| Biographical Non-Fiction posted June 23, 2022 |
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The weakest class in Mathematics
How to hook them?!
by Wendy G
This is the second of a serious of stories about my teaching career. The first was "The school with the birthday box".
I asked for the weakest Maths class in Year 10 to be allocated to me for the coming school year.
I knew no-one else wanted that class of mostly boys, many openly rebellious. It was a daunting challenge, but one I relished.
Twenty-four fifteen-year-old boys with raging hormones, and "attitude", and two girls! On the first day of the school year they already looked surly and discouraged, and announced,
"You got the dummies, Miss!"
Imagine their astonishment when I told them I had chosen to have them.
"Why?"
"Because the only way is UP!" I told them. I explained that perhaps when they were younger they had missed some important mathematical concepts, maybe through absence or illness.
"My job is to go back and find where those problems are, and find a way to reteach them so that you get it!"
I explained that it was like trying to build a brick wall which had holes near the foundation, and very little mortar – that's why the wall kept falling down. I told them that was my job – to help them as much as I could, and their job was to never give up. We could and would make good progress. It would be a win-win situation. I sensed a measure of disbelief.
"We will work as a team!" I continued, "But first, I want you to complete my little survey." My survey asked them to tick boxes concerning their attitude to Maths (from "hate" to "love", and included options such as "boring" and "irrelevant"). More than one box could be ticked. Their answers were predictable. Other questions concerned the type and frequency of homework (from "every day" to "never", and included "finish what we didn't get done in class", and "choose to do however many questions you want until you feel competent in that area"). Never had they been asked such questions.
The next day we graphed the results of the surveys on the whiteboard. The students helped. They were amazed to discover that they could do bar graphs themselves. Graphs were suddenly relevant when it concerned homework decisions! We discussed the results and organised a mutually acceptable homework policy. Everybody contributed, and my first outcome was already being achieved – I now sensed the tiniest glimmer of hope in their midst.
I had one caveat about homework. They were not to become distressed by the pressures of home-work. If they made an acceptable effort, but could not understand the work, they were to mark those sections with an asterisk, and the following day I would find a different way to help them understand. If the homework was too long, they were not to stay up late to finish it. I understood that sometimes teachers can be unrealistic about the amount of time homework takes. I expected and received honesty from them.
My goal was to promote the virtues of perseverance and effort, and these were always acknowledged. I pointed out to them: "Effort matters more than achievement." That was met with shock. I explained.
"Kids who are good at Maths can often get top marks with little effort. Students who get a C or D for Achievement Grade, but receive an A for Effort Grade – that shows me something. That person tries his best. He perseveres, even when he finds a subject difficult. He has grit and determination, and doesn't give up. And if I was an employer, that's the sort of person I would choose to employ!" That was a different perspective for them, and a meaningful one.
My resolutions were to promote a cooperative and supportive learning environment and to make my lessons varied and interesting - yes, even when I taught that dreaded last lesson on Friday, when everyone was tired and looking forward to the weekend.
I wanted them to know they were valued as individuals. I never wanted a single student to go home sad or discouraged by the way I had treated him or her. Ever. I wanted to "hear" them thinking I believed in them and cared. I won't deny that there were frustrating times when I had to remind myself that each was precious, unique and valued. These teenagers were, after all, generally known as "challenging" and unmotivated.
I distinctly remember one day when a student was distressed because he felt like he was hopeless at school, at everything. I focussed on his strengths and reminded him that he could do things which I couldn't do. He expressed disbelief. But he was in fact a champion swimmer. I can barely swim, and I shared that with him. I encouraged him to think that he would perhaps one day save someone from drowning, or could teach young children about water safety and how to swim. His face glowed. A different perspective. Self esteem is everything. School is not everything.
But yes, that final lesson on Friday afternoons, once a fortnight….! That would be a challenge. I would have to be creative. Very creative!
More to follow ....
This is the second of a serious of stories about my teaching career. The first was "The school with the birthday box".
I asked for the weakest Maths class in Year 10 to be allocated to me for the coming school year.
I knew no-one else wanted that class of mostly boys, many openly rebellious. It was a daunting challenge, but one I relished.
Twenty-four fifteen-year-old boys with raging hormones, and "attitude", and two girls! On the first day of the school year they already looked surly and discouraged, and announced,
"You got the dummies, Miss!"
Imagine their astonishment when I told them I had chosen to have them.
"Why?"
"Because the only way is UP!" I told them. I explained that perhaps when they were younger they had missed some important mathematical concepts, maybe through absence or illness.
"My job is to go back and find where those problems are, and find a way to reteach them so that you get it!"
I explained that it was like trying to build a brick wall which had holes near the foundation, and very little mortar – that's why the wall kept falling down. I told them that was my job – to help them as much as I could, and their job was to never give up. We could and would make good progress. It would be a win-win situation. I sensed a measure of disbelief.
"We will work as a team!" I continued, "But first, I want you to complete my little survey." My survey asked them to tick boxes concerning their attitude to Maths (from "hate" to "love", and included options such as "boring" and "irrelevant"). More than one box could be ticked. Their answers were predictable. Other questions concerned the type and frequency of homework (from "every day" to "never", and included "finish what we didn't get done in class", and "choose to do however many questions you want until you feel competent in that area"). Never had they been asked such questions.
The next day we graphed the results of the surveys on the whiteboard. The students helped. They were amazed to discover that they could do bar graphs themselves. Graphs were suddenly relevant when it concerned homework decisions! We discussed the results and organised a mutually acceptable homework policy. Everybody contributed, and my first outcome was already being achieved – I now sensed the tiniest glimmer of hope in their midst.
I had one caveat about homework. They were not to become distressed by the pressures of home-work. If they made an acceptable effort, but could not understand the work, they were to mark those sections with an asterisk, and the following day I would find a different way to help them understand. If the homework was too long, they were not to stay up late to finish it. I understood that sometimes teachers can be unrealistic about the amount of time homework takes. I expected and received honesty from them.
My goal was to promote the virtues of perseverance and effort, and these were always acknowledged. I pointed out to them: "Effort matters more than achievement." That was met with shock. I explained.
"Kids who are good at Maths can often get top marks with little effort. Students who get a C or D for Achievement Grade, but receive an A for Effort Grade – that shows me something. That person tries his best. He perseveres, even when he finds a subject difficult. He has grit and determination, and doesn't give up. And if I was an employer, that's the sort of person I would choose to employ!" That was a different perspective for them, and a meaningful one.
My resolutions were to promote a cooperative and supportive learning environment and to make my lessons varied and interesting - yes, even when I taught that dreaded last lesson on Friday, when everyone was tired and looking forward to the weekend.
I wanted them to know they were valued as individuals. I never wanted a single student to go home sad or discouraged by the way I had treated him or her. Ever. I wanted to "hear" them thinking I believed in them and cared. I won't deny that there were frustrating times when I had to remind myself that each was precious, unique and valued. These teenagers were, after all, generally known as "challenging" and unmotivated.
I distinctly remember one day when a student was distressed because he felt like he was hopeless at school, at everything. I focussed on his strengths and reminded him that he could do things which I couldn't do. He expressed disbelief. But he was in fact a champion swimmer. I can barely swim, and I shared that with him. I encouraged him to think that he would perhaps one day save someone from drowning, or could teach young children about water safety and how to swim. His face glowed. A different perspective. Self esteem is everything. School is not everything.
But yes, that final lesson on Friday afternoons, once a fortnight….! That would be a challenge. I would have to be creative. Very creative!
More to follow ....
I asked for the weakest Maths class in Year 10 to be allocated to me for the coming school year.
I knew no-one else wanted that class of mostly boys, many openly rebellious. It was a daunting challenge, but one I relished.
Twenty-four fifteen-year-old boys with raging hormones, and "attitude", and two girls! On the first day of the school year they already looked surly and discouraged, and announced,
"You got the dummies, Miss!"
Imagine their astonishment when I told them I had chosen to have them.
"Why?"
"Because the only way is UP!" I told them. I explained that perhaps when they were younger they had missed some important mathematical concepts, maybe through absence or illness.
"My job is to go back and find where those problems are, and find a way to reteach them so that you get it!"
I explained that it was like trying to build a brick wall which had holes near the foundation, and very little mortar – that's why the wall kept falling down. I told them that was my job – to help them as much as I could, and their job was to never give up. We could and would make good progress. It would be a win-win situation. I sensed a measure of disbelief.
"We will work as a team!" I continued, "But first, I want you to complete my little survey." My survey asked them to tick boxes concerning their attitude to Maths (from "hate" to "love", and included options such as "boring" and "irrelevant"). More than one box could be ticked. Their answers were predictable. Other questions concerned the type and frequency of homework (from "every day" to "never", and included "finish what we didn't get done in class", and "choose to do however many questions you want until you feel competent in that area"). Never had they been asked such questions.
The next day we graphed the results of the surveys on the whiteboard. The students helped. They were amazed to discover that they could do bar graphs themselves. Graphs were suddenly relevant when it concerned homework decisions! We discussed the results and organised a mutually acceptable homework policy. Everybody contributed, and my first outcome was already being achieved – I now sensed the tiniest glimmer of hope in their midst.
I had one caveat about homework. They were not to become distressed by the pressures of home-work. If they made an acceptable effort, but could not understand the work, they were to mark those sections with an asterisk, and the following day I would find a different way to help them understand. If the homework was too long, they were not to stay up late to finish it. I understood that sometimes teachers can be unrealistic about the amount of time homework takes. I expected and received honesty from them.
My goal was to promote the virtues of perseverance and effort, and these were always acknowledged. I pointed out to them: "Effort matters more than achievement." That was met with shock. I explained.
"Kids who are good at Maths can often get top marks with little effort. Students who get a C or D for Achievement Grade, but receive an A for Effort Grade – that shows me something. That person tries his best. He perseveres, even when he finds a subject difficult. He has grit and determination, and doesn't give up. And if I was an employer, that's the sort of person I would choose to employ!" That was a different perspective for them, and a meaningful one.
My resolutions were to promote a cooperative and supportive learning environment and to make my lessons varied and interesting - yes, even when I taught that dreaded last lesson on Friday, when everyone was tired and looking forward to the weekend.
I wanted them to know they were valued as individuals. I never wanted a single student to go home sad or discouraged by the way I had treated him or her. Ever. I wanted to "hear" them thinking I believed in them and cared. I won't deny that there were frustrating times when I had to remind myself that each was precious, unique and valued. These teenagers were, after all, generally known as "challenging" and unmotivated.
I distinctly remember one day when a student was distressed because he felt like he was hopeless at school, at everything. I focussed on his strengths and reminded him that he could do things which I couldn't do. He expressed disbelief. But he was in fact a champion swimmer. I can barely swim, and I shared that with him. I encouraged him to think that he would perhaps one day save someone from drowning, or could teach young children about water safety and how to swim. His face glowed. A different perspective. Self esteem is everything. School is not everything.
But yes, that final lesson on Friday afternoons, once a fortnight….! That would be a challenge. I would have to be creative. Very creative!
More to follow ....
 Recognized |
In Australia we refer to the subject as Maths as it incorporates various branches such as arithmetic, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, statistics and others.
Spelling throughout is Australian, which tends to follow the British system.
The students were graded on their Maths results at the end of Year 8. The most able did an Advanced Maths class, there were two medium level classes, and the weakest did a lower level, with easier work. Each level offered an end-of-year award for being first or second in the class, and these weaker students all could strive for that success and prestige.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Spelling throughout is Australian, which tends to follow the British system.
The students were graded on their Maths results at the end of Year 8. The most able did an Advanced Maths class, there were two medium level classes, and the weakest did a lower level, with easier work. Each level offered an end-of-year award for being first or second in the class, and these weaker students all could strive for that success and prestige.
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