Quadratic equations
I am studying quadratic equations so I can be legal to teach multiplication and the addition of fractions. It's the law. I have to pass the test to qualify for the job I'm already doing.
I'm OK with developing and manipulating equations to figure out the maximum space available with a given fixed perimeter.
Graphs: not so much.
I'm sure at this point that they'll all look like parabolas.
All parabolas, I think, have x and y intercepts. Well, maybe not.
I have no clue how to tell if they go up or down or sideways.
I'm pretty good at finding common denominators for fractions, though. I can explain all that with slices of pizza.
I can do multiplication with little tiles or fingers or galaxies.
But I'll be damned if I can figure out where the parabolas go.
But it's the law and I need my job.
In my real life, I can do the paperwork and help the kids figure out how to accommodate their learning disabilities, and participate as a team member with the other teachers and apply band-aids to scraped elbows and explain to parents and other adults that the kids are not stupid and teach social engagement and justice methodology and how to be kind to one another and I can even magically make standardized test scores go up.
But they won't let me teach history (I could pass that test) or just language arts (I did pass that test). They won't let me teach art (without a test) and they won't let me continue teaching pizza slices unless I can figure out the graphing mystery of quadratic equations.
It's apparently easy to find history teachers. It's hard to find special education teachers. And for some reason not totally clear to me, it is crucial that any kid with any disability at all is supposed to have the very things that are most challenging to them taught to them by me.
So the kid who can't read well and will probably never read well is not allowed to study auto mechanics (which he already knows more about than I do and I worked in a couple of garages). No, he must study reading. And have a hard time. And often fail.
He does fine with social engagement, very well with being kind and he's got a beginning grasp of justice methodology and analysis. He doesn't read well, though. He hates reading. He tries, but the littlelettersjumparoundonthepageandthelinesmixupanditshardtounderstandwhatthemainpointisespeciallywhenitsnotclearlystated.
Maybe I should take the auto mechanics test and then I could teach that. Even though he already knows more about it than I do.
But I must teach reading and math. And I must study quadratic parabola-making equations so I can show him the difference between 2cm and .2cm so the pistons will fit into the cylinders correctly. And so I can teach capital letters at the beginning of the sentence to the girl who is learning to walk the parabolas of the hallways with the line of symmetry at the office all by herself without an aide to escort her.
The kitten, perfectly parabolic, is curled next to me on the math book. Perhaps I needn't disturb him.
I'm OK with developing and manipulating equations to figure out the maximum space available with a given fixed perimeter.
Graphs: not so much.
I'm sure at this point that they'll all look like parabolas.
All parabolas, I think, have x and y intercepts. Well, maybe not.
I have no clue how to tell if they go up or down or sideways.
I'm pretty good at finding common denominators for fractions, though. I can explain all that with slices of pizza.
I can do multiplication with little tiles or fingers or galaxies.
But I'll be damned if I can figure out where the parabolas go.
But it's the law and I need my job.
In my real life, I can do the paperwork and help the kids figure out how to accommodate their learning disabilities, and participate as a team member with the other teachers and apply band-aids to scraped elbows and explain to parents and other adults that the kids are not stupid and teach social engagement and justice methodology and how to be kind to one another and I can even magically make standardized test scores go up.
But they won't let me teach history (I could pass that test) or just language arts (I did pass that test). They won't let me teach art (without a test) and they won't let me continue teaching pizza slices unless I can figure out the graphing mystery of quadratic equations.
It's apparently easy to find history teachers. It's hard to find special education teachers. And for some reason not totally clear to me, it is crucial that any kid with any disability at all is supposed to have the very things that are most challenging to them taught to them by me.
So the kid who can't read well and will probably never read well is not allowed to study auto mechanics (which he already knows more about than I do and I worked in a couple of garages). No, he must study reading. And have a hard time. And often fail.
He does fine with social engagement, very well with being kind and he's got a beginning grasp of justice methodology and analysis. He doesn't read well, though. He hates reading. He tries, but the littlelettersjumparoundonthepageandthelinesmixupanditshardtounderstandwhatthemainpointisespeciallywhenitsnotclearlystated.
Maybe I should take the auto mechanics test and then I could teach that. Even though he already knows more about it than I do.
But I must teach reading and math. And I must study quadratic parabola-making equations so I can show him the difference between 2cm and .2cm so the pistons will fit into the cylinders correctly. And so I can teach capital letters at the beginning of the sentence to the girl who is learning to walk the parabolas of the hallways with the line of symmetry at the office all by herself without an aide to escort her.
The kitten, perfectly parabolic, is curled next to me on the math book. Perhaps I needn't disturb him.