematical Society.

"We need to find ways of encouraging students to stick with math, to actually do more math, to avoid the peer pressure that keeps some students away from it."

The gap between classroom math and real-world math is another commonly cited reason for the subject's low regard among most high-school students. But it doesn't seem to be a problem for members of Team Canada, for whom mathematics is more a life philosophy than a narrow skill set.

"It is pretty omnipresent," Mr. Huynh says. "Some people don't get the chance to realize that. There's math involved in everything, from financial transactions to the way petals are arranged on a flower."

Mr. Tang may be having success helping lead Canada's brightest young minds into competition, but back at the coffee shop, his sole student is befuddled.

"I'll show you," he says, before leaning over ballpoint pen and carefully tracing out a pattern.

By the time he's done his coffee, the page is a mess of cut lines and numbers. He's even folded it into a perfectly symmetrical paper airplane. He bashfully presents it to his student for further study. "Sorry about that," he says. "I can get carried away with this stuff."