I remember when I was super little, my older brother tried to teach me how to play Monopoly. I rolled a six and a five and I started counting the dots one by one. He got impatient with my slow counting and snarled, “eleven!” My mom who was ironing in the same room told him to be patient. She said, “”She’s three.” I might have been only three, but the fact that I remember that scene so vividly really is telling about my life. I always looked up to my older brother, but at the same time was intimidated by his quick temper. I learned how to be a pleaser early and how to count fast.
Monopoly has never been my favorite, but I grew up playing it with my brothers. I taught my children how to play before they could read, and over the years have connected Monopoly to knowing patterns, probability, strategic thinking, finance, etc. Monopoly gave me number sense.
We have been doing state testing the last couple of weeks at school. This week was math. It was painful. For me. For my students. One of the girls put her head down on the desk after the test the first day and started sobbing. She hasn’t been back to school since. Another girl looked up at me during the test, and said, “I don’t know how to do this.” All I could say was, “Do your best.” I heard one of the boys say to his friends, “That math test was making me low key mad.” I can’t say I am surprised. Most of my class was not ready for the test.
Isn’t that my job? To teach math, reading, and all that other shit kids learn in school? The simple answer is yes. These kids are fifth graders. In theory, they should have learned some skills to bring to the table. And some do have skills, but the high majority of my class does not have the skills a fifth grader should have. I don’t know why. Lots of people want to blame it on the pandemic. And I don’t think the pandemic did them any favors, but that is probably too easy of an answer. Some people want to blame family, or trauma, or poverty. In reality, there isn’t one thing that probably points to THE REASON. I am not even sure knowing why is important. The reality is that many of the students lack number sense. Here are some examples. I saw a kid physically counting the dots on a die like I did when I was three playing Monopoly for the first time. I stood over a girl for four minutes waiting for her to puzzle out 12-12. I wanted to pull my hair out. Another boy brought a ruler over and said,”How do you find the inches on this thing?” My absolute favorite moment this year was when my class couldn’t tell me how many months in a year there are. One kid was sure there were thirteen. So we recited the months as a class and I ticked them off on my fingers. Twelve. The boy said, “You must have missed one.” It is easy to laugh and roll my eyes. But it is my job to teach these kids and help them LEARN.
Here is the reality. I am supposed to be teaching math out of a book and be on the same page as every other fifth grade math class in the entire district. I have a limited amount of copies that I am allowed to make a month. I also have to teach reading, writing, and science. Everything is hard and a third or more of the kids have checked out of learning long before I came into the picture. I am not even addressing the truancy, tardiness, trauma, violence, and dysfunction. Making a class like this turn around is stuff that movies are made of and this isn’t Hollywood. I am no miracle worker and the fact that I got through till April without walking out the door maybe is the real movie. I love these kids, even if they drive me legit crazy on the daily. I am not sure that I have filled in many gaps, but I am trying.
The teachers in my building had a meeting this week to discuss a book on teaching number sense. I started laughing. I had to put my head down and get some self control. It’s April folks. A book on number sense isn’t the ticket to solving this problem. You want me to teach kids number sense? Then quit tying my hands. Don’t buy me a book, buy me a classroom set of Monopoly. Give me another body in the room. Help me really help these kids.
On Thursday, after the week of math testing was over, I played Blookit with the kids. It’s an inane game to recognize pictures and gain points for knowing items in pop culture. Your points can be stolen by the others playing the game. The kids were protective of me and wouldn’t “hack” me to steal my points. They were adorable. And they were helping each other and excited and having fun. No anger. No tears. No frustration.
I am worried about them for next year. Many of them don’t have the academic skills they need, but maybe I shouldn’t be so concerned. These kids are survivors. They will get through the next thing, because that’s what they do. I believe in them and they can do more than they know. They have taught me this year that most of us are doing the very best that we can. And maybe that is enough.
Just Another Damn Thing to be Strong About 