This week in class, we worked together on using a google spreadsheet to find the amount of money in Fry’s account when he started with $0.93 and left the account for 1000 years. Spreadsheets take time to learn to use, but they give you a lot of power to do repetitive tasks. You can do non-mathematical things with them as well. For instance here’s a blog post about things a literature professor does with a spreadsheet, and even a short music video created with a spreadsheet. and even a music video in spreadsheets (no, I have no idea how they did this!)
We also worked with calculating interest by converting a percent to a decimal, and then multiplying by the principal (the balance in the account). This video covers this procedure (I like the guy who did this video a lot, and he has lots of videos about math in the real world). We did this in a google spreadsheet in class (feel free to open this up and tinker with it, or go to File->Make a Copy and create a copy for yourself). I have a challenge out to everyone to try to create (1) a spreadsheet that will show your balance over time for a savings plan in which you deposit $50 a month and early no interest, and (2) a spreadsheet of the same situation, but with in interest rate of 1% per year. Feel free to post a link to your spreadsheet with a solution, or describing where you are getting stuck (you’ll need to go to File->Share to make the spreadsheet publicly viewable).
Difficulty and Curiosity
What I really want to examine this week is difficulty. I taught two classes on Monday, this Liberation Math class and another class on Math, Art, and Design. I felt bad after each class, and that’s usually a good signal to me that something is happening that I should be paying attention to. In Math, Art, and Design, I felt like students weren’t interested in or connected with what we were doing together in class. In Liberation Math, I felt like the class was a bit frozen, and like I was floating out there alone. At the end of the day, I worried about the classes and my teaching, wondering if it was something that I did or if there was something going on with the students, and spinning out lots of possible scenarios. This morning, I finally remembered remembered that feeling bad and worrying doesn’t actually help anything, and that the proper response to things going badly is actually curiosity.
As I have blogged a bit about before, I think a lot of hiding and dishonesty goes on in a classroom setting. Teachers often hide their true motivations from their students, and they hide the emotions they have while they are teaching. Part of this seems entirely as it should be — it’s not my students’ responsibility to take care of me emotionally, and although I try to be open about my struggles as a teacher, I am careful to deal with my difficult emotions on my own before I bring them out into the light for examination. On the other hand, I think we teachers do our students a disservice when we pretend that we are free of emotion, especially since those emotions have a way of leaking out even if we think we are clamping down on them. Students also pretend a lot of different things in order to get by in a class — they may pretend to like a class, to like a teacher, to understand things that they don’t get, to have studied more than they did, or to have done work that they didn’t do.
The trouble with all this pretending is that we misunderstand each other. We teachers are not all that good at reading students. As Andy Hargreaves says in “The Emotional Practice of Teaching” (p. 839), “Teachers frequently misconstrue their students’ exuberance for hostility, bored compliance for studious commitment, embarrassment for stubbornness and silent respect for sullen resistance. This misunderstandings seriously interfere with teachers’ ability to help their students learn.” I recently ran across another paper by Hargreaves (here) that may draw out this issue even more usefully. Plenty of potential also exists for students to misread teachers, and when I look at students that are struggling in a class, I often feel like I see them writhing under my steely glare, when really I just mean to give them a look of reassurance.
This is why I say the proper response to feeling bad about a classroom experience is to get curious. I have such a limited view of the classroom and there so so much going on at any one time that I actually have no idea what is actually happening for the students. It may be I was having a bad day and the difficulties were all in my mind. It might be there was something I was doing that was decreasing the safety and connection for the students, who responded by protecting themselves. It could be that the students are feeling their own collection of difficult emotions about their performance in and connection to the class. It could be that I engaged students in a difficult task that decreased their sense of safety in the class. It could simply be that it is almost spring break and everyone is simply tired and overwhelmed.
I have a few students in mind that I want to personally connect with, but I thought I’d also throw it out to all of you. What do you think it was? Some of you were in one of these classes and might have an idea of it felt on the ground. Others of you have been students in many other classes and have felt the rise and fall in the mood of a class. As a student, what have you noticed that either increases or decreases your sense of connection to a class, your classmates, or a teacher? What shuts you down? What increases your safety? What makes it more likely that you’ll talk in the class?
P.S. I’ve cooked up a few tasks for this week for those of you participating in the Liberation Math class. Anyone can check them out and play along, particularly if you are interested in a discussion of the positives and negatives of group work.
- Anger and Shame in my Teaching, a sort of anti-liberation-math (liberationmath.org)
- What if math class were a skillshare? (liberationmath.org)