Quadratics, Failure, and Graduation

At least once a week, as I am standing at the whiteboard in front of 16 high school juniors, I completely blank on how to solve the basic math problem I am demonstrating for them. My liberal arts education prepared me for a lot of things, but not for very specific and annoying and rule-oriented high school math, where you have to memorize the Pythagorean Theorem or remember to flip an inequality sign when multiplying by a negative. Both my students and I know that I will inevitably mess something up every single math session. Then, I make a plea for help: “Well, I’m confused. Let’s figure this out as a class. What would you do next?” My students laugh, then help me out.

I am a high school coach with College Possible, a college access organization that helps low-income students gain admission to and graduate from college. In my current role, I work with 40 high school juniors, meeting individually and conducting group after-school sessions. With the help of coaches and College Possible staff, students will spend the next two years preparing for college admission tests, filling out college applications, and applying for scholarships. After earning admission to college, they will continue to receive support from a college coach who will ensure they graduate by assisting with FAFSA renewal, connecting them with campus resources, and answering any questions that come up during those exciting but intimidating years.

What I appreciate about College Possible, and why I chose this organization specifically as my path after college, is that its mission is deeply grounded in long-term student success. They want college graduates with manageable debt who feel prepared to enter the workplace, and our organization’s policies and results live out this idea in a way I can get behind.

At the same time, it’s hard to work with 16-year-olds and feel confident that I’m helping them prepare for the challenges they will face as 18- to 22-year-old college students. We have covered so much material already, like the difference between associate and bachelor’s degrees and the differences between a college and university. We’ve talked about class size and answered small but important questions like what “office hours” are and how to use them. Despite all of this, I’m sure I have missed something critical.

Whenever I work with students, I am intentional about recognizing how little I know about the challenges my students have faced and will face on the road to college graduation. My students have taught me so much, and I know far more about the diversity of the “college narrative” than I did even after graduating from Grinnell, where my liberal arts education left out quadratic equations in favor of critical discussions about institutionalized oppression in our education system. While I am realistic about my limitations as their coach, I also need to find ways I can be an advocate and support system for them. What is common to the college experience? How can I model what it takes to succeed in college? The answer that resonates so profoundly with me is that I know, somewhere along the way, my students will feel like they failed. And they will need to overcome that sense of failure in order to continue on the path to graduation.

This is why I am so glad I am bad at math. Every day, I get up in front of my students and clamber through our material. Sometimes my students say, “That was really fun. You explained it better than the book,” and everyone feels great. Other days, I mess almost everything up. My students constantly bail me out, laughing along. And I don’t feign any kind of authority. I keep asking for help, reaching out to my community, and showing them that the fear of messing up is no reason not to try. The next day, I am back up at the board: a little more prepared, but still ready to fail.

I hope my students remember how many times I mess up, and that it never stops me from trying. In college, they will have their College Possible coach a phone call away. Eventually, they will make connections with students and professors on campus. If they aren’t afraid of failure, their network of support will continue to grow.

When I was asked to write this piece, I told my students about it and how self-conscious I felt writing for a large audience. One of my students, Chance, spoke up from the back of the room: “Just write it and print out 40 copies and have us all edit it for you.” As always, my students were there to back me up. These are the future members of campus communities across the country: ready to help, ready to overcome failure, and ready to graduate.