This was the first year creating a book with my students didn’t feel like a complete novelty. In the previous three years, our books generated an “I can’t believe this is happening” feeling within me. The process was mostly surreal. This year, while I still had to pinch myself at times, my emotions were rooted in a feeling of “This is what we do.” The book has become part of the fabric of my class, an expectation to be met.
Thus, Mathematical Voices, Volume 4 continues the tradition of amplifying my students’ voices and telling the story of our school year. No doubt, it’s a complex story to tell. Not only does it play out over the course of 10 months, but there are many twists, turns, and unexpected events along the way. When immersed in a world of bettering oneself, like we are in a school setting, the human condition never fails to reveal itself. The people are complicated, the plot unpredictable. There is struggle and triumph. Joy and pain. Conflict and community.
Volume 4, like all volumes that came before it, audaciously showcases my students and their mathematical selves. Produced within a mile-high bureaucracy teetering to make sense of itself, this tiny book makes space for our greatest, most overlooked asset: students. They are the most precious and dynamic part of the story, but too often get reduced to Student IDs and test scores.
But Mathematical Voices pushes back. It boldly reveals the sweeping world of mathematics through the unique standpoint of 59 brilliant high school students in the Bronx. It tells of their pasts, presents, and futures. It highlights their ability to see and do mathematics in practical and ingenious ways. It’s personal and reflective. It shows how mathematics, often considered rigid and unmoving, can indeed be generative, lively, and fun when placed into the well-equipped hands of young people. Given an Algebra 2 curriculum that prioritizes facts and figures, Mathematical Voices proves that it is stories that matter, not statistics.
Volume 4 is the most voluminous iteration of Mathematical Voices to date, and our sum is richer and more representative as a result. All but four of the students who appear on my Regents-bound roster are present. Half have at least two pieces in this collection, and 9 students have three. One student, Genelly Liberato Gomez, has an unprecedented four pieces of writing. I’m proud that my students’ voices are louder and more vibrant than ever before.
For the second year in a row, I co-edited the Mathematical Voices with students. Its growth this year can be directly attributed to them. With their vision and willingness to read, select, and edit mounds of their peers’ writing, these young people ensured that Volume 4 was the biggest, baddest, and boldest version of itself. They are evidence that teachers must stop and take heed from students if they hope to accomplish anything worthwhile. Working alongside them gives me hope that teachers can persist in challenging traditional power dynamics and be more welcoming of the inherent gifts that students bring to our classrooms.
Vital to any story is its setting. This is why one of my favorite parts of Volume 4 — and the biggest change from earlier editions — is the many photos that can be found throughout the book. Most of these shots were taken unprompted throughout the year, giving readers visual context for what it was like to be in our class this year. The photos showcase our class culture and the conditions under which students’ writing developed. Several students from my classes served as class photographers. The photos are their observations of our time together.
In addition to establishing the setting of our story, the editing team also knew that the photos would be an important upgrade from previous editions of Mathematical Voices because of how they humanize the book and its authors. By pairing each piece of writing with a photograph of the author, we hope that readers can appreciate the author’s message even more. Interestingly, Volume 4 feels like an extension of our classroom since hundreds of these photos were printed and posted on the walls of room 227. The room experienced a renaissance this year, welcoming lounge chairs, whiteboard tables, relaxed lighting, surround sound, overhead space, calming scents, and even a sofa into the room. Of all the improvements, the photos were a defining element and what made being in the room every day so special. It was an unforgettable collage of mathematical humanity and community that manifested itself over the course of the school year. It was our story through photographs. I’m thankful that it lives on in Volume 4.
The relationships I build with students come and go. Students arrive abruptly in September and exit just as quickly in June. Our time together is temporary, a blimp on a timeline. It’s the nature of the work. For my students, I’m one teacher in a long line of many. A smiling face with good intentions and a lesson plan. Other, more capable teachers will come around in the years ahead and push the memory of me and our class to the background. To no fault of our own, our relationships will fade. We’ll move on. We must.
But though relationships fade, stories endure. They transcend time and space. They outlive school years and school buildings. Stories bottle up the moments, thoughts, feelings, and relationships that time steals away. Stories help us remember. The good ones want to be retold.
As mighty as it is, Mathematical Voices Volume 4 fails to tell the complete story of the Algebra 2 students during the 2022-23 school year. Teaching and learning are far too complex, and the book simply isn’t long enough. Despite this shortcoming, Volume 4 still does a wonderful job of preserving an important part of our story and gives it a chance to be told again, even if it is just to ourselves. It safeguards my students and our classroom community against the calamities of time and forgetfulness. This is why, through the years, Mathematical Voices has become so important to me.
My students and I will exist on those pages forever. Our story will wait resolutely for the next person to pick it up and discover (or rediscover) who we were and what we were about. I can think of no higher honor to offer my students.
As a teacher, to live on beside them in this way is the greatest privilege. No accolades or professional recognitions can compare to sharing space with my students on these pages. It’s a teacher’s dream. For their writings about mathematics reveal not only their world, but mine as well.
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