The Impact of a Bad Teacher

When I was in elementary school, my mother fought hard for me to be in advanced classes.  Generally all children were supposed to be learning the same things, but I wasn’t learning anything and I was bored.  Luckily I had some great teachers who taught me from books that were a grade ahead.  I was advanced in many subjects, but especially mathematics.

In sixth grade, my first year of middle school, I started taking Pre-Algebra with the 7th graders.  I was teased relentlessly, beat up, had my things stolen and vandalised, and finally my mother had to have the vice-principal “randomly” standing outside my classes when they would end and keep an eye on me until I reached my next classroom.  But it didn’t matter to me, because I loved math.  Was I a giant nerd?  Of course!  Did it hurt when they called me a giant nerd?  Well, in sixth grade it did, but really, what isn’t  upsetting when you are in sixth grade?  Luckily, I was not alone.  My best friend since third grade, Wolfram Jackamathman, was also in all of these classes with me.  In fact, there started off with five of us in the advanced math, but by the end of the story there will just be the two of us.

In seventh grade I took Algebra with the 8th graders, and in eight grade we went over to the high school across the parking lot to take Geometry with the 9th graders.  This was a little scary, and a little awesome, but again, I just loved math.  It was a foregone conclusion that I would be doing something with math when I grew up.  Maybe engineering, maybe computers, but there wasn’t really another option.  At home, when I had free time, I would do extra math problems, logic puzzles, and anything else number-related that I could get my hands on.  I was in Mathcounts and the Math League.  I would sit after school with my friends, who were all math nerds, and solve equations for fun.  It was my life.

In Vermont, and other places I am assuming, Johns Hopkins University ran a program that let middle school students take the SATs, I guess as practice.  Maybe to scope out early geniuses for nefarious purposes.  I don’t know exactly why they did it, but Wolfram and I were the top scorers, not in our school, but in the state.  We scored above what the average college bound high schooler was scoring.  As a prize, we were each given a free college course.  Now, perhaps you can see where this is going, but Wolfram and I decided to use our free courses to get even further ahead.  The summer after eighth grade, we took Algebra II at the University of Vermont.  It was definitely a weird experience.  It was a summer class, filled with older adults, a few college students, and two 8th graders.

Having done all of this, Wolfram and I were now ready to take Pre-Calculus with the 11th graders as we entered the ninth grade.  This is where I encountered a teacher who I will remember for as long as I live.  I generally don’t use real names in my blog, but here I will use her real name: Mrs. O’Satan.  I suppose technically that was not her real name, but it was what we called her around my house.  I think my mother may have made up the nickname, so you know it was appropriate.

Mrs. O’Satan did not think that 9th graders should be in with the 11th graders in her class, no matter how smart they were, and she told us so, repeatedly.  And here we ran into another problem, which was that in high school Algebra II, they included trigonometry, but in the summer course we took, they did not.  She saw this as clear evidence that we should not be in her class, but under pressure from the school, she gave us a try, explaining to us on the first day that we had to catch up on our own as far as trig went.  Now here I will freely admit something.  As good as I was at math, Wolfram was always better.  At math competitions, he always came in first, and I would come in second, or sometimes third.  I looked over trigonometry, I swear I did, but we had a test the first week.  I got a 58.  It was the first thing I had ever failed in my life.  I think Wolfram got a C or B- or something.

I was told by Mrs. O’Satan that this was proof that I did not belong in her class, and she was moving me back down to Algebra II.  I begged her to let me stay.  I promised not to fail any more tests.  She told me that I would have to come after school every week and take special tests that she was making up just for me, and if I ever failed even one of them, I was out of her class.  And she was mean about it.  She clearly didn’t want me in that class, and she spoke to me in harsh and nasty tones.  She also told me that if I ever told my mother or the guidance counselors about these secret tests, I would be kicked out of her class.  Did I mention that this woman also ran the Math League after school?

I took her tests, and I got A’s and B’s on all of them, and I could see the disgust in her eyes every time she finished grading them.  “Another one next week,” she would say.  So of course I immediately called the guidance counselors and my mother and told them everything.  She was told that she could not give me any more of those tests, and that I would be staying in that class, which she was less than thrilled about it.  If Mrs. O’Satan hated me before, you wouldn’t believe how she treated me after.

I quit the Math League after school and joined the drama department.  I focused all my energies on music and the stage.  I finished her class with I think a B- overall, the lowest grade I had ever gotten, and took Calculus in tenth grade.  Then, because the school had a policy where they would pay for continued education if you completed their courses early, the summer after tenth grade, Wolfram and I took Calculus II at UVM.  We both got A’s, and it was the last math course I ever took.  I took it so I wouldn’t have to take any math in college.  I hated math.

Wolfram continued to take math at UVM in high school, moving on to Linear Algebra, and whatever comes after that (I have no idea, because I am an opera singer).  I starred in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” and drifted apart from Wolfram and my other math friends.  So I am not an engineer.  If this is your first time reading this blog, you may be surprised to find out that I am an opera singer instead.  I don’t know if I should thank Mrs. O’Satan or not, but she certainly made an impact in the lives of her students.  At least this one anyway.