The math department offers lunchtime tutoring in my classroom every day. Members of the Math Honor Society, as well as a few teachers, come and help students study. Wednesday looked like any other normal tutoring day; the rowdy clique of honor society students came in and circled up, eating their lunch. One or two timid math students approached and nervously asked the teacher on duty for help. I sat off to the side and worked, munching on my lunch. Then, one of the honor society students walked in with a girl I hadn’t seen before. “Guys, this is Rosa.* She’s a new student here; she’s from Honduras and doesn’t speak much English. I’m showing her around and she wanted to come eat with me.” Rosa seemed shy and hesitant, as many do when immersed in a completely foreign culture. The math clique asked her a few questions in broken Spanish but for the most part let her be. I speak mediocre Spanish and briefly considered jumping in, but hey, I guess I still find it hard to break into the cool kids’ clique at lunch.
Later that afternoon I got an email forward from fellow blogger Cati, who is also placed at my school. Rosa is a recent immigrant and, beyond speaking very little English, has had little in the way of math education. She can add and subtract but has not been taught multiplication, division, fractions, basic shapes and their properties, etc. The Spanish department head had sent this email to a number of teachers in the school asking them to brainstorm ways they could collaboratively help Rosa succeed.
I was appalled that a high school student could be so critically behind. Add that to the fact that she does not speak the dominant language in the school, and the number of people who are able to help her is limited. My heart naturally bends toward students who are faced with big obstacles, and I feel acutely for Rosa. I wish I had more skills to offer help to her. I did what I could; I emailed my math advisor to ask about Spanish recourses, but beyond that I don’t know how much help I will be able to offer.
Rosa’s situation caused me to reflect. Her case is the first one that has really made me feel that gut-wrenching “Ah! This is terrible! What can I do?” feeling that teachers get when they desperately want their students to succeed but are at a loss as to how. Certainly I care about all my students and hope they all will achieve something in my class, but it is those special students who are faced with so many more challenges than their peers which makes me feel like a teacher. Rosa was my first case. I’m sure I will come across many more such students in my career. They will each have their own unique heart-wrenching story and seemingly insurmountable challenges. I only hope I am able to help as many as I can.
*Name has been changed.
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