My experiences at the Exeter Mathematics Institute

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For three and half days this week, I had the opportunity to participate in the Exeter Math Institute.

It took place at the Spence School, an illustrious independent school on the upper east side. I’ve visited the school on a few different occasions, and it always makes me gasp. From carpeted classrooms, busts of historic figures, marble staircases, and a grandfather clock in the welcome hall, in many ways it feels more like a museum than any school that I’m accustomed to.

Getting past my awe, I quickly learned on day 1 of the institute that this would be very different than any other professional development that I’ve experienced. The focus isn’t so much pedagogy or even math pedagogy. The facilitator, Gwenneth Coogan (who I later learned is a former Olympic athlete), was set to immerse us in a Harkness mathematics classroom for three-and-a-half days. Harkness is problem-based, so that meant that I was going to be doing a lot of math — which was actually the whole point of attending. I feel that I negatively impact my students by not mathematically challenging myself on a regular basis. Plus, I’ve heard nothing but rave reviews of the Exeter problem sets. (We worked on Mathematics 2.)

*Notes about Gwen: She had no slides. We used Desmos from time to time, but at no point did she even think about using a projector. This was refreshing as she moved us to be in the moment. Flow, anyone? Also, I found her to be incredibly personable and welcoming. Through all my struggles she provided a warm smile and wholehearted encouragement.

An unexpectedly pleasant aspect of the PD was the fact that I got to collaborate with both public and private math teachers. Rubbing shoulders with them, listening, and sharing stories was so helpful. I now wonder why more PD doesn’t cross over these public-private boundaries. Interestingly, despite Harkness being typically found in elite private schools with class sizes of 8-12 students, I learned from Gwen that Exeter’s goal is actually to develop Harkness in public schools (whose class sizes, to say the least, are not 8-12 students). With that said, there were only 8 of us at this EMI, an intimate little group. Admittedly, this helped the conversations get deep and stay deep. Call me crazy, but by the end of the institute, I thought of asking my principal if we could host an EMI at my school next summer. Why not?

Knowing very little about the Harkness method, being immersed in it taught me a lot about how it works and why it can be successful. Through independent exploration and group communication, students use problem solving to explore and learn mathematical concepts. The teacher isn’t the focus, as they’re just another person in the room who helps spur discussion. The mathematics and the interdependent nature of the class are everything. There are no prescribed notes or detailed lessons, just carefully planned problem strings that help unlock mathematical ideas for students. There is a sequence for the course (I think), but there are no units, per se. Concepts are interwoven into problems and uncovered by students little-by-little over the course of the school year. The result is unbelievably high levels of student ownership of learning. Experiencing it firsthand, it was truly liberating.

I do have a couple reservations. First, how the heck am I make work for a class of 34 students? Putting motivation aside (like, yeah), a rich class discussion is what truly makes Harkness thrive. Having high expectations is one thing, but to what extent can my 30 students have discussions at the same level of sophistication as a class of 12? I’m on board with PBL and Harkness, but that worries me. Second, selecting problem sets is critical in Harkness, and many Harkness teachers actually write their own. I may be the minority, but writing my own problems is not realistic — especially the type of problems that have a variety of solution pathways and generate real learning based on integrated mathematics. And thanks to the Common Core, I know that I can’t use the Exeter problem sets straight up. Lastly, I have a feeling that by shifting to a nonlinear problem-based approach (instead of unit-based, which is more linear), may throw my standards-based grading system for a whirl. What do I do???

Like much of anything we do as teachers do, much of my implementation of a Harkness- style of teaching and learning will rest on lots of tweaks and adjustments over time that will make it effective for students that I teach. I’ll start small and hope for the best. Geoff’s PBL curriculum might also be a big help.

A closing thought. In a Harkness classroom, there are boards all around the outside of the room. A powerful feature of the class — and one that captures the heart of what Harkness represents — is a message that Gwen relays to her students early and often: the boards are you for you, not me. In other words, the board space is used strictly for showing student thinking. It encourages students to be vulnerable, to get things wrong. I made progress in this area last year with VNPS — PBL and Harkness seem like a natural next step.

 

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On the intersection of being White and being a math teacher

Two of the books that I read this summer, Why are the All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria by Beverly Daniel Tatum and Blindspot by Mahzarin R. Banaj and Anthony G. Greenwald, utterly blew my mind. 

So while the summer winds down, I’ll leave it at the end of this month with so many concerns about my teaching and how I address racism.

A. For my entire life, just like a lot of other White people in this country, I considered myself colorblind. I claimed that I was blind to the race of the people I interacted with. And I took a lot of pride in this fact, too. If I didn’t see people’s race, I couldn’t discriminate or play favorites. I conned myself into this line of thinking. Being born and raised in the inner city, and one of the few White people in my neighborhood and school, race wasn’t a “thing” for me. This perspective continued into adulthood and pervaded my teaching. Even with students, I either claimed the colorblind stance or simply avoided conversations about race. It isn’t until now that I realize that this is, and was a huge, huge problem.

B. Most White people don’t think we live in a racist society. Most White teachers don’t either. But we do. I’m not talking about outspoken racism, like that of white nationalists. I’m referencing the systematic racism that pervades in the air we breathe here in America. In many ways, we choose to not think about it because it’s uncomfortable. White privilege is a very real thing, even if we chose to look the other way. It existent in every aspect of society. Most White people don’t see it this way because we are (myself included) inside the box — we are part of the dominant group. That inherently makes it harder to understand the advantages we have.

C. What’s especially damaging about this is that every single White teacher I know is a good person. They don’t intentionally aim to do harm to students of color. Heck, most of these teachers teach in schools with large proportions of students of color because they want to help interrupt the cycle of inequality and injustice that these kids experience. But our hidden biases, which strongly favor our culture of Whiteness, can still significantly affect our judgment in ways that we aren’t even aware of.

D. What does this mean? It means that if we teachers (and especially our school leaders) don’t develop an anti-racist stance that fosters a critical consciousness about life being more than White privilege, our schools and classrooms will be a mere reflection of the racist society in which we live. It means that if we don’t mindfully recognize the systemic racism that our students of color, and colleagues for that matter, encounter every day, how can we attempt to take a chance at interrupting it?

E. So how do we, as teachers, bring up such a sensitive topic with colleagues and administrators to help push the needle in the right direction? There’s fear, dread, and detachment in people’s eyes (not just White people, either) whenever race is brought up. I know because it used to happen to me. I have no idea how to address this, but I think open, safe conversations with one another are vitally important — like at staff and department meetings. Provocative, reflective prompts are needed (Jose and Wendy!). A simple discussion can go a long way. Norms need to be set. I would hope that administrators can be present and active. Anxiety is natural, but I like to think that if we’re sincere and honor one another, the right words will always find their way out of our mouths.

F. Self-discovery might also help. Here are various research-based tests that we can take online to help determine each of our hidden biases. They are called Implicit Association Tests. Here’s some background on them.

G. I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m at a loss here. I’m no expert on how to make this happen. Progress seems so far away, but this post is a start for me, I suppose. A grueling and uncomfortable path lay ahead.

H. One more thing that I want to add. Right now, 75% of my mathematics department at my school is White male. That bothers me. At times, I worry about the subliminal messages that this sends the 90% of students at my school who are Black or Latino — especially if we (White males) aren’t actively taking an anti-racist approach to teaching and learning mathematics.

 

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