To be an effective educator, I believe I need to know who I’m teaching. It doesn’t matter how well I know what I’m teaching – if I don’t know who my students are, I’m not going to break through.

On the first day of math class, I always start with the same series of questions. I ask, “Who here loves math? Like, if you couldn’t take math, you would pass out?” In a class of 34, I might get one or two hands. Then I ask, “How many of you feel alright about math? Not in love with it, but you don’t stress when you see it on your schedule?” That gets a few hands. And then I ask, “How many of you hate math? Nobody in your family is a math person, and you wish math would just disappear?”

That’s when the rest of the hands go up – sometimes even a few legs. And then we talk. I hear about their math stories. Maybe they didn’t have a math teacher last year, and their class was staffed by rolling subs. Or they felt afraid to ask questions. It’s rarely about the math – it’s about what has been missing for them.

Then, I share my own story. My own experience as a math student in K-12 was horrible. I tell them what teachers used to say to me. I tell them how guidance counselors made me feel. And they look at me like, “But you made it.” I say, “Absolutely. You can love something that used to have you in a chokehold. Let’s see what we can do with this.”

Getting to know the students first

When I look back, I remember loving school when I was very young – in kindergarten, first grade and second grade – but that spark dimmed later in elementary school. I think many of my students experience the same thing. I believe I could have succeeded in K-12 if I’d had a teacher who cared more about seeking to understand me, and I strive to be that teacher for my own students.

So I start every year getting to know my students and where they’re coming from. We read the poem “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon. We do some playful, collaborative math activities. I vary my approach depending on who is in front of me, but it’s always rooted in the need to learn who they are and share who I am.

At the end of the first week, I invite them to write a response to the question, “What do you feel like the teacher needs to know about you?” Some answers I get are:

 “I really love math.” 

“I’m good at math, but I don’t like to answer out loud.”

“I don’t like when people yell at me or talk loud around me because people are fighting at home.”

“I’m always hungry when I come to school, but I get here too late for breakfast.”

“I can’t read. Please don’t make me read out loud.”

The question is loaded, and I always get answers that make me sad. I get answers that make me happy. I get answers that make me want to do more. But every answer helps me know my students better. So that’s probably, to me, the turning point. If they answer the question honestly, I already have them.

Building bridges with families

I know that I need to connect with families to truly know and support students, too. I send a newsletter home to families to introduce myself and try to make it clear that I’m about more than just math – I care who their students are as people. I find that many of my students’ caregivers come from challenging math experiences of their own, and they feel intimidated by me as the math teacher. It makes me laugh to feel put on that pedestal, because of how much I struggled in K-12, and I love to tell people about my own struggles to break down that barrier.

I give them a questionnaire and say, “Tell me about your kids. What are they really good at? What do they like to be called? How do they like to be corrected? What do you do at home? How do you feel about math? What were your experiences like in school?” I also tell them, ”If your kid is having a bad day, drop me an email, send me a text, tell me something so that I know how to meet them when they walk through my door.” And, amazingly, every year I get emails as soon as I walk in on the first day: “Hey, Junior had a really rough morning.” Making that effort pays off.

Sending a consistent message of belief

When I spend this time getting to know my students and families, I open up space to cultivate their self-belief. Because if I know them and I believe they can do the math – that feels real to them.

It’s so important for us to believe in every kid. No matter their circumstances – we have to believe that they can do the hard math. And then show them, every day, that we’re serious. Expect excellence. Expect effort. Expect growth.

We can communicate a critical message to every student: I see you, I know you and I know you can do this.