At Age 59, I’m Finally Brave Enough to Face Algebra

In 1971, I barely passed 9th-grade algebra. “Solve for x” haunted me day and night. After a semester of failing grades on test after test, my teacher finally took pity and gave me 40 points for “effort” so I could graduate. His act of kindness, if you want to put it that way, allowed me to advance to high school. But just a minute. Isn’t it worth inquiring why I needed 40 points for effort in the first place? Why did I fail all those tests?

I’ll tell you why: Because Mr. Weatherby* was a wretched teacher.

You know who that teacher is: the one who likes the smart kids and ignores or humiliates the struggling ones. The impatient one who speaks too fast. The one who doesn’t recognize shyness, mistaking it for disinterest. The one who doesn’t care about you.

It is a testament to the power of bad teachers that I have never forgotten Mr. Weatherby. Even now, I can’t look at an algebraic equation without my head spinning. Remembering how I felt in his class makes me feel like crying.

So today I did a very brave thing. I visited a 9th-grade algebra class and asked them to show me how to “Solve for x.”

I think at first they were a little skeptical that I, an aged person, would need their assistance. After all, grownups know everything, right? But after I told my 9th-grade story, I think they felt different. Before I’d gotten to class, each student had received an equation of his or her own to work on. When I arrived, I asked them to take turns demonstrating for me how to solve their particular problem. It was a slow process because I interrupted constantly. “Why do you have to add on both sides?” “What do those 3 dots mean?” It occurred to me that I wished I had been brave enough to ask these same questions when I was 14. Perhaps then, I wouldn’t have failed algebra. But by speaking up, I demonstrated to these students that asking questions — even incredibly simple ones — pays off. And there’s no shame in asking.

Some of the students hesitated to demonstrate their solutions while others raced through their explanation or skipped steps. But with gentle encouragement from their teacher, and prompting from me, their confidence grew. I think they began to see that weren’t just “showing their work” to the teacher — they were actually teaching. And so, after the 4th or 5th problem set, I began to finally grasp the steps to simplifying an algebraic equation.

During this time, one student sat back quietly as the others came forward. After each presentation, the teacher asked if he was ready to go up, and each time he shook his head. At that moment, I became that boy: transported back to 1971, dreading having to show my work in front of the class.

But then, something mind-blowing happened. At the very end of class, while students were rising to leave, that boy slowly got up and approached the board. While I sat and watched, he wrote out his problem and showed me how he solved it. “First, you need to find the lowest common denominator,” he began.

We all shared a genuine experience today. It just took a little patience and the understanding that some folks don’t learn at the same pace as others. When students saw that I didn’t immediately grasp certain concepts, they took the time to explain those concepts over again. At the same time, they also saw that I wasn’t afraid to ask questions, even simple ones like “What does that mean?” And that it’s okay to say, “I don’t know.” That is the power that a good teacher has.

So, Mr. Weatherby, if you’re still around… take note.

*Name changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

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