Dear Students,
There
is a method to my madness. Always. The only validity I need for why I call you
up to the front of the class to do your work, that terrifying place where
judgment and anxiety collide together, is because I have been in your
shoes. I too was once a teenager who did
not understand math. Nodding along in
class, passively taking notes, and praying that the teacher would never call on
me described my behavior during math class until the tenth grade.
See,
I always wanted to be a teacher. For
some reason I have always wanted to get up early each morning, go to school,
and help others discover and learn new concepts and ideas. I love the environment of schools and several
of my teachers became personal heroes.
But, there was one teacher that changed the way I looked, did, and
thought of math. His name was Mr. Mack,
a former military drill sergeant. And
that is exactly how he ran his class.
In
the military, you are thrown from your comfort zone where your only option is
to survive. When I call you up to the
front of the class to solve a problem or share your work, I know you are uncomfortable. I was too. Yes, you will tell me you do not want to take
those five, nerve-wracking steps to the head of the class. You will try to defy me, you’re afraid of
making a mistake. I was too. There’s an old saying – no pain, no
gain. It is one many personal trainers
believe in and a tactic used by the military in boot camp. When you go to the front of the room, you
want to do well and you’re terrified of failing – it hurts. But there is much that I want you to gain
from it.
How
do you combat that fear when, inevitably, your name is next on my list? You study.
That’s how I fought back – I studied.
You push yourself to ask questions and complete all assignments so that
for those moments when you are told, not asked, to come from the front of the
room you can be proud of your achievements.
You can show off to the entire class what you have mastered, take
charge, and answer your peers’ questions for a change. That’s what happened with me. This is a medal of honor. Not only have you mastered the academic
material, you have also conquered your fears of public speaking. So the next time you whine and complain about
me, or any other teacher, calling you up to the front of the room with the
philosophy that this strategy will make you a better, prouder student, just
know that we do it because it works: worked for us and will work for you.
Now,
I know that this philosophy does not work for every student and I have to make
accommodations, but sticking with the military-style, boot camp image, soldiers
help each other. No man is ever left
behind. And Mr. Mack assured the same
thing to my Algebra II class. I may call
you to the board and I know, that you know, not a darn thing. And that’s okay. I would never leave you up there stranded,
but your comrades will assist you. At
the front, you’ll start by assessing the problem and a classmate could get you
started in the right direction. Maybe
you find you can begin the problem and need some assistance getting the numbers
and variables untangled somewhere in the middle. Finally, maybe you’ve made it all the way
through the trenches, fixed all of your mistakes and are ready to come home but
you can’t find the final answer. You can
turn and look at me for help, but I redirect you to your classmates for
saving. As a troop, you and all of your
classmates need to work together and finish the mission presented on the
board. I, your fearless leader, have earned
my stripes. I know the answer, I know
how to not make simple the simple mistakes you are fumbling through. Of what benefit would it be if I never let
you learn from your own, personal errors?
Why would I let the class sit idly by and be an audience to an
individual tutoring session if I walked you through the problem? I let your classmates flex their muscles and
jump into the action to stay warmed up, reinforcing what they already know, so
that they are prepared to serve when called to action later that class period.
Continuing
this train of thought, what was the purpose of Mr. Mack, and now myself,
running this math class like a boot camp?
Soldiers go through boot camp to prepare for war. Boot camp enables them to become fearless men
and women of valor that, despite being scared, are filled with courage and
faith to fight victoriously through the war by relying on their basic
training. Not every battle may be
won. You may not complete every homework
assignment or excel on each test. The
goal is not to win the battle but the war.
You will learn from the battles.
Learn what mistakes were made, how to avoid them, make another plan of
action to do better the next time.
Because, unfortunately, there is a war.
A large one. The school system is
designed where I put you through nine months of basic training before you’re
called to the media center to be placed in front of your enemy, the End of
Course Exam from the country of Common Core.
Your mission is to fight as best as you can in the allotted time,
relying on the skills learned in my class, to win the war over this
standardized assessment and prove what you can do.
My
plan of attack as your drill sergeant is to simultaneously teach the math
content while eliminating fear from your vocabulary. If you can solve a problem in front of a
classroom filled with your peers, unaffected by the judgment of terrible teenagers
and their brutal ways, accurately and confident in your skills and knowledge,
then I know you can sit down, stare the enemy in the eye, one on one, and leave
that media center the victorious winner of the End of Course Exam war.
I
have been there. I am a decorated
veteran. Mr. Mack changed my outlook on
math. The fear of being wrong was shattered
as he pulled me from the comfort zone of my desk and to the open field of the
white board. I was completely transparent.
Everyone was going to know how little I knew about math. But that was what I needed. The growing pains this teaching philosophy
incurred made me grow stronger. I ended
up being able to think critically and master material that I never thought I
could before. The fear of showing my
classmates my abilities drove me to the textbooks each night to refine my
skills and forced me to raise my hand in class when I did not understand
something. Fear soon turned to pride as
fifteen-year-old Ms. Hoffman no longer dreaded going to the front of the room
but was excited to demonstrate what I had mastered. At the end of the school year, I faced the
enemy. The war was long. Back-up calculators were needed. And erasers were lost. But, never was I afraid.
To
my former students, I never told you, but this is why I “traumatized” you every
day. I may not have made clear the
reasons you were called upon abruptly to leave your chairs and head towards the
teaching zone. But this was why. This teaching strategy was used on me and
inspired me to become a math teacher. If
a fumbling math student like myself could be transformed into an academic
all-star, then I know you can too. My use
of this method has not been perfect.
This past year, my first year teaching specifically, gave me many
opportunities to refine my boot camp teaching style into a training program
that worked best for me and for each class period. Thank you for challenging my classroom
management and instructional methods by refusing to come to the front of the
room, interrupting a peer in a harsh manner, and making me wonder if how I was
teaching was actually beneficial. Many
moments in our classes were teachable moments for both you and me. I will always value them.
To
my present students, you can thank the troop before you for some of my changed
philosophies. I now know that it is psychologically
paralyzing for some students to go to the front of the class as Mr. Mack had
myself and my peers do. When I let you
go the board with a partner it is because I have learned the importance of
strength in numbers. Sometimes the
company of a friend can help you face your fears head on. When the board is sectioned off into three
different columns it is because I have learned the sedating effect of
monotony. Three of you may be called to
the board to demonstrate work you have completed to solve different phases of
the same problem. How much more
interesting is it to see how three different students’ work comes together to
solve one problem. Lastly, when I let
you come to the board armed with your notes to assist you in public battle of
the problem on the board, it is because I have learned the difference between a
good soldier and a great solider is how well prepared he is. When a new concept is introduced, sometimes
notes are the guidance needed to help make a new skill an old habit.
Finally,
to my future students, you have no doubt heard the horror stories from Ms. Hoffman’s
class. But, you haven’t heard my stories
of the pride and confidence I have seen light up your predecessors’ faces once
they have swallowed their fears and embraced the front of the classroom as a
privilege, not a punishment. I am still
learning as a teacher and want to try new things. I will not alter my boot camp inspired teaching
style, but I am willing to change some of the battles you face. I am willing to let you create your own
battles – let you design problems around what interests you and letting you
pick the classmate to battle it. Or, I
can give you the end result of the fight and let you figure out what the enemy
did to end up that way. Giving you the
blank canvas in front of the classroom to learn, grow, and show off your
strengths has proven effective, this I will not change.
Sylvia
Aston-Warner was a reading teacher who journaled her experiences teaching young
children how to read by walking a mile in their shoes to determine the best
methods to teach. Where as Aston-Warner
assumed the position of a five-year-old student to develop personal
philosophies that would meet the needs of her young students, my personal
philosophies were developed as I actually experienced being a teenager who did
not understand math and changing into a student whose mathematical
understanding was transformed.
Like
Aston-Warner, we both enjoy a classroom environment in which there is “volcanic
energy” from students eager to assist their peers or demonstrate what they
know, where the “unpredictability” of “interesting people” helps the entire
class to “uncover” the individual strengths and weaknesses represented in the room
so that everyone can learn together (p. 48).
Lastly, Aston-Warner and I “like the true form of living, even in school,” where students are
encouraged to make mistakes, vocalize their needs, and be challenged rather
than well manufactured producers of facts they will never need or remember.
It
is very possible that many of you will leave my class and never use or remember
some of the math concepts that were taught in the explicit curriculum provided
by the school district. That is
fine. What I want you to learn is how to
productively and effectively overcome your fears and become constructive,
critical problem solvers. This type of curriculum
will stay with you, and be used, for your entire life.
With
your best interest in mind,
Marissa Hoffman
References
Aston-Warner, S. (1963). Teacher.
