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Ms. J and Ms R: Both Ms. J and Ms R two of our older learners. They are probably in their late fifties, and for whatever reason have found themselves back behind the desk. What circumstances brought them here, I don't know. But twice a week, and sometimes three for an extra tutoring session, they're right there in the desk. They study the packet of algebra, reading it hard, staring at it blankly. "Molly," they'll say, "show me how to do this. I don't understand. I'll sit down with the two of them, and we'll work through the problem together. We go over it sometimes two, sometimes three times. Sometimes the questions on their face increase; sometimes they sit stony-faced. "Go on to the next problem," I'll tell them, "and I'll be back to check on your work." When I come back a few minutes later, their are pencil and erasure marks all over the page. "Now, I just don't understand," Ms. R will say. "Am I multiplying that 5 or am I subtracting? I'm multiplying. No, I'm subtracting. No....I know that's the answer, but I don't know how I know it."
Ms. L is early to class every day. She's always dressed nice in slacks and a top. She has beautiful glasses, a stylish haircut, and her toes and nails are painted in a charming red. "Ooooh," she'll say, and tap her pencil. "Oooooh, I need help." I sit down, and ask her to tell me the first step. She does. Then the next step. So far so good. By the time we've finished the problem, Ms. L has told me how to solve the problem, and I've done nothing but say "What's the next step, Ms L? Don't give up!" She doesn't need my help, she needs a cheerleader. When her answer is incorrect, she fidgets and purses her lips.
Ms. K isn't always in class. To catch her up on the days she missed, we had a one-on-one tutoring session. I repeated a scripted explanation about percents. It just didn't work. Ms. K had worked all day. Her eyes were tired, her body slumped. She was barely awake.
"Do you have kids?" I asked. "Yeah," she said, "I have four." Her two gold teeth shined with her big smile."How old are they?" "Two of 'em in high school, an eight year old, and a six year old. That's why I'm here. My kids can do this stuff, but I gotta be able to help them," her voice tired, but earnest. "Then let's look at it this way. You want to know what grade your boy got on his homework. If he got 25 out of 27 right, how can we find the answer?" We move on to problems out of the book when I run out of examples. I walk away for a moment. When I come back, Ms. K. stares at me in a daze. "I forgot what I'm doing," she says. "I just can't remember."I can't sigh, but I want to when we start over at the beginning. When our time is up, we're both exhausted. She wishes she could understand how to find the percent, and I wish I could find another way to explain percents. "Just keep practicing," is all I can think to say."I will, Molly, I will. I'm gonna get this. I'm gonna take this home and practice, and I'm gonna get that." She flashes her beautiful gold smile at me.
"These math people are crazy," another girl says. "Why they talk like that? Two times a number is seven less than twelve. That just crazy." Are we all crazy for trying? It seems like it at times because there we are again: students hoping to solve an impossible equation and tutor trying to solve an impossible question. But then algebra works its magic, and for one short problem we're speaking the same math language. |