We must not be defined by our deficits

     I am one of those people that ‘used’ to hate math. Who hears the phrase so often abused in classrooms “You’ll use this every day—Math is everywhere”. And I laugh—or used to.

   Until I realized, they’re right.

   This took years—twelve in fact, before this concept would really sink in.

    I was diagnosed in the second grade with a pretty severe form of a learning disability known in layman’s terms as ‘dyscalculia’. This affects everything from my spatial reasoning skills, simple mathematics, telling time, estimating distances, to the proper usages of grammar.
    And I said I don’t use math every day. Oh how I lied to myself when I said those words. I let my ‘disability’ consume me. Define me, they (parents,teachers, coaches, mentors) said “Ya’ know Kaitlyn, you’re bad at math”.

   And I believed them—every time. How could I not? My peers were racing ahead of me they had no problem multiplying multi-digit numbers and here I was struggling with 7 X 4. I knew I didn’t get it, so I agreed. I internalized that I was ‘bad’ at math—and this feeling like I was never going to get better. So why should I try?
     I’ve not quite come full circle but I’m training to become an educator, I am in college and I am appalled at myself  first and foremost, and in some ways I am also frustrated by my previous teachers, for not having any one, that helped me break that ‘mold’. A mold I built for myself that I’m ‘bad’ at this so why should I care? Why should I try?

    Why should I try?! What an awful way look at my own education. I can now at least after much reflection, answer myself.

 You should try because;

1.      1.  It’s embarrassing to not be able to read an analog clock quickly.

2.      2. You go out of your way to avoid any situation involving math—you let fear dominate you.

3.     3.  You are going to stand in front of a classroom teaching a subject you LOVE, but other students may be struggling with …the same way you struggled with math. And you HAVE to reach them.

4.      4. You should try because, math can be fun. And I do use it every day.

I use it when I:

1.      Read a clock

2.      Estimate how long it takes to get to work, with multiple variables including—traffic, whether or not I’ll need to unbury my car from snow, and sleeping in as much as I really want to.

3.      Want to sing a song—and need to read music.

4.      Whenever I write anything—language is math, grammar is just another equation.

5.      Need to bake cookies for the family Christmas party, and realize I need to double the recipe.

6.      When at the daycare I measure out exactly how much medicine to give a crying baby, or how much formula they’ve consumed.

7.      My actual real life finances. My income versus my spending, how am I saving money?

    Why should I try? I know that I should try for every issue I’ve listed above. I also know that the saying ‘easier said, than done’ is much more applicable.

       To those out there that struggle with something—truly struggle. You know what I’m talking about, that gnawing fear when your presented with something you’re ‘bad’ at, know you have to figure it out because either an entire class is waiting on your response, or a test is coming up and you need to prove that this material matters. And it’s a war every time, you have to re-hash old issues, you have to wade through old mistakes before you can even pick up your pencil. You are filled in that moment, with doubt, with fear, with anxiety, with anger—and this hopelessness, and more than that—in my case at least, this apathy. That is an awful lot of baggage a student is bringing behind them, when you give what I call ‘oral pop-quizzes’. Where you randomly, or not so randomly call on students to give answers to seemingly ‘easy’ questions. As an educator we need to be aware that those ‘pop-quizzes’ may not be all that they’re cracked up to be.

Back to the matter at hand—that student is always wondering ‘why should I care?’ When their least favorite subject comes up, we need to notice this.

    Because ‘why should I care?” is a valid question when we apply it to perhaps, more specialized problems and answers. Adiabatic’s for example is an important formula and equation for Geo-scientists to know. Your average person, off the street? Not so much.

And yet I went through 12 years of education believing that because, I was bad at math I shouldn’t even try. It wasn’t going to help me in life, to learn it so -why should I bother?

     To me this says more about the current way we look at education. We focus so much on not only student’s deficits, but also these out of context situations that simply aren’t relatable.

Great educators transcend that, they make it apparent why  “Fences” or “Things Fall Apart” or “Antigone” are still great literary pieces and devices, why and where the quadratic equation is actually relevant in your daily lives outside of school, in addition to doing your own taxes or balancing a checkbook.

Relevancy is an issue I have with education—a lot of the time I feel it’s done poorly. Students don’t buy ‘corny’ real world examples. They do, I think acknowledge REAL ‘real life’ situations. Such as why “Things Fall Apart”, is still a relevant novel even though it’s set during colonial period Africa—because it’s a story of the loss of culture, of language, of the familiar. It is the downfall of a father; it has these elements that can reach everyone.  

   That’s what good education is. Knowledge, Relevancy and Applicability.

     That’s why it took me 12 years to really understand why I was bad at math. I am bad at math not because of my disability—but despite of it. I am bad at math because I didn’t push myself hard enough. That is a harder pill to swallow.

    I can’t blame my ‘dyscalculia’ when I know deep down the real root was my inability to try—because I didn’t see the relevancy behind it.

     I can say now that at least I understand how I can do better, how I can push myself to not let my predisposition weigh me down. I can also say that I’ve learned something invaluable about what will make me a better educator.

      Knowing that students will struggle—for lots of reasons. One of the main ones is relevancy, after 12 years of struggle—and with a lifetime ahead of me. I hope I don’t forget that lesson.

      My inability is the greatest tool at my disposal my perseverance what will make me successful. Our weakest points must also be where we draw strength.

        I can only pray, that God will give me the ability to share that with others, to share with students that I understand ‘struggle (s)’ but we cannot let ourselves be defined by them. We are more than our greatest weaknesses.