091. Arithmophobia

[In which our heroine admits to being bad at math. But, no, really.]

The lowest grade I ever got in school was a D in 7th grade math. It was a little mortifying, but also freeing because upon seeing that round little letter on my report card (as opposed to the pointy one I was used to) the sky did not fall and and the earth did not swallow me up and no one stopped being my friend. And though I thought about “losing” it out the bus window, I took the report card home and my parents did not ground me for life. This was a win out of a rather serious fail, but there’s good reason for it.

My 7th grade math teacher was an idiot teacher. He’s probably still and idiot teacher. I do not mean to upset or offend, just mean that he’s one of those teachers who is ridiculously smart and he probably tried to solve the world’s problems with math on a chalkboard in his garage on the weekends but he could not connect with his students at all. The smart kids who got math without any help were fine, but there were many of us were left floundering and though we asked questions and did our homework, we were never made it to the math is fun party (which I still doubt exists, except when I watch NUMB3RS.

I should mention that my 6th grade math teacher was possibly the meanest, most cruel teacher I ever had or heard of. He would start many classes with math trivia or logic game and would laugh at you if you got the wrong answer. Literally, laugh. Needless to say this didn’t put me in a great frame of mind for 7th grade math. (We did extract a bit of revenge, though; directly outside the 6th grade math classroom, there was a trap door in the floor that was loose and so it made a loud CLUNK noise when you stepped on it and though Mr. Meanypants would come screaming out of his classroom when you stepped on it, we all stomped on it and then made sure we were very far down the hall by the time he made it to the door. )

The kicker of it all is that in 8th grade, I won the math award. No lie. At the end of the year, my AWESOME math teacher Mr. C presented me with the math award not only for getting straight As but also for helping my classmates succeed. He asked me to sit in the back with the popular boys (win for the nerdy girl!) and make sure that they were paying attention and that they did their work. Though this would have been an excellent opportunity to get in good with that crowd by letting them goof off and doing their work for them, I actually made them find X and that they did their homework (and was later spared embarrassing moments in high school because even though I was a band geek and though they’d never say it out loud, they thought I was good people).

The only difference between seventh and eighth grade was the teacher. Same school, same hallway, same expectations, and the same anxiety going into the grade because of prior math experience. Clearly, the change came from the teacher and his teaching style; something just clicked and I got it, felt better about it, and succeeded.

I have often wanted to become one of those really good teachers whom the kids love, who fights for the betterment of her students, whose life ends up as a Lifetime movie, inspiring moms everywhere that someday their kids will have a teacher as awesome as me. Then I remember the test grading, parent-teacher conferences, the paper grading, faculty meetings, principals, other teachers, never having enough money (for yourself or your classroom)… And I think how great it is that some people still want to do it. I’ve had a couple outstanding teachers, including one who spoke African languages!, and I know I’m a better person for having sat in their classrooms. So thanks, awesome teachers, you are so appreciated.

Any outstanding teachers you want to shout-out?