Quickly, I confuse them with a projector. Putting on a red wig, earrings, a black dress, and several kilograms, I assign them seats and give them a towering review packet on number theory, the Koch snowflake, Pascal's triangle, fractals, the square root of 5 plus 1 all over 2, infinite sums, the numerous (no pun intended) properties of the number 61, and some logarithmic properties and parabolas. I leave the room in order to print out extra packets on paper of a few ridiculous hues, and quietly doff my costume and escape.
(my math class was weird)
Your favorite number now does not exist. How screwed is mathematics?