The Troublemaker: chapter 21 of my new book "Unbalanced: Memoir of an Immigrant Math Teacher"

(Sorry I have not been posting new chapters regularly. I would like to say the reason was that I was traveling, but it’s also because the publication process just took much longer than I thought, and I have published all the chapters I intended to publish.

However, I should continue to publish until it is officially available on Amazon, which hopefully is quite soon. This part is about my interactions with different students. I hope you enjoy reading it. To read the book from the start, see HERE.

Below is the sunset I took during my current trip to Italy on the island of Ischia.)

CHAPTER 21 THE TROUBLEMAKER

When I started as a new teacher, I resolved to learn my students' names as quickly as possible. It proved to be no easy task, as remembering faces and English names was particularly challenging for me. During the first week, I frequently asked students for their names while I still had some leeway. I printed their pictures, wrote their names on the back, and reviewed them before each class. At the start of the semester, I spent considerable time reading notes from other teachers, trying to understand each student, and contemplating how to connect with them.

Before setting eyes on Peter, I already knew he was special. When I was reviewing the student files, Peter had the greatest number of teacher notes, and almost all were negative. All the teachers wrote about how disruptive he was in classes and how his family pushed back on the school’s feedback, believing in their own child despite what the school reported.

Peter was not tall, with a crew cut and a cunning face. He looked the part of a troublemaker, wearing a defiant—or rather, I-don’t-care—expression most of the time. I volunteered as the assistant coach for the tennis team, where I saw Peter often butting heads with the head coach, David. He struggled to follow the coach’s instructions promptly and precisely, asked too many questions, and sometimes talked back or made jokes at inappropriate moments. Once, he let out a deliberately loud fart while coach David was addressing the group.

At some point, coach David decided that Peter was a bad apple. But I was not so sure, as Peter reminded me of my son Matt’s struggles growing up. Matt was impulsive and goofy for a while, and I often had to deal with teachers complaining about his disruptiveness. By then, he had grown out of it and was praised often for his good behavior and active class engagement.

One time, after losing a point in a game, Peter made a remark to his teammate that sounded like a putdown. It passed quickly, but I noticed he followed up with earnest instructions and support for the teammate, without a hint of condescension. He was a little behind in developing the executive function that controls behavior, and he probably enjoyed the reputation of a bad boy. I started mentioning my observations to David and sometimes argued in his favor.

In my classroom, Peter was initially a little defiant and, yes, sometimes disruptive. He often couldn’t sit still and needed to stand up and move around in the middle of the class. I had seen that mentioned in the student notes and was prepared. On those occasions, I did allow him to move but instructed him not to bother others, which he obeyed most of the time.

Peter’s math learning was problematic. He was among the few students who seemed to have forgotten all the math learned in previous years. In addition, he was extraordinarily disorganized and forgetful. I lost count of how many times he scrambled in vain, searching for the class material. Fortunately, I always printed extra copies. It was the end of the semester when I finally persuaded him to get a large organizer to put all the class materials in.

Peter needed to learn things more times than the typical student. He would often completely forget the material he seemed to have mastered on the previous day and had to start over again. His math base was not solid enough to attach the new knowledge to, so everything took longer for him. I was always there explaining things to him in different ways, never mind how often he forgot, and never made him feel dumb or inferior to other students, or to me.

He noticed my extra patience in the classroom and on the tennis court and started answering questions proactively in my class. Sometimes, the answers were off, but he kept trying, and I praised him on the occasions when he offered unique insights. I kept encouraging him, as I could see him trying in his own way to learn and take ownership of his math learning. After many repetitions, some learnings started to stick with him.

At some point, Peter started coming to the math office to seek help and said he wanted to do well in the class. There were times when he still did poorly, but near the end of the semester, he scored higher than two-thirds of the class in an important assessment. I was encouraged, and he was excited by it. I don’t think he had gotten such a math achievement in years.

Heading into the final exam, he told me he wanted to achieve an overall A. It would be his first A in a high school math course, and the previous assessment made this goal within reach. He worked hard but didn’t do well in the final exam. He didn’t come to argue for more points like other students, but I agonized for a long time about what grade to give him. I wanted to send an encouraging signal by giving him the high score he had worked hard toward and nearly achieved. There were no hard requirements; in theory, I could override what the score suggested, but I wanted to be consistent, objective, and fair to all students.

I sent his parents an email describing Peter’s progress inside and outside the classroom, his change in learning attitude and momentum in learning achievements, and why I couldn’t give him the grade I really wanted to give. His parents were very appreciative and felt that someone at school was finally understanding their son and giving him the right help, replying:

“I can’t tell you how much the email impressed me...Mentoring, encouraging, taking time to explain why one needs to learn etc. is much more valuable than people think. Kids like Peter really respond well to kindness from those who take time to understand them and really want to help them… Thank you.”

There were changes in Peter's behavior as well. He tried to control his impulsiveness sometimes and be more considerate of the whole class. When the class got too noisy, he would often turn to his restless classmates and loudly shush them to ensure my voice could be heard. Once, when he felt one student had insulted me, he turn red-faced and challenged the offender to a fistfight. In a way, he was trying to be my protector in the jungle of unruly students. Even though I didn’t need his help, it was heartwarming to see him stand up for me in this way.

After I was no longer his teacher, whenever we passed each other in the hallway, Peter would always call out to me—loudly and respectfully—sometimes adding an exaggerated Roman-style salute. Onlookers were often amazed; such behavior was unusual for any student, let alone a troublemaker like him. Mostly we just exchanged greetings, but occasionally, we would stop for a quick conversation. During one advisory discussion on social justice, he led a mini-revolt and drove the young advisor to the verge of tears. When he bragged to me about it, I asked him to apologize —and he did, promptly.

Peter’s learning momentum continued into the following semester, and he happily told me that he got a full A from a tough math teacher without any extra help. His advisor told me he was no longer on the list of prominent troublemakers.