I may not be the smartest in the class, but I am generally ambitious and hard-working. For a long time, though, math and science classes were an exception. I was content to get by with lower grades in them. That mindset changed thanks to my sophomore year physics teacher, Mr. Stevens (not his real name).
Taking physics seemed like some type of punishment. I brought a poor attitude with me to class each day, just wanting it to be over.
I ended up failing the first marking period. I convinced myself that it wasnāt a big deal and continued with my sour outlook throughout the second marking period. I guessed that my teacher could see I didnāt care and would be happy to keep failing me. But one day at the end of the second marking period, something unusual happened.
When the bell rang, I hopped out of my desk and started gathering my things. Just then, Mr. Stevens called my name.
I looked up. He said, āIād like to speak to you once youāre ready.ā I nodded. Great! He was going to give me a boring lecture on how I should take advantage of the free education I had been given or start asking why I didnāt care about school. Blah, blah. He didnāt know me; he just knew my performance in this one class, so I wouldnāt let his aggression affect me. What could he do? Threaten to call my parents? So with my head up high I walked over to his desk, ready for anything he was going to throw at me.
Right away, he gave me a welcoming smile and asked how my day was going. Surprised at his friendly manner, I told him I was actually a little stressed about a geometry exam, but other than that, I was all right. I assumed it was small talk before he landed the big speech, but what he had to say next surprised me even more.
āI just wanted to let you know that I know youāre not doing as well as you could be in your class. Iām positive you are capable of way more, Neha. I picked up your transcript from the guidance counselorās office today and I see you have good grades in your other classes. Physics is a little difficult for you, huh?ā
I couldnāt answer. I was trying to digest the fact that he actually went and reviewed my transcript. I wondered if it could be that he was actually curious about me as an individual.
But part of me was just defiant. He said I was struggling in āmyā classāHello? Physics was his class. Not mine. I was just forced to take it.
He continued, āI want to invite you to tutoring. I tutor Tuesdays and Thursdays and plenty of students come in. It does get crowded sometimes, so I canāt always guarantee Iāll be able to help you on the particular topic youāre struggling with. But Iāll try.ā
I tried to read his face, wondering what the catch was. The tutoring sessions werenāt news to me, but I never expected him to reach out and invite me. Most teachers only pay attention to the students who look like they care. My geometry teacher always told us, āIām not even going to bother with kids who do not want to help themselves.ā This teacher obviously had a different approach.
āYouth Communication writer Neha Basnet, from āHow I Conquered Physics, with Unexpected Helpā
My First Lesson in Listening to Students
In the fall of 1992, I was a 24-year-old doctoral student in New York City. Like many of my classmates, I struggled to balance the demands of my courses with the need to support myself. Rather than look for work as an adjunct professor or a researcher, I took a job with a nonprofit organization helping to run an after-school program at a junior high school in East Harlem. Since I was pursuing my degree in developmental psychology, I figured, āWhat better way to learn about development than by working directly with developing youth?ā
I had grown up in the northeast section of the Bronx, so it wasn't as though I was raised in a wealthy suburb of the city. But East Harlem seemed like a completely different world to me. We were in the midst of the crack and heroin epidemic of the early 1990s that hit East Harlem extremely hard. Unfortunately, the neighborhood became synonymous to some people with drugs and crime.
When I told friends about my new job, I could see the concern on their faces. āAre you sure you want to work there?ā they asked. āYou know that's not a safe neighborhood, right? It's like a war zone over there.ā
As I prepared for my first day of work, I tried to mentally prepare for the āwar zoneā that would soon be my new place of work. Since I was working with an after-school program, I arrived right before the students were dismissed. Before I even entered the school building, I noticed several adults with orange buckets. They were walking around the schoolyard picking up things. I was curious, so I moved a bit closer and asked what they were doing. They said that they were removing needles before the students could be dismissed into the yard.
I was stunned. I tried not to react, but I felt defeated even before I met my students. If that's what these children had to deal with every day, I thought, how could I possibly relate to them? As I walked to what would become my classroom, I felt sad for the students. While they were entering the room, I was thinking about their schoolyard and the challenges they faced each day just to get to school.
With a combination of anxiety mixed with ignorance and arrogance, I introduced myself, sat down with my students and asked them what they thought about their school and their neighborhood. I thought I knew how they would answer and expected their answers to lead perfectly into the motivational speech that I already rehearsed in my head. I was going to tell them the one about if they did well in school, they could go to a good college, get a job, āescapeā their neighborhood, and have a better life.
But thatās not how the conversation went. One student answered by saying that her neighborhood was loud. Almost without fully listening to the rest of her sentence, I was already hearing her say that being loud was bad and that she didn't like where she lived. As I began to feel sorry for her and what she had to endure, she continued, āBut it's not a bad thing. They play music from my country and it reminds me of home. It helps me to sleep at night. I really love it here.ā
āI love it here too,ā another student shared. āThis is my home. It's my favorite place in the city.ā
I have no idea what my face revealed at the time, but inside I was stunned. How could a place that people described as a āwar zoneā bring such comfort to my students? How could they love a place that I thought they would want to escape from?
I often think about that time because it reminds me of how my beliefs and expectations about students can influence how I teach them, what I think they're capable of, and how much I engage them intellectually. Most importantly, it reminds me of the value of getting to know my students.
At the same time I was beginning my work in East Harlem, the staff of Youth Communication was refining an award-winning journalism program in which public high school students learn to write powerful personal essays about the challenges in their lives. The teen writers commit to a rigorous process in which they write more than a dozen drafts under the tutelage of full-time professional editors before their stories get published. The writers come from a wide range of backgrounds, including youth living in foster care or homeless shelters. And the writers attend a wide range of schools, from the most struggling neighborhood schools to elite public and private schools. All of the student examples in this book are from their stories.
The stories show aspects of their lives unseen by all but their most trusted teachers. But like my East Harlem students, when the teens write about tough circumstances they don't dwell on the negative. Rather, as you will see, they focus on how they manage those challenges and even overcome them. Sometimes, of course, what we mistakenly see as a sad challenge, the writers see as an important part of who they are. Like the occasional conversations when students really open up in our classrooms, the stories are a valuable window into their lives. They show the stressors that we may not be aware of; they show what is valuable and important to them; and they show how teens use resourcefulness, creativity, and resilience to overcome challenges and achieve their goals. In short, they offer the kind of information that would help all teachers be more effective, but that too few of us have access to.
One goal of this book ...
