The Math Instructor

The end of summer is at hand. There are still some warm days ahead here in town, but those will give way to the usual six months of winter in no time. The end of summer also means the beginning of yet another semester at High Desert Community College where I teach math as an adjunct (aka part-time) instructor. I have been teaching here for eight years, seven of which were during the stretch where I was finishing up a 50 year career as a software developer.

The approaching semester creates the usual ambivalence in my mind. I look forward to meeting the new students and introducing them to college-level mathematics, but I also dread some of the attitudes and behavior. Math, for many of them, is something that has always been an obstacle, something they are required to take and something in which they have zero interest (sort of like the new car loans these days).

I search my conscience about my reasons for wanting to teach. It certainly isn't the pittance I get paid. It is probably the challenge of making math interesting or at least a little more palatable to those who have little or no choice in the matter. But there are days where I really question my motivation. As a part-timer, I get no benefits and about 20% of the salary that a tenured faculty member gets. I also get to teach mostly the remedial classes that the full-timers avoid.

I think back on my career. My original goal was to teach, but I was diverted to programming computers for the extra money needed to raise a family of four. Now, the four are grown and the marriage dissolved; I look back on the intervening years as a prolonged detour. Software development is involve trying to keep up with the latest greatest technology and it feels like I have finally jumped off the squirrel wheel -- the memories are quickly fading.

The first day of fall semester has arrived. I step into the classroom and take a quick glance at the first class of students. They are the usual mix of teens right out of high school, thirty-somethings (many of whom I guess from past experience are unemployed) and older students who are trying to make a career change.

This is my first of three classes today and my energy level is still high. I know by the end of the last class I will be drained. It feels like putting on three Broadway shows in a row, two of which are repeats since I am teaching two sections of elementary algebra, in addition to the one section of Pre-calculus.

The expressions on the faces of the students remind me of patients in the waiting room of a dental office. Most are bored, some resent having to be here and others are just passive, accepting the fact that this is something they have to get through to satisfy the requirements of their major.

I call the roll and enter the names into a seating chart so I can call students by name, which is something they seem to appreciate for the most part.

One student in the blind spot of the class (the seat that is in the last row and on my far right) appears agitated. He is fidgeting in his seat and has a look of anger on his face. I look down at the seating chart and see that his name is Jesse Langer. I ask him, "Jesse, is there a problem?"

"Yes," he says, "it's too hot and I can't see the board from here."

"You are right about the heat. Let's see if there is something we can do about it. In the meantime, why not try a different seat, maybe one a little closer to the front of the room?"

"No, this is where I always sit," he says.

"Well, you should know that since I am right-handed, it will be hard for me not to block your view while I am writing on the board."

"I don't care," he says. "I'm not moving. I paid for this class and I can sit wherever I like." His face is flushed and his eyes have a strange intensity that is a little disturbing.

This is not going well, I think. I turn my attention to the rest of the class and introduce myself before handing out copies of the syllabus.

Elementary Algebra is categorized as "developmental", which is a euphemism for remedial, and is intended for students who have not taken a college-level math course in the past two years or who have placed poorly on the placement exam. It is not hard to understand the frustration of most of the students, since the real course they need is Pre-calculus. However, because they did not do well enough on the placement exam to go immediately into that course, which is also one which they can transfer to a four year college or university. Since I am teaching at a community college, the most likely destination is the nearby university.

So, here I am once again teaching to a passive, sometimes hostile, but mostly bored audience. Explaining the syllabus is an important part of launching the course, since this is where I explain the ground rules for successfully completing the course.. Strangely, most students resist reading the syllabus, so I am compelled to walk them through it.

As I explain the how grades are determined for the class, I mention that a C or better is required to take Intermediate Algebra, the next class in the remedial sequence. Suddenly Jesse explodes, "You are just a roadblock, keeping us from getting an education!"

I take a deep breath and control the impulse to suggest he find another section of Elementary Algebra. "Well, I can see where you might think that, Jesse." I say. "Let me ask why you chose to take the course?"

Jesse replies, "I didn't choose. I was forced into this course by Accuplacer."

"So you really intended to take another math course instead?", I ask innocently.

"Yes, my major requires Pre-calculus for some reason, but I got placed in this course instead."

"I may be wrong," I say, "but I understand Accuplacer checks your knowledge of math and places you in a course best suited to your math skills." Of course, I am fully aware of Accuplacer's strengths and short-comings. If anything, because of its use of multiple choice questions, it places students in at a higher level than it should.

"Well, it really messed up," Jesse says.

"Jesse, I really have a lot to go over in class today. Can we continue our discussion at the end of the period?"

"Yeah, right," he says, but his face is still flushed and he seems very agitated. Jesse appears to be in his mid-thirties. I'm guessing that he has recently lost his job and is attempting to upgrade his educational background in order to get a new job. This class must seem like a huge obstacle, and I must seem like the gatekeeper. It makes me wonder why so many majors have a math requirement. I know college is supposed to give one a well-rounded education, but does a history major really need to have skills?

I move on to discuss the ground rules regarding class etiquette, which precludes the use of cell phones and texting. I am expecting a lot of eye-rolling and heavy sighs, and I am not disappointed. I'm convinced that the current generation is addicted to the use of electronic devices, and doing without them for even five minutes -- let alone a 75-minute class period -- is just too much to bear. I suspect I will get some withdrawals from the class because of my unyielding and (to them) draconian policy. I'm OK with withdrawals or transfers to other classes. I've learned that if I am not strict about this that the class quickly turns into one long texting session and very little math is learned.

As I am wrapping up the discussion of the syllabus, a hand pops up. I see from my seating chart that it is Maria Gonzales with the question.

"Yes, Maria?"

"Will we have homework in this class?"

I have just finished going over homework, the part it plays in the overall grade and when it will be due, but I understand that a major issue in teaching any subject in Nevada is the language difference. I don't speak any languages except English and math, which has its own specialized and somewhat antiquated vocabulary, so I ask the class, "Can anyone explain what the syllabus says about homework to Maria?" Two hands shoot up. They belong to Julio Sanchez and Jesus Rameriz. I tell Maria, "Julio or Jesus will explain the rules about homework to you at the end of the class period."

This is one of the reasons why I really encourage the "study buddy" system, and why I always make time for starting the homework assignments in class. I strongly believe that learning math is based on the student being engaged with the subject, and completing homework assignments is the best way to do this.

During all this Jesse has remained silent, but increasingly agitated. He twirls his pen and squirms in his seat as if he can't wait to leave. However, only 20 minutes have gone by and there is more to cover.

I move on to handing out the schedule for the semester. The schedule shows the date for each class meeting along with the chapter and section in the book that will be covered during each session.

"When will we know our homework assignments?" asks Bonnie. Bonnie is a woman in her late twenties from Viet Nam. She sits right in the middle of the front row with her book open. I see the book already has sections highlighted and yellow sticky notes on several pages. I know right away that she will be one of the better students in the class.

"I will give out the assignments at the end of each class lecture,." I say.

"What if we are not here?" asks Francisco.

"If you are not here, you will lose credit for attendance. Remember, attendance is part of your grade. If you do miss a class, give me a call and I can send you the assignment, but if you have three absences, I will issue an administrative withdrawal for you. Also, if you are absent, you should fax your completed assignment to the math office before the beginning of the next class when it is due. Otherwise, you will lose credit for both the attendance and the homework. At the end of the semester you may need those points to be able to earn a C so you can move on."

The games have begun. Students always try to see what they can get away with in terms of attending classes, turning in the homework assignments on time and re-scheduling exams. I peg Francisco as being one who will try to get by with the barest minimum of effort. I hope to be proven wrong, but he is already showing the signs that I have come to recognize. Why can't they put half this effort towards their studies? They will need all they can get from this class in order to pass the next one.

The next item on the agenda is to have the students take a pre-test that I have written. This test is one designed to see if they really have the knowledge base for the course. I have developed it over several semesters and it is a very good predictor of how the students will fare in the course. I will grade the test and have a one-on-one discussion with those who have scored low, trying to let them know that they are probably in the wrong class and to give them a chance to switch to another class before it is too late in the semester. This rarely works, but I want to realistically set their expectations.

After handing out the pre-test, I settle back for the rest of the period to observe the students and to answer any questions they may have. Several are able to finish the pre-test during the period; the remainder take the test home to complete. This test does not affect their grade, but does give me an idea of how much work is ahead for various students if they hope to successfully complete the course and move on to the next.

I notice that Jesse is shaking his head and muttering under his breath. Finally, he brings the test to me and asks in a belligerent manner, "Are we supposed to know this stuff?" I glance at his test and notice a lot of crossed out answers to the first few questions, which are the easiest ones, having to do with basic arithmetic operations such as adding and subtracting fractions.

"Well, yes." I say. "This is the fundamental knowledge that you should be bringing to the course. Are you having difficulty with it?"

"I don't understand these questions, and I think that Accuplacer put me in the wrong class." he says forcefully.

"It's good to recognize this now." I tell him. You still have time to take the Pre-algebra class this semester so that you will be ready for this class next semester."

"I don't have time for all these remedial classes. I need to get my AA degree so I can get a job. I will get help from the tutoring center, so I can stay in this class," he says.

The red flags go up for me. If he stays in the class, he will need a lot of my time in a futile effort to shore up his background, while trying to learn new material.

"Jesse," I tell him "this will be like trying to build the second floor to a multi-story building when the first floor is missing. You really need to switch to the Pre-algebra class."

"Well, I'm not going to switch. You will see; I will be OK in this class. I'm not leaving and I'm not giving up."

Two days have passed and I have graded all the pre-tests. I will return them to the class today. I have posted answers to the test on Google docs for those who are interested in seeing the answers.

The results are not encouraging. While a few did very well on the test, most did not. The average score is only 53%. There are a few explanations for this. One is that Accuplacer, being a multiple choice exam allows those whose skill are rusty to guess their way to a seat in the class, but really need a refresher course before starting. Another is that the pre-req screening module has still not been installed and is allowing students without the necessary background to enter the class.

Out of curiosity, I check to see what score Jesse Langer received. It is only 24%. This is a real warning sign since he has said he was going to continue in the class regardless. He will waste a whole semester in frustration and not be able to move on to the next course in the remedial sequence.

I drive to the class with some trepidation. In the past, some students have vented their frustration about the low test scores when I give them back. But it is a beautiful fall day and hard not to notice. The trees are full of color and the river is glistening in the sun as I drive to the campus.

When I get to the campus, it is hard to find a parking space. I end up parking in the dirt lot at the bottom of the hill and trudge up to the classroom dragging my roll-along full of exams, course notes and books. I I call the roll-along my portable office since I store everything I need in it. The "portable office" started off in life being a scrapbook organizer. I found it at a local hobby store after seeing another part-timer with one. Sally, the teacher who had one, is tiny and can actually use the roll-along as a chair while waiting for the classroom to become available. Unfortunately, I am not small by any stretch of the imagination, so using it as chair is out of the question. Moreover, loaded as it is, it is very heavy to drag up the hill. can't help thinking that full-timers get reserved parking spots.

I arrive at the classroom out of breath and sweaty from the hike.. The site for the campus could not have been chosen more poorly. It is on the crest of a very steep hill that bakes in the summer and is very cold and windy in the winter. Part-time instructors have to compete with students for parking, and at the beginning of the semester.

After taking roll and giving time for the students to get settled, I pass out the pre-tests. The students study their scores and begin looking over the ones they missed.

"I can't believe I got such a bad grade," said Eric. "I really used to know all this stuff."

"Perhaps you are a little rusty," I said. "If that's the case, then you may do okay in the class. However, if what you saw on the test is completely unfamiliar, then maybe you aren't ready for the class at this time. Now is a good time to find this out, while you can still re-register in a different class."

"This is bullshit," Jesse erupted. "I am never going to be able to get through all this math to get my degree. You guys are just trying to keep us down."

I take a second to respond. Of course, the easy answer would be to say that I am just here to teach and that I don't decide the curricula and the pre-reqs. Actually, I feel some sympathy for what Jesse is saying. I have already checked ASSIST, the student information system, to see what the goals are for each student and recall that Jesse is working toward a degree in history.

"Jesse, no one is trying to hold you back," I say. "In fact, the school is being tasked to improve its completion rate. However, math is one of the required subjects for your major. This class is needed to help build up your background in math so you can reach your goal. Remember, this is just a pre-test and will not affect your grade. It was given so that you can see what you are expected to know at the start of the course."

Jesse frowns and says, "I think Accuplacer put me in the wrong class and now it is too late to change. The other class is full. I'm not going to drop this class because the settlement for the accident depends on me finishing all the classes I signed up for."

"That does sound like a problem, Jesse," I say. "Can we talk about it after class? I really do need to get on with the lesson for today."

"Ok," he grumbles, but I can tell he is still upset.

At the end of the class I see Jesse heading for the door. "Jesse," I say. "Can you wait a few minutes to finish our discussion?"

"I have to get to the other campus. I only have about a minute," he says.

"Well, I just was wondering how many classes you are taking."

"Five," he says.

I don't say anything else, but raise my eyebrows.

"That was the deal," he says. He shows me his hand with a finger missing. "The money they will give me depends on me staying in school and completing all five classes. I've got to go now."

He turns abruptly and leaves the room.

I finish collecting my notes, books and calculator and head out to my car. On my way home, the situation with Jesse is on my mind. From his pre-test score I can see that he does not have the fundamentals for this class. Staying in the class while trying to handle four other classes is certain to be difficult if not impossible. I try to think of a way to finesse the situation, but come up empty. I sigh to myself. This is going to be a difficult semester.

Four weeks later, I am handing back the results of the first semester exam. As expected, Jesse's score is very low. He missed more than half the questions.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch his reaction as he looks over the graded exam. His face turns bright red and he gets up and leaves the room, leaving his books and notes behind. I guess that he is going to the restroom, but after a couple of minutes I glance out the window overlooking the parking lot and see him walking. I watch as he reaches a truck, fishes under the seat and removes an object. I cannot tell what it is, but as he stalks back across the parking lot, it flashes through my mind that he has a gun.

I tell the students, "Today we have a drill. Please leave the room in an orderly way and proceed to Room 315 on the third floor."

As the students file out, I look out the window and see that Jesse is about half-way across the parking lot. I pick up the wall-mounted phone and dial the extension for security. I quickly explain the situation and they say they will dispatch an officer immediately, but it will take about ten minutes to reach the room.

When Jesse enters the room, he looks around and says, "Where is everybody?"

"I dismissed class early today, Jesse," I say, which is not a complete lie, since they are all upstairs.

"Maybe this would be a good time to go over the exam if you have the time." I am stalling to allow time for security to arrive.

"I don't give a crap about the exam or about this class," he says. "This whole deal is bullshit in order for HDCC to make more money."

About this time security arrives. Jesse looks up and seems startled. "What the --? Is this why no one else is here?"

The security guard says, "Mr. Langer, would you please stand up with your hands in plain view?"

The guard is between Jesse and the door. He is also between me and the door, so I just stand there like a dummy.

Jesse stands and holds out his hands. The guard walks over and cuffs Jesse, who is really furious. After the guard searches him and finds only a mechanical pencil and some loose change, he says "Looks like a false alarm, Mr. Charles."

Jesse says, "You thought I had a gun, didn't you? Well, we'll see what you think after I sue you."

"I'm sorry, Jesse," I say. "I had no other choice."

"Right!," he says and stomps away after the guard removes the cuffs.

The guard says, "You probably should get a lawyer."

"Thanks, but HDCC probably has some legal resource I can use," I say.

"Don't count on it. You are a part-timer, right?"

"Does it matter?" I ask.

"Yeah, we had a similar incident two years ago. The instructor had to get his own legal defense. He was a part-timer, too."

It is now three months later. I have been served a subpoena and have hired a lawyer. The guard was right; part-timers have no standing with the college except to fulfill their teaching contracts.

Now my day in court has arrived. After hearing all the testimony, the judge says, "I believe Mr. Charles acted in what he considered were the best interests of his students. I am hereby dismissing all charges."

I am relieved, but still faced with paying the $20,000 in legal fees.

The next day I receive a letter from the president of HDCC stating that my services are no longer required and that my teaching contract for next semester will not be renewed.

So much for following my dream. It makes me wonder, though, about how the Race to the Top or any other nationwide initiative is going to be accomplished without people to teach math.