I remember what I was in 4th grade. I was
artistic—I loved my art classes and spent hours drawing sketches of horses and ballerinas.
I loved dancing too and looked forward to ballet class every week. I excelled
at both areas and felt confident in them. I also remember math though. I
remember learning long division, multiplication and fractions and crying over
my homework. The math pages would have holes worn in them from the number of
times my thick pink eraser ran over the scribbled numbers. I remember my little
brother would help me, yet I could never grasp the concepts. Math came so easy
to him, yet to me it was worse than attempting to learn Chinese.
Even to this day I struggle with math. I am only good at it
simply because I have no other choice. I spend hours under strict practice,
constantly feeling exasperated. I have learned to accept this side of myself
though, the side that is unable to translate math equations. Yes, I can easily
write pages of words and ramble for hours—but math has never been that way for
me. I used to feel so stupid, so behind everyone else, so afraid, and so confused.
But am I stupid? No. I am just different—different is not bad. It is just
different. The negative connotations associated with my childhood math
experience resonate with me even to this day and are a constant reminder of
what I do not want to see in my students. What is truly important is that we as
teachers are there for our students. We have the technology and skills to help
our students overcome roadblocks and bumps. So often I lose sight of what teaching
really means. I am
here to help my students—to create an impact and help them excel and radiate success.
We all have our strengths
and weaknesses. My job is to use the strengths and the weaknesses—to tackle the
rough, hidden areas and to make them beautiful.
