Teaching better makes all the difference

People & Places

Reporters are reporters for a reason. We are inquisitive (fancy word for nosey), passionate about transparency and good governance, pretty big fans of our communities and exorbitant word nerds.  

Given the chance, we’ll tell you about the local pugilist who went five rounds for the belt and regale you with a recounting of the prestidigitation at the children’s library. 

Yes, words are our wheelhouse, our bailiwick if you will. Numbers and math, on the other hand, for many of us, it’s our kryptonite. Calculations and formulas and whatnot send a chill down many a reporter’s spine and are the cause of much hand waving and mumbling.  

“Words … we use words …” 

Last week, the topic of math and our near phobia of it came up in the News-Bulletin newsroom. Specifically, our experiences with math teachers. Whether we were decades or just a few years removed from a math classroom, three of us had nearly identical experiences. We all had math teachers who, well, just weren’t good. Don’t come for me; we ALL know a ton of phenomenal teachers. We also know a good number who aren’t that great. 

Now, I’m not saying these folks didn’t know their subject matter. My personal experience tells me my pre-algebra teacher knew his equations forwards and backwards. What he didn’t know was how to convey that knowledge. 

As we compared stories and experiences, there was one huge commonality. The teachers who made math miserable for us were condescending and derisive. The teacher I had would literally stare down his nose at a student who wasn’t grasping the concepts, me included. It’s so disheartening and rather scary to sit in a room at 14 or 15 years old and have a fully grown man look at you with such contempt and scorn it was palpable. 

Hey dude, I was there to learn. No, I didn’t know what a coefficient or variable was or how to use them.  

Telling me something like, “The coefficient of a variable is the number that is placed in front of a variable” is painfully unhelpful. I was fighting for my life just trying to understand what those words meant, let alone what the concept was they were trying to convey. Frankly, I’m still at a loss as to what all that means. 

Keep in mind this was “pre” algebra. This wasn’t even “real” algebra. I managed to flail my way through the pre class and white-knuckled it through algebra I. Thankfully, algebra I was taught by a different teacher who had a much different approach to instruction. More use of plain words, various explanations of terms and concepts helped me grasp what was going on, along with a study buddy sophomore sitting behind me. Andrea, if you ever see this, you saved my life, girl! 

High school was a very long time ago for me, and I know I’ve forgotten a lot of it, but that cold, silent stare after a question, followed by a small sigh as he turned to another student still haunts me.  

As a teenager, I didn’t know what to do. As an adult, I am so disappointed and angry with that man. He was there to teach us — teach us a subject we didn’t know, concepts we hadn’t learned. Some of us grasped them quickly and easily, others, like me, didn’t.  

Even now, closing in on 50, I get a little anxious when it comes to dealing with math. Even straight-forward things like a budget or tallying a group of numbers. Did I do it right? Did I miss a step? Check it and check it again, get the same results three times and still have that little worm of doubt in the back of my brain.  

I get it. Some people have a more intuitive grasp of certain things than others. I have met many folks who find writing a huge challenge, which is weird to me. Words aren’t hard, it’s those damned numbers. 

Or maybe it isn’t that either is hard, per se. Maybe, just maybe, it came down to the people “teaching” the concepts.  

Yes, my pre-algebra teacher knew his stuff, but he didn’t seem terribly interested in teaching it. If you could grasp the subject easily, then you’d do fine. If you couldn’t, well … good luck with all that. 

My algebra teacher, on the other hand, was wildly enthusiastic about his students grasping the concepts. The joy that man expressed when you solved for X was overwhelming.  

While I find math and things like imaginary numbers wildly interesting — and yes, I know to some extent I use algebra on a daily basis — I don’t know that I’ll ever be especially good at it, and that bothers me.  

Am I “bad” at math because my brain just doesn’t grasp it or am I “bad” at it because I keep remembering that small, disappointed sigh, telling me I’d never measure up?