Of the three narratives, Adam has the least experience in the classroom. However, Adam is unique in that he has not only taught at Regence his entire career (including student teaching) but he was also a student at Regence. As a teacher, Adam has an exceptional ability to connect with students, especially students who have
struggled with other teachers. This connection is due in part to Adam’s experiences as a Hmong student but also his understanding and commitment to combating broader social injustices. His own racialized history in school helps him empathize and support students who are going through similar experiences.
Adam’s narrative begins with a situation in his classroom that has been building for quite some time but climaxes with two students causing a large disruption in the middle of a lesson. In an effort to reestablish a better classroom culture, Adam takes a risk and uses a restorative justice method to repair some of the damage. As a collective, the students discuss what has happened and what needs to happen in order to move forward. We then transition to Adam’s historical context both as a student and within the Hmong community. Here we begin to see how Adam’s cultural experiences in the community were largely disconnected from the school. As a result, Adam tries
He finally finds a teacher he connects with and begins to shift his perspective on education.
Adam’s perspective continues to change as he enters a social justice focused non- traditional teaching program that helps him name the oppression that he and other
students experience. As Adam transitions into his professional role he begins to see these oppressive discourses affect both him as a staff member of color and the students of color he teaches. This oppression manifests as a culture of white privilege (Lee, 2005) within the school that paints opposition or difference as a deficit. Finally, we return to the classroom impasse to see what comes of Adam’s efforts to democratize student voice and restore a positive, classroom culture.
Drowned
I heard a distinctive sound I never thought I would hear as a mathematics teacher; it was the unmistakable sound of a water balloon popping: Sploosh! Followed by the cascade of water off of a desk and onto the floor. Chaos. Students are screaming, laughing, and pointing at the culprits. They instinctively back up, forming a circle around the incident. Profanity becomes interlaced with every exclamation. “Holy shit, did you see that?” “Oh my god, that was fucking crazy!” I stand at the front of the room at a loss. What is going on? Why is this happening in my classroom? I quickly move to the area and see water all over the floor, spreading like my lack of control over this situation. To add insult to injury it was not a water balloon, in the traditional sense, but a condom filled with water. For the students, this detail elevates the apparent humor of the situation. The condom lays splayed on the floor, broken and slowly drifting on the expanding lake. Two students are at the center of this oblong circle, covered in
water. They are laughing unabashedly; the carefree, uninhibited laugh of students who know they are going to be in trouble but also realize they have just pulled off a
momentous distraction, one that will live on for days in the conversations and conglomerations of students. My thoughts are initially troubled. I am angry. I am frustrated. I want to lash out at all of my students for what has happened.
I finally get the offenders out of the classroom while somehow managing to also call security to collect the students. Why did you do that? I ask, barely able to contain my anger. The humor has now vanished from the pair and one glances down the hallway while the other looks down at his feet. “Come on Mr. Tsa, we were only playing”
responds the student who was trying to find solace in his shoes. I will write a referral for this and call your parents I respond without much enthusiasm. “Whatever, Mr. Tsa.” says the student staring down the hallway, already wedded to his fate. In the moment I can’t think of much more to say (later on I will have a lot of I could have said this moments) so I leave the pair in the hallway and turn back to salvage what is left of the period. The two students will be taken down to our dean but I am not confident much will be done beyond a walk down to the office. My past experiences point to a lack of consistency and
meaningful consequences when it comes to behavior issues so I fully expect the students to either return to my classroom immediately or show up tomorrow without any thought or conversation about repairing the damage that was done. I understand this conversation is a two way street, we need to talk about what happened, why it happened, and how we can all make things better. However, there are no structures to facilitate this
conversation. It is left to the teacher to take care of what needs to be done but I’m
schedule and how am I supposed to begin this process without much experience or
support. Ultimately, the students get what they want; they leave class and are absolved of any responsibility in their actions. It also means that the two students will miss whatever instruction remains and I have to work more to help them recover lost time.
My mind is racing as I take a quick second to compose myself before entering the classroom. Beyond the helpless feeling surrounding the immediate situation, I feel a deeper tension thinking about education’s current approach to discipline. I know the biased statistics in our district public schools for students of color being suspended; over the last seven years Black students are three to four times more likely to be suspended in comparison to their white counterparts and Latin@ students are twice as likely to be suspended. This is also compounded when you take into account that white students represent almost 60% of the student population in our district. I know that our district is not an outlier and that this demonstrable, national trend lays the foundation for our burgeoning prison population and limits students’ future opportunities. But in this dramatic moment what am I supposed to do as a teacher? I realize my pedagogical limitations as a first year teacher and recognize that students’ disconnection from mathematics might contribute to behavior issues. But I also want my students to realize the power that comes with understanding and persevering in mathematics. It is a
different, often additive, way to see the world, perhaps even a way to look at the statistics about uneven suspensions and reveal the injustices within our communities. I want this so badly it hurts my soul, but I’m struggling to find a way to connect with this class personally and academically.
The water continues to spread and so do the comments “Haha. Those guys are off the chain!” “Can you believe that shit?” I am not completely absolved from what has happened. This moment is the culmination of several smaller incidents that have driven the classroom to a crisis point. Naturally, I am a quiet person. I suppose I would be considered an introvert, so I prefer not to yell during class but at this moment I don't know what else to do. I raise my voice above the continued roar of the students, I need everyone’s attention up here! Now! After several attempts I manage to regain a modicum of control over the class, but I am unsure where to go at this point. I try to lay into the class about respect and responsibility In my classroom if I can’t teach and you can’t learn then there is a problem. I think there is a lot of disrespect going on right now and we aren’t doing what needs to be done. It’s exhausting for me to hold students attention through anger and it feels inauthentic. But, because of the circumstances I force the issue and try to make the students feel bad for what happened but in my heart I realize that I am just as culpable.
I attribute my immediate reaction towards the class partially due to my
inexperience. As mentioned, this is my first year teaching and I am still trying to figure out how to establish a positive classroom culture and set appropriate boundaries. That being said, I’ve given a lot of thought towards how I envision a community of learners in a mathematics classroom and for me it starts with student connections. This was
something I didn’t find often in high school so I make sure that my first priority as a teacher is to connect with students, building strong relationships so students feel comfortable and know that someone believes in them. I know many teachers feel they can connect with students through the content but in my experience you first need to
connect at a personal level before you even think about content. If you can’t establish these connections then things don’t go anywhere. You don’t understand them, they don’t understand you, and you can’t progress beyond that precious moment of establishing and cultivating a strong relationship. After you establish these relationships then everything clicks. You start to have fun as a teacher and the students begin to see value in the content. There is mutual trust; they trust you will help them learn and be successful, and you trust that they will engage in the process. It makes the tough days bearable and the good days exceptional. I don’t have a connection with this class. There is a disconnect somewhere and it has contorted into a constant battle. I’m not allowing the students to be who they are - by tightening down on behavior and constantly re-correcting - and they are not allowing me to be who I am - angry, frustrated, and unhappy. As a result, I need to do something drastic to shift our relationship and build a connection.
Because of this moment I turn inward for solutions. I’m Hmong and proud of my culture and traditions. I also have a large immediate and extended family as well as a strong connection with the Hmong community in my city. Our culture lives on through our traditional values and customs; and our traditions live on through a strong connection with each other. So connections are an essential part of my life. As I pack up for the day and think back on what happened I realize that I am unsettled by this disconnection more than I am by the brazen acts of a few rowdy boys. I can handle high schoolers
occasionally not following classroom norms; I speak with them quietly about their actions, ask them to take a break in the hall, let them vent their frustrations during class, or call home to involve family. But these proactive conversations and practices are dependent on mutual respect, understanding, and trust. What I can’t handle is a
classroom that feels no obligation to take care of each other, allow each other to be who they are, and support each other as we work to understand a difficult subject. So my next steps have to address this complex issue with compassion and courage.
I continue to think about this situation and my approach to teaching throughout the night, sketching out what I might do over the coming days. This obsession is partially due to my thoughtful and intentional approach to teaching. I need to have my lessons, units, and assessments carefully planned because my strength is not improvisation. I’m not sure if this is due to my introversion, but I approach the craft of teaching as a
meticulous, organized transaction. I thoughtfully plan the structure of my lesson, develop the materials needed to support the lesson, and anticipate the outcomes of the lesson. I have observed many teachers who can survive and thrive on performance, but for me a classroom is a sanctuary. Granted, I play music while kids work and I encourage students to work together but I don’t want to be the center of attention. I want attention to be distributed. So here is the bittersweet tension I find myself in; I need to facilitate an emotionally charged discussion without taking over. I need to carefully craft a lesson that allows for all voices to be heard, including mine, and ends with a purposive shift in our actions as community members of this class. And, finally, I need to cultivate a deeper connection with my students. But I’m a mathematics teacher, how do I do this?
After giving this situation a lot of thought I realize that I need to stop teaching content and we need to reflect on the current state of our classroom culture. I need to connect with my students outside of a stressful academic context. Really, I need to provide space and time for students to express their feelings without Pythagoras or
Hipparchus clouding the issue. So, in an effort to get to the bottom of my own feelings towards the situation I write a letter to my students. Again, not being overly charismatic I feel the need to plan what I say, to carefully frame the direction and tone of the
conversation. After starting the letter I realize that the intention of this letter is not to scorn or place blame, but instead it is an offering of fallibility and love. I admit that things are not going according to plan but also that I don’t always have the right plan so I need my students’ help. The letter becomes an extension of my philosophy on teaching mathematics: that mathematics education is not dictated solely by it’s content; that as teachers we must insert ways to humanize an abstract, technical subject; that we must employ creative methods to connect an often disconnected experience; that we must wholly encourage and love our students if they are to believe that they can do
mathematics; and that we must collectively set up systems and routines that allow for everyone to engage with the process of education.
It takes several attempts to craft a letter I feel confident with, but the following is what I settle on:
Everyday I try to create a lesson that will be interesting and engaging for you students. I know that mathematics may not be easy or may not be fun for everyone, but I believe having good mathematical skills and tools is important to have, because it will help us understand ourselves and the world we live in better. However, for the last two weeks, teaching has been a struggle for me. I believe it has also been a struggle for you in this classroom.
The reason for this struggle is that we, as a class, are not on the same page. We struggle to get off on a good start when class begins, and we struggle as a class to stay focused. Instead of teaching, I'm constantly asking students to put their cellphones away. When I'm talking to the whole class, others are talking at the same time. When I ask for whole class attention, it's taking too long to get it and therefore, we do not get done with the class work.
Lastly, we are not clear what is expected of us in the classroom. I want to be a good teacher to all my students so that we can enjoy and understand mathematics in my classroom. Therefore, I want to help us understand what is not working in the classroom so we can fix it and what is working so that we can continue it.
Furthermore, I want to know what I am doing that is not helping you learn and what I can do to help you learn. Lastly, I want to know what you can do to help yourself and us as a class do better. I really hope that we, as a class, can change and make our time together more meaningful.
The next day students file into class in their typical raucous ways. A warm up is on the overhead projector but students aren’t paying attention, instead they are huddled together talking, wandering, and yelling across the room. A few of the boys begin to jokingly push each other and I have to quickly walk over and remind them of our classroom norms. The antiquated bell jolts my senses. I’m nervous as the students finally head to their seats. I’m sure they can hear my voice waver as I plead Let’s all take
a seat please and get our notebooks open. I have them work on a quick warm up reflecting about how they are going in the class. I notice a few compliant students
dutifully writing but generally the students are ignoring my warmup. I should pause here and lay out my plan for the next two days. My intention is to start with a short internal reflection, offer my own personal thoughts, and then slowly expand to a whole class discussion about what is working and what needs to improve in our class. We will, in theory, end with a list of expectations or norms that will help guide our class over the rest of the month.
At a deeper level I am trying to restore a classroom culture of collaboration, risk taking, hard work, trust, and learning. This idea of restoration has become a buzzword recently in education; ‘restorative justice’ is the term many educational reformers are throwing around as the answer for our defective punishment system. The numbers are overwhelmingly bad for our students of color and at a more personal level I see the statistics everyday in our school. Teachers who purportedly fight for Regence students immediately switch into deficit language when talking about the black or brown students in their classrooms. This deficit language is transcribed into deficit action when teachers overwhelmingly discipline students of color (more often than not males of color) for minor behavioral infractions. As an example, it’s not unusual for our black and brown boys to receive referrals for ‘talking too loudly.’ I suppose I would also become
disaffected from school if the volume of my voice is regulated. Ironically, the behavior issues are probably a result of the teacher in question, which brings us back to my
story. My drive to restore the classroom culture is because I realize I’m at fault for some, if not most, of what has transpired. The students are not absolved from responsibility, but
I need to participate - openly - in the process of repairing what has been damaged. Part of this process involves not only my written letter but also the facilitation of a restorative process and holding everyone accountable after we are finished.
The beginning is notably awkward. I talk carefully about my intentions and then quickly transition to my letter. I am not sure what I expected but the reaction is
powerful. As I begin to read my letter some of the students continue to act out but then, as I read on unperturbed, there is a notable shift in the classroom. I clearly articulate each word, pausing for emphasis at the end of each sentence. Students begin to lean in a bit