Not My Job ... Or Is It?

With a change in location and employment comes the return of an old idea. It's not universal among math teachers—I hope it's not common for even a majority of teachers. But every once in a while, I hear something along these lines:

"It's math class. I don't do English."

I just came from a school with the philosophy that every teacher is a language arts teacher. (Honestly, to such a degree that it could be a pain sometimes ... but a necessary pain.) Other schools likely feel the same way to one degree or another. But not all teachers buy into that.

Does it mean docking points when the math is all correct but there are spelling or grammar errors? No, I don't think so. What, then?

As writers (and particularly YA writers), many of us have considered how our books might be read and used in schools. Visions of curriculum guides, worksheets, projects, discussions ... almost all in English class, right?

How could other teachers use our books? Historical fiction could tie into social studies classes. Science fiction might work in some science classes, at least in portions. But what could teachers do beyond straight-up reading assignments to encourage both interest and skill in reading and writing?

A few things I've done:

• When a new, strange word comes up, take a few seconds to discuss it ... even if it's not a "vocabulary" word for my unit.
• Have students do small writing assignments to explain their thinking. I encourage clarity and completeness, and while I don't mark off for grammar errors, I give little nudges.
• TALK ABOUT BOOKS. Just because it's math class doesn't mean I don't have moments here and there to talk about what I'm reading, what students are reading, what they think of the last book in one trilogy or another, etc.

Okay, I need more ideas. What have you guys got?

Student-Centered, Math-Anchored

There's something in education you may or may not have heard of—the student-centered approach. Here's what some people think it looks like:

Students doing whatever they want, however they want, as long as it has some tenuous connection to the subject at hand. There are no wrong answers. Math facts are left by the wayside.

Basically chaos, with very little education happening.

I imagine some teachers actually carry it out that way, but that's not the philosophy as I understand it. When we hear the term "student-centered," I think we tend to have ideas of, "Let the student lead the way. Let the student determine everything." So I try not to think about student-centered without including something else.

Math-anchored.

I envision students out at sea, paddling around in the water, exploring to their hearts' content. The earlier illustration would end there, but when I think of it, each student also has a tether. How much rope they have might vary, but all the lines are connected to a stable post. They'll reach that post from different sides and at different rates—of course, as the teacher, I'm there giving gentle tugs to each rope to urge them in my general direction—but they'll all get to the same endpoint.

That destination is the core principle, the major mathematical idea that's the reason we're doing the activity or exploration at all. Students are empowered to delve into the thick of it, really engage their brains to make sense out of a situation. They see the different approaches their classmates took and discuss whether they're equally valid.

Most importantly, they come away with an understanding of that root concept.

Like most things, easier said than done. Even if I set up a great lesson, it can be awfully tempting to forget those "gentle tugs" and just haul each student in by their tether. It's also easy to run out of time before they reach the destination, and then forget the next day that I've left them adrift.

Before we even get started, then, I'd better make sure they all have life preservers. In other words, setting up a classroom environment where they know the expectations and what to do when they're left without the mathematical understanding we're looking for.

Can you tell the first day of school is coming up?

Wish me luck.

The Make-or-Break Teachers

I'm getting ready to start a new school year. As always, there's a thought that lingers over all my preparations.

I hope I don't screw up any of the kids too much.

To be fair, I'm pretty sure I haven't screwed up any kids yet. There have been a few I wish I could've done more for, but I think my track record's pretty solid. There's a little extra anxiety this year since I'm starting at a new school—or rather, my old school after several years away.

It's an interesting situation, because it's the school I went to as a teenager, along with being where I launched my teaching career. My family and I are rooted in this area, so a lot of the neighbors know I'm returning to teach there. Several of them are hoping to transfer their child into my class if at all possible.

No pressure, ha-ha.

Seriously, though, one thing I've heard from parents in the last several weeks (and indeed the past several years) is how important they feel it is that their child gets the right math teacher. A good math teacher can take a student from hating math to at least tolerating it, if not better. A bad math teacher can bring a skilled student's progress to a grinding halt. Often that damage is never recovered.

Is it the same in other disciplines? Probably, to a degree, anyway. But it seems like the near-irreparability is more severe in math. I had English classes that I hated, but they couldn't kill my love for reading and writing (obviously). Then again, if I'd been a struggling reader in elementary school, and a bad teacher only reinforced and exacerbated my struggles, that could've set me back for the rest of my life.

Once past the learning-to-read stage, moving on to reading-to-learn, it seems the make-or-break power of teachers lessens somewhat. (I hope so, considering teens I've known with English teachers of ... questionable quality.) Math works a little differently, always with a new skill, a new principle to learn.

That makes my job potentially dangerous.

Maybe a different approach is in order. Maybe if I keep the focus on helping kids develop their ability to think, to reason, to problem-solve—and I don't mean "A Train leaves Station A at 6:45 am" kind of problems, I mean real "Here's a situation and we need a solution" problems—maybe that means I won't have to worry so much about breaking anyone.

Because you know what? There's something else underlying this whole line of thought. To have the power to break, I have to keep a monopoly on the power to build.

The students need to be allowed to build themselves. Maybe they'll suffer minor breakages along the way, too, but maybe that's what I'm really there for ...

... to provide the super-glue when they need to mend their own breaks.

Have you had experiences with teachers (math or otherwise) who had that make-or-break position in your life? What made the good ones good, and the bad ones terrors?

Teachers Don't Always Like Being the Grown-Up

This is a real shocker, right? Of course teachers take joy in torturing students with mountains of homework and giving detention. They would never want to do anything else. They don't even exist outside of classrooms.

What, you didn't know that? We evaporate if we try to go anywhere the normal public goes outside school hours. Very painful.

Seriously, there are times I think to myself, "I should be more strict and stern. I'm supposed to be the adult in the room." But my students make me laugh too much. (Not all the time, but in some classes, often.) Then I remember that super-strict isn't my style, and in those classes with lots of laughter, the kids are still learning. Laughing while they do it means they often hate math without hating math class. Sometimes that leads to not hating math so much, either. I'll take what I can get.

Here's something students don't always believe: Just like they have days when they'd rather not have to think so hard and work, there are days we'd rather not think so hard and teach. But because we're grown-ups, we suck it up and do it anyway. It's always nice to see teenagers reach that point of realization. "I don't feel good/I'm tired/I'm distracted, but it doesn't matter. I have to get the job done anyway."

There are other times when the knowledge that I'm the adult in the room is a little scary. When a student is upset, or gets hurt, or two of them are spiraling toward a full-out brawl ... I have a split second of "Yikes! I'm the one who has to handle this."

And then I do.

So remember, teachers are people, too. If you're a parent, make sure your children are aware of that little-known fact. And if you're a writer, try not to make every teacher in your writing a one-dimensional caricature. ;)