Grade 8 Algebra Changed Me.

Grade 8 Algebra changed me.

When I started grade 8, I was so curious what it would be like.

I’d had a vibrant homeroom teacher in grade 6 who helped us explore what made us unique, and we took field trips that made the curriculum feel relevant.

Grade six was full of wonder, complex thinking, and adventure.

My grade 7 teacher was kinda boring.
Last year was …fine? I could barely remember.

September rolled around, and I knew who my homeroom teacher was would make the biggest impact on my year.
(I wouldn’t realize the ripple effects of that impact until much later).

I was hopeful for another magical year.
That lasted maaaybe half a day.

He did the bare minimum. Sat in a corner, ignoring us, while we copied things down from (other teachers’) overhead slides.

From the first day, my new homeroom teacher made it painfully obvious that he wished he was still teaching high school. Daily, he reminded us we were “babies” in comparison.

And when our class of gifted preteens (who were more interested in Magic: The Gathering than muscle cars) didn’t grow starry-eyed to find out he drove a mOtOrCycLe (and so he *had* to use that much gel so his hair would stay put under his helmet)…

Well, then he got a bit mean.

He’d make fun of what kids were wearing.
Rolled his eyes at one boy’s question.
He’d cut another student off mid-sentence. “Shut. Up.”

During math class, there was a problem he had solved that left me confused. He had quickly scribbled the lines on the board while I was still copying down the previous solution. The changes from line-to-line felt like huge jumps in logic to me. I couldn’t follow. It felt like something was missing. I wanted to ask him to clarify, and was worried about how he might react.

But… I was more afraid of not being able to do this problem set.

Sure, there was some pressure from my immigrant father to do well in school.
There was even more pressure from myself.

I couldn’t imagine falling behind my peers. We always raced to finish our homework – and were often done before we even left the classroom. Finishing first was powerful social currency for our group of geeks.

So, despite my nerves, I raised my hand, used my most deferential voice, and politely asked him to walk me through it again.

“I’ve already explained it once. If you still don’t understand, you must be dumb.”

12 year-old Amber was crushed.

Not only because his words were harsh… my identity was wrapped up in my intelligence, and my eighth grade teacher had just dealt that identity a serious blow.

Wait… I’m not “smart”? I was shook.

Since kindergarten, I had gotten in trouble for correcting teachers but it was mostly for things with a cut-and-dry “right” answer, like spelling. When it came to subjective things, I defaulted to simply believing them.

Like when they judged me, or my character.

“Grownups know best.”

People would call me ugly, annoying, fat (yes, adults too!) … and I shrugged it off. Somehow, none of that affected me as much as being called dumb.

At the time, I couldn’t figure out why it impacted me so deeply.
Now, I see it served a really important lesson that changed me.

Seriously – I struggle to imagine what my life would be like without this foundational lesson.

In addition to being in the gifted program, I was also in the A/V club. I read distant-future fantasy novels about dragons on imaginary planets alone in a corner of the library during lunch – if I was wasn’t doing self-assigned homework.

I was a self-professed nerd. One of the “smart kids”.

And a few stupid weeks of stupid algebra changed that.

After my NEW label (“dumb”) was applied to me, I began thinking I couldn’t learn algebra, so I stopped trying. (oh, haiii fixed mindset).

Instead of paying attention to the blackboard, I let my mind wander, and imagined the dragons from my favourite novels flying in and doing their dragon-y thang in the classroom. Preferably to Mr. Math Teacher’s face.

My mark in that class dropped lower than Toni Braxton’s husky contralto.

Cue the phone call to my parents telling them I was failing.

A quick glance at my textbook, and they realized they couldn’t teach me – they knew about as much algebra as my 5 year-old brother.

And financially, a private tutor was absolutely out of the question.

But my parents weren’t going to give up. They had way more faith in me than I had in myself. They knew what I (and that teacher) didn’t – I wasn’t “dumb” or incapable.. The concepts just hadn’t been explained to me in a way my brain could understand.

(So grateful for them. )

We were fortunate to have a computer. They found a set of CD-roms (remember those?) that taught Algebra, Algebra 2, Trigonometry and more. It wasn’t cheap.

It might sound dramatic to say, but it’s absolutely true: Those CDs changed the course of my life.

I worked through those lessons, day after day. Slowly at first – it was mentally exahusting.

(imagine learning math… on a computer… in the 90s)

But my choices were that, or failing.

I took my time, and deconstructed ech problem like the keyboard I had gotten for Christmas. Thoroughly.

Things started to make sense. I sped up, doing more and more questions each day.

It was fun, once I “got it”.

I took my new understanding with me back into the classroom where I helped a few other struggling students who had been left stranded.

Can you imagine how liberating that felt? For all of us?

Less than two years later, I went on to win math contests and awards.

Because of that experience, I took up the role of “teacher” in grade 8. More than 25 years later, I haven’t stopped.

I’ve taught many topics, to many people, in many different places around the world.

Even though I wouldn’t wish a teacher like that on anybody else, I’m actually, legitimately grateful Mr. Math Teacher had his misguided way of thinking.

✨ I will NEVER assume that because someone hasn’t learned something it means they can’t.

✨ I’m hyper-aware of power dynamics, especially in teacher-student relationships.

✨ I’m careful about the labels I apply to others, and notice which ones other try to apply to me.

By not actually teaching me, he taught me so much.

Grade 8 Algebra Changed Me.

Grade 8 Algebra changed me.

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