I’m a middle school teacher. I have the pleasure of teaching sixth, seventh and eighth grade students five days a week. Sixth graders are thriving under newfound independence they did not have in elementary school. Seventh graders are bursting at the seams with hormones and using too much body spray hoping to attract their love of the week. At the top of the food chain, eighth graders are too cool for middle school and have their hearts set on becoming a high school freshman. While those are mass generalizations and are inaccurate for some students, the majority of students in middle school have their minds and hearts set on anything but school. I know this because I used to be in middle school. Isn’t that ironic. Despite having been a middle schooler, I chose to teach students just like I used to be. I feel like I relate well with my students for one main reason: I have not forgotten my middle school years. Those years were not always spent reading, writing and doing arithmetic. In all honesty, I should have had more teaching from the tune of a hickory stick.
My parents pushed both my brother and I to do well in school. It wasn’t like torture or anything like that, but they did encourage us to do the best we could. Report cards at our home were allowed to have As and Bs. One did not simply bring a C home to my parents and live to tell the tale. That’s sarcasm. Sort of. That was never really a problem for me, until seventh grade pre-algebra. The material was difficult, letters began taking the place of numbers, and they even fooled you with pretend answers. Don’t remember? Here’s what I’m talking about…
4 ( X + 2 ) = 24
Looking back now, we know that we are trying to ‘solve for X’. But back then these were thoughts going through my head…
X? It’s math. There should be numbers not letters!
Parentheses? In math? What’s wrong with addition, subtraction, multiplying and dividing?
Can we go back to doing multiplication tables of 1-12? That was fun.
It says the answer is 24. Moving on.
Not only did I not understand pre-algebra, but I also had some other issues. My best friends were in that class. Not only were they in that class, but I sat beside them. Oh yeah. You know exactly where this is going.
Solve For X
4 Good Friends + Close Proximity - An Interest In Algebra = X
The answer to this equation is disaster. And it was a disaster. Not only for my grades and ability to ‘solve for X’, but more importantly, my math teacher’s ability to teach. What I’m about to tell you is the truth. None of this is made up or falsified. We would think of new games to play or skits to perform every day. Really. I firmly believe that we put more effort into not doing any work than the effort doing work would actually have demanded. That’s awful isn’t it? But it’s the truth.
We loved to play sports. All of my friends were into sports. Even Brandon was a go-kart racer. We talked about, dreamed about and played sports. We even invented a game to play during math class that, in our minds, allowed us to work on our math and basketball skills all at the same time. While I don’t remember the actual name for this game, for the sake of this blog, we’ll call it Calculator Basketball. My math teacher stored her calculators in an over the door shoe rack on a closet door near where my friends and I sat. Each slot had a number on it to indicate which calculator was assigned to that spot. The rules of the game were pretty simple.
Ball up piece of paper.
Shoot the paper into the calculator cubbies.
Your score, should you make it, would be indicated by the number on the cubby. (Ex: ballin cubby five, you receive five points)
Players would alternate turns each shot.
The player with the most points at the end of class is deemed the winner.
Were we lazy and disruptive or creative and misguided? I’ll let you choose.
The next game we would play was actually based on a popular movie from our youth. The movie Speed, starring Keanu Reeves, was about a man and woman who had to keep a crowded city bus moving at a speed above sixty miles per hour or the bus would blow up killing everyone inside. While our game was not as high stakes or as intense as the movie, it was still pretty awesome.
The goal of the game was simple: to keep the pencil sharpener moving the entire class. At all costs. Or else.
To complete this mission took a class effort. Everyone had to have dull pencils and wills of steel. I can remember standing in line to ‘sharpen’ my pencil, then taking over the handle, turning and turning, until being relieved by another classmate. Did our teacher ever catch on? I’m sure she did. Did the class ever explode because of the bomb in the pencil sharpener? No it did not. Mission successful.
Distractions were kind of our thing back in seventh grade. This next ‘distraction’ was one for the books. One morning, our friends passed around a note to the entire class. This note explained in the greatest detail the need for all students, all coordinated at a certain time, to stand up at their desk and repeat the pledge of allegiance. The only person in class that did not receive this note, you guessed it, was our math teacher. When the time came, every single student in our math class stood up next to their desk, put their hand over their heart, and pledged their allegiance to our wonderful country.
I know that you’re thinking… did our teacher recite it with us? Yes. Yes she did.
Please don’t misunderstand the message that I’m trying to bring across here. I do not condone any of my actions or the actions of my friends. We were misfits. We should have been more interested in ‘solving for X'. We were silly kids trying to make our buddies laugh. At the time, I thought I was being cool. I thought I was being funny.
My parents did not feel the same. And they were justified in thinking that. My dad and mom probably got call after call from my math teacher about my behavior. As a teacher, I would have definitely called home about my behavior! They were also not very happy about my grade in that course. As stated above, home was an A and B home. Your report card had As and Bs or you had no privileges! No video games, no cell phone, no TV. Bad grades at school meant no fun stuff at home!
Even knowing that, I made the problem even worse. Our teacher would give grade reports every two weeks to the students detailing their scores. It was the hope of our teacher that those reports would go home, get signed by a guardian and then be returned. Those grade reports from my math class never made it home. Oh I got them, but they did not get signed and returned! If they were signed it was because I signed my mother’s name and brought them back. Look, I’m not proud of this. It’s just the truth. I didn’t always make the best decisions or even do the right thing. I actually dug the hole deeper by not turning in my grade reports. I could have received credit, pulled my grade up faster and been on the road to no restriction. But no. I knew better, right? Silly me.
Long story short, I ended up just barely making a B in the class. I studied, did my work and cut out a little of the goofing off in class. I had to. If I ever wanted to come off of restriction, I had to have a B. It wasn’t easy. But I did it.
To my seventh grade math teacher, I’m sorry. I was not the most well behaved student. I goofed off more than I should have and did not give you the respect that you deserved. Teaching and working with students over the past few years has given me a whole new appreciation for what you had to put up with in that classroom. I’m sorry for the paper in your calculator storage bins. I’m sorry for the pencil sharpener always interrupting your teaching. And I’m sorry that we conspired a pledge of allegiance faction in the middle of class. I’m pretty sure we all also joined together and dropped our books at the same time, too. I think that was your class. If it was, I’m sorry. You were a very sweet woman. So sweet that you didn’t beat us in the head with a pre-algebra book. Thank you for that. I hope we did not force you into an early retirement. If it is any consolation, I will never, ever forget you or the events that transpired in your class.
To my parents, I’m sorry. I goofed off quite a bit in school that year. If my actions led to you being embarrassed in any way, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hid those grade reports from you in my closet and even signed some using your name. That wasn’t smart and I know my kids will probably return the favor in a few years. Thank you for disciplining me and instilling in me that there are consequences for my actions. Your lessons have stayed with me to this day. I appreciate every spanking, every restriction and every hard talk. It has made me, well… me.
Teachers, don’t give up on the trouble kids. The majority of them are good kids who just need a little extra attention. When they act out, it isn’t because they don’t like you. They want to be cool. They want to make people smile. They just need some better direction on how to do that. Give them a break every now and again.
Parents, discipline your kids appropriately when they need it. It will make them a much better person. Appropriate discipline is another example of love. If you love your children, you’ll discipline your children. Don’t let them become those kids who never do anything wrong and blame everyone else for their failure.
Students and kids, don’t do as I did. Pay attention in class, do the work and get your grade reports signed. School is for learning, not just for hanging out. Use times like break, lunch and free time to talk, chat and hangout. When the teacher is talking, let them talk. When the teacher asks a question, raise your hand and try to answer. Who cares if you’re wrong? We are all wrong sometimes. Do your best. That’s all teachers want.
I now know how to ‘solve for X’ thanks in large part to my seventh grade math teacher. Because of her class, I learned how to be a good student. It is my hope that if she ever looks back on us crazy kids, it is not with regret or feelings of failure. She made a huge impact in my life as a student. I grew more during that year and learned more about math sitting in that classroom than any classroom before. To my seventh grade math teacher, thank you.
Have any trouble making stories from your middle school years? Comment below or send me a message and tell me all about them! Be sure to subscribe to the mailing list, too!
Happy Fryeday!
