To Get Kids’ Attention, Sometimes You Fast-Forward

A simple fact of life is that sometimes you have to learn basic, not-so-exciting stuff before you can move on to the really cool stuff. It’s certainly true in math class. I have to get my students used to handling variables and exponents (basics of algebra) before I can teach them cool stuff like revolving functions around an axis and finding the volume of the solid formed.

What? I totally thought that was the coolest thing ever when I was in calculus.

But just because students aren’t ready to dive into something yet doesn’t mean I can’t give them a sneak preview of things to come.

My classes recently did some activities with graphing calculators. Mostly stuff that looked like this:

Hi, we’re linear equations, and we’re a little boring.

While they were thrilled at using the calculators instead of graphing by hand, it wasn’t all that exciting. In several classes, I put something like this on the projector while they were all working on their assignment:

Flowers! Using math! So pretty!

Trust me, even the most macho teenage boys think it’s mind-blowing that you can make flowers using equations.

They’re not going to learn rose curves this year. It’s either next year or the year after (I need to check) that they’ll cover polar functions. But kids who really wanted to know, I gave them a quick overview of how the polar graphing system works.

It got their attention, and got them asking, “What else can we do with graphs?”

And when they’re asking questions, I’m happy.

What’s Up With the Name of the Blog?

Admit it—some of you have been wondering about “crossing the helix” for a while.

The name originally goes back to the series of novels I was working on when I started the blog. It ended up being a trilogy—the first three novels I ever wrote. If you read those stories (and a few of you have), the name makes sense.

However, that’s not the story I’m debuting with. I have hope that someday I’ll get them out there (after some re-tinkering—see Wednesday’s post). At this moment, though, it doesn’t appear to have much to do with anything.

I’ve kept the name anyway. Here’s why.

For one thing, sentimental value. Those first three novels got me on this road to being an author. I went from “Hey, I wonder if I can write a book” with the first one, to “You know, I think I really have a shot at this” by the last one.

More importantly, I think it can still have some meaning, if very abstractly. It’s all about a journey (“crossing”).

A helix is generally a spiral, and more specifically a three-dimensional one. Think of the thread of a screw. To travel on such a path, you would typically walk along it like a spiral staircase. You’re moving upward, but not in the most direct way. It’s a little meandering, but it’ll get you there.

And once in a while, you make a leap. You “cross the helix” to a higher point by a shorter route. I made some leaps this year. I signed with an agent. She sold my book.

There’s still a lot of “helix” left to travel.

So, for now, the blog name will stay.

Starting From Scratch, Kind Of (The Mega-Rewrite)

A lot of publishing is about waiting. We send out queries and wait. Get requests for partials or fulls and wait. Our agent submits to editors and we wait. We revise, send to our editor, and wait.

Best thing to do with the waiting is work on something else. One thing I’ve been chipping away at (on an off-and-on basis) is a near-complete rewrite of my very first manuscript.

(Some of you remember Fingerprints, right?)

Can someone coin a term for the writerly version of beer-goggles? I’ve revised and re-revised this thing so many times I’ve lost count. It got better each time, and I don’t think it was ever terrible.

I still believe in the characters 100%. The world, too. Even the plot, largely.

But the execution … ugh. Very “what was I thinking?” in places.

I think this is okay. It’s not beating up on myself. It’s acknowledging the skills I’ve gained and developed over the past three years. If I weren’t capable of writing better now, I’d be worried.

So, the solution?

A blank document. A different opening scene. The same general story, but with new ideas for added tension and conflict. And yes, here and there, some words that are worth keeping.

This is kind of intimidating in some ways. I really hope I can get it up to snuff, so there are lingering worries that maybe it still won’t cut it. Hopefully I can just let those doubts motivate me to silence them through sheer awesomeness.

It’s also tricky because the original is so cemented in my mind. I want to change enough without changing too much, and there’s no telling whether my internal gauge is calibrated right on that count.

Thank goodness for critique partners.

(Yes, Mindy, this means that someday you’ll have to read the darn thing AGAIN.)

Have any of you ever done a from-scratch rewrite? Any advice for making it work?

Just Because They’re Behind Doesn’t Mean You Have to Keep Them There

Math teachers in my department have had a significant challenge this year. As part of implementing the new core standards, nearly all students at each grade level have been placed in the same math class. (The main exceptions are the accelerated classes, which account for 20-30 students in each grade, 7th-9th.)

This means some kids have had to learn material at a condensed rate, while others have had to endure a ton of review to start with.

We’re nearly halfway through the year, and I can’t count how many times I’ve heard that it doesn’t work, that we need to get the “low” kids back in a class of their own. For instance, the 9th graders who took Pre-Algebra last year and are now in class with mostly kids who already passed Algebra 1.

I understand where they’re coming from. Truly. I see students in my class who haven’t quite grasped solving for X yet (simple linear equations), and we’re doing exponential functions and recursive sequences now. I have plenty of students bombing tests and quizzes.

But part of me says that the way we’ve been doing things only perpetuates the problem. These kids are behind grade level in math, and putting them in a slower or repeat math class will only put them further behind.

Then again, does this way just set them up for failure? Some seem to think so.

Something happened the other day that makes me think that may not be true. One of those “shoved into the fast lane” kids came in after school. He has the supplemental “math lab” period that many of these kids do, to give them more time and support to learn concepts, yet still hadn’t been doing too well.

He said, “Miss Lewis, can you help me with this Chapter 5 and 6 stuff? I need to retake that test, but I just don’t get it.”

(He also apologized, asked if it wasn’t too much trouble, etc. I’m thinking, “Dude, what do you think I’m here for?”)

We started at the beginning of Chapter 5 (inequalities) and I wrote a few examples on the whiteboard. We talked about the process, and I got him working through them himself. (He mentioned it makes sense when I explain it, but then it crumbles when he tries on his own.) Moved through that and on to Chapter 6 (systems of equations).

He picked it up quick.

He said, “Now it seems so easy.”

I’ve seen this before. I had students at the deaf school who couldn’t reliably solve simple equations when they were all the way in Algebra 2. I kept pushing them forward, kept supporting and reviewing and reinforcing. When I taught them Calculus, they still had to work at it, but they had some serious math skills.

We could’ve said, “They can’t solve basic equations. They need to repeat this course.” We chose not to.

When we don’t make falling (or staying) behind an option, and when we give the right support, they can catch up. But there’s a key.

That kid came in after school to work on math instead of going to the basketball game. The kids need to be willing to put in the effort.

The best we can do is try to convince them that the effort will be worth it. Saying they’re destined for “low” math classes doesn’t seem to do that job.

What do you think?

A Teen Type Missing in YA Lit (Thank Goodness!)

Young adult novels (contemporary and otherwise) manage to fit a lot of different types of teenagers. Artsy types. Bookish types. Sporty types. Loner types. Popular types. Aggressive types. Passive types. Sometimes characters who are more than one at the same time.

I always appreciate the variety. I like finding novels with characters similar to students who don’t seem to be represented so much in pop culture. A particular type stood out to me this week, though, and I realized I don’t recall ever reading a character that quite matched up with it.

The whiners.

And please, my fellow YA authors, don’t feel any need to change that.

I’m not talking about teens who get whiny now and then. That happens, both in fiction and in life. Part and parcel of being not-quite-kid, not-quite-adult. No, I’m talking about teens who do nothing. But. Complain.

All. Day. Long.

I can barely take it for an hour at a time with those students. If I had to read it in a book, that book would get put down and never picked up again.

And from a math teacher standpoint, let me just say that complaining that it’s hard and you don’t get it before I’ve even started explaining anything isn’t conducive to learning. It doesn’t endear the student to their more open-minded classmates, either.

If you know someone like this in real life, please find a way to rehabilitate them. When you find a successful method for doing so, drop me a line.

I could use the help.

Thoughts on the Common Core Standards: English Edition

There’s been a lot of chatter about the new Common Core Standards. We have a set for English and a set for mathematics. As a math teacher who writes novels, I have thoughts about both, but I’ll focus on the English standards for this post.

The big attention-getter for these new standards is that it calls for more reading of informational, non-fiction texts, going from 50% of reading material in elementary school and gradually increasing to 70% in high school.

That’s where the chatter comes in. Many are upset about the units on classic literature, beloved favorites, and poetry getting cut from the curriculum, as noted in articles here and here.

I have thoughts on both sides of this. I’ve seen personally that students are definitely lacking in their ability to read text for factual information, to reason through technical material. I agree that more focus on developing these types of reading skills is necessary.

I also agree that nurturing a love of reading for pleasure is important. Reading fiction has boundless benefits, especially for children and teenagers.

I’ve heard some say that technical reading is for science class. Basically, let the science teachers handle all that, along with the social studies teachers for historical documents. Leave the English teachers to focus exclusively on the fiction side.

On the other side, content area teachers say they don’t teach reading and writing—that’s the English teacher’s job.

Which side do I fall on? Both, or neither.

From my time working in a school for the deaf, I have it ingrained in me that all teachers are language arts teachers. We don’t all cover all aspects of language equally, but we all have parts we can build up, develop, and reinforce. I see no reason that shouldn’t carry over to non-deaf education.

At the same time, English teachers are in more of a position to focus deeply on the nuances of non-fiction, informational writing without splitting as much attention with the concepts and other skills to be mastered. They also have more training in the teaching of reading and writing.

So ideally, a balance between both. Teachers brainstorming about texts that fit within their curricula, including English class. Working together. Supporting each other.

As much as I love fiction, it’s not the be-all, end-all.

As much as I love math and science, they’re not the be-all, end-all.

So my first step? Try to open some dialogue with the English teachers at my school … because without Twitter, I wouldn’t have even known as much as I do about these new standards.