The greatest danger in saying, “I am not good at XXXX,” is that it signifies surrender. Once we declare that we are not good at something, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy, because we give ourselves permission to abandon the struggle to improve our level of competence. This surrender is most frequently found in the declaration, “I’m not good at math,” because mastering mathematical concepts is perhaps the most demanding of all cognitive functions. For most elementary school children, the prospect of laboring through the formal procedures for computation using abstract numbers is not as engaging as reading about interesting people in history or in fiction. Algebra is seen by many middle-school students as an mindless manipulation of meaningless symbols using arcane rules to arrive at answers to artificial problems.
Often, those who declare “I’m not good at math,” believe that the ability to do mathematics is limited to a few people gifted with a special “math gene.” While it’s true that some people learn mathematics much more easily than others, mathematics up to freshman college level is within the grasp of almost all college students–provided they are prepared to work at it. John von Neumann, one of the intellectual giants of the 20th century, once asserted to a struggling student, “Young man, in mathematics, you don’t understand things, you just get used to them.” By this, he meant that you need to work at mathematics until you gradually acquire fluency in its language and develop a facility in applying it to solving problems.
In 1974, a 43-year-old, feisty mathematics and physics teacher from Bolivia, named Jaime Escalante, came to teach at Garfield High School in a poor area of East Los Angeles. In the mid-1960’s, permissive school administrators had relinquished control and allowed predominantly Latino street gangs to stake out their territories with “placas” on school property. The student dropout rate had reached 55% and the poor academic performance of the students had put Garfield at risk of losing its accreditation. Teachers were told to prepare courses appropriate for poorly performing students. However, Jaime made an interesting assumption: these students, in spite of their poor background, might be capable of mastering the most challenging mathematics course in high school–AP Calculus (Advanced Placement). After 4 years of unrelenting effort, Escalante established an AP Calculus course at Garfield. By 1981, 14 of the 15 students in his AP Calculus class passed the challenging AP Calculus examination. The passionate coach would ask his students, “Where is the money?” Responding to their blank stares, he would say:
The money is in chemistry, physics, computers, electronics,’…I’ll teach you math and that’s your language. With that, you’re going to make it. You’re going to college and sit in the first row, not the back because you’re going to know more than anybody.
During the 1980’s, word of Escalante’s success spread; in 1987 there were 73 students enrolled in AP Calculus. AP courses in various subject areas proliferated at Garfield High, and with it, a new belief in student potential. In 1988 Jay Mathews published a book titled Escalante: The Best Teacher in America and this was followed by the iconic movie, Stand and Deliver–now a staple of Math Methods courses for teachers. In reflecting on his achievements, Escalante observed, “The key to my success with youngsters is a very simple and time-honored tradition: hard work for teacher and student alike”.
While attending academic cocktail parties at various universities, people would approach me and, in an attempt at light conversation, would ask, “What is your field?” When I answered, “mathematics,” the visitor would often smile and announce, with self-deprecation, something like, “Oh math; I was never good at math!” As the conversation unfolded, it seemed to me an assertion made with the unspoken subtext, “I’m not good at math, because I am a creative free spirit.” After inquiring about their field of interest, I would think to myself, “This is an intelligent person who sold themselves short at some point in their youth. They probably had far more capability to learn mathematics than they realized.”
