I don’t really like math. I teach one math class already. I like to teach the soft subjects: social science, literature, history.  I manage to make Economics a very social science as well.  But, Economics is as fuzzy as it gets for me this time around the sun.

Last year, I taught a section of spiritual formation that I called Reflections. It was a writing based contemplative class. We wrote everyday about beautiful, if sometimes painful, things.  The child I love sat front row, seat one, so she could easily read over my shoulder and I her’s. She had begged me for the class, for me to make it happen. I have rarely seen anyone so bloom, any young person be so brave and honest and tender toward others as she was in that class. It was a sweet, sweet time. I have so missed having her in class this year.

The “opportunity” to teach another section of math came my way this week. Part of me cringed. Did I say that I don’t like math? ( I can do it and teach it. I just don’t like it.)  I started to protest, downplay my abilities,  to ask another to step forward…But, I didn’t. Something in me just ssshed all that. Wait.

The math teachers and the admin were behind this reshuffling, one that I understand and agree will better serve students. I didn’t know much until today about the instructional expectations. Only, that I had been asked to help temporarily, at least until we could better determine the best route in regard to this set of students.

Today, I went to go pick-up the students from their old classroom and escort them to mine. I was told that I would have 5 boys, and maybe one more student, too. I saw the boys before me, nice kids, if a  bit math challenged. The final student walked up behind me. I felt a familiar presence on my shoulder.

What’s a little more math?


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