WHY IS MATH HARD FOR ALL? OR IS IT?

I was a high school math teacher for 18 years (Geometry and Algebra 2) and my theory is that it’s hard for people because they learned it in school from people who were “experts” at it….who, naturally, made it all look very easy. Those teachers didn’t intend to make it look easy; they had just done it so many times, they could practically do it in their sleep. In this sense, they aren’t really “teachers” anymore, and, frankly, they’re no longer terribly effective.

Full disclosure: my original degrees were in psychology and special education, so in teaching mathematics, my approach is very different: I have to psych them out. I need to get their attention, keep them thinking, stimulate their curiosity - and, yes, give them a few cheap laughs at my expense. What high school kid doesn’t enjoy laughing at his teacher? After all, it doesn’t cost me a thing, yet it pays off very well…for them! And that’s the whole purpose, is it not?

Therefore, the first three days of class are very carefully structured; individual and group speed drills and what I call “arithmetricks” to build confidence, energy, AND speed - all crucial for their success. Halfway through class on the third day, it’s time. I have something I need to explain to them…and they’re listening. It takes about 20 minutes. I tell them this story - which I’m paraphrasing:

“When I was in school, back in the Stone Age [polite laughter from kids] I was pretty good at most subjects, with one exception. Math! I struggled with math; in fact, I HATED it. I never got good grades, and it was hard work, and I felt stupid, and I’ll never need to know any of this anyway. Right? And yet, isn’t it ironic that I stand before you today - teaching Algebra 2? [I’m psyching them out, remember?] Now, just how I learned it - and exactly why - isn’t important. What IS important, though, is that I understand where some of you are coming from. Let’s face it….who likes feeling stupid? [Silent, knowing looks.] So, yes, sometimes I still have a hard time with it, and the only way I get better at it is through practice.

“I don’t assign homework. I arrange practice. In this class, we practice together, and learn from each other. Outside of class, we all have to trust each other. So, here’s the deal; In here, each day, we practice. I demonstrate puzzles and conundrums on the board, or maybe YOU will…..which is a blast! [nervous smiles and tittering] and in this way, we practice it all together. But here’s the thing, and it’s where I need your help: Whenever I do something you don’t really understand, raise your hand, stop me, and say, ‘Mr. G, why did you put that “6” there?’ or ‘Hey, isn’t that supposed to be negative?’ Thank you for speaking up and stopping me. And I’ll explain it again. Because if you don’t know why, you can bet others don’t know either. But they’re too afraid to ask! But you’re not, are you? [Nope!] And I’ll demonstrate it again, and if you still don’t understand, ask me again.

“Above all, please DON’T just let it go! You see, it’s extremely important that you do this. Do you know why? [Time for The Big Finish.] It’s because I make mistakes, too. Maybe that ‘6’ DOESN’T go there - and you noticed it, but I didn’t. See? You’re not stupid! You knew - and you just taught me.” And they’re all chattering excitedly about the prospect of catching me in a simple stupid error.

However, in order for this whole schtick to work, I have to constantly outsmart them with my stupidity! Any time I’m demonstrating a conundrum (I never use the word “problem” for obvious reasons), and I sense that some are “zoning out,” I’ll casually make some stupid - or not-so-stupid - mistake, and in a flash, someone is bound to say, “Mr. G! That’s wrong! It’s supposed to be Z to the 4th power over negative 12.” Oops! I know my kids; anytime they can make ol’ G look stupid, they’ll do it. And what if nobody bothers to correct my “mistake?” Why, I keep plugging away, and eventually, we’ll arrive at some bizarrely incorrect answer. Way to go, gang! Now, we ALL look stupid, and because we’ve wasted 15 minutes, we get to start from scratch, and figure out where we screwed up.

But it’s still fun for G. Because while I’m peevishly erasing the board, and they’re peevishly erasing their notebooks, I get to deliver the standard 20-second Peevish Teacher routine, about ALWAYS showing your work, because it saves time, doggone it! And, gee whiz, folks, it makes finding mistakes a breeze. Not showing your work is just….well, you know the word. It starts with “s” and ends in “id.” And who wants to be that? Nobody! So I have found that kids learn this lesson much faster when they teach it to themselves. It even became something of a joke between myself and the kids I would get for Algae One, Geometry, and Algae Two: My secret goal was to someday be recognized as America’s laziest math teacher.

By Mark Gruden