The Life of 3.14

Before I begin: if you’re looking for a post filled with academic pedagogy, this site isn’t for you! If you want advice that’s a bit outside the norm, keep reading.

Since this is my first post, I’ll start with how I actually fell into teaching. Most people become teachers because they loved school; I am not one of those people. For as long as I can recall, I dreaded it. I still remember sinking my head into my elementary school desk to hide the fact that I was crying. I had done the math and realized there were five hours left in the day—and eight years left in my education. I was devastated.

Shortly after that, I made my first joke in class. I don’t remember the setup, but I’ll never forget the punchline: the sound of my classmates laughing. Instantly, my sadness turned to gladness. For the next eight years, I was the class clown. I finally found my “in.” Unfortunately, that “in” led to poor grades, friction with teachers, and eventually, an expulsion. I’ve never met a student as “bad” as I was.

College was a fluke (thanks to my SAT math score), and teaching was the last thing on my mind. My goal was to work in Major League Baseball, but when I graduated, the league was on strike. Dejected, I took a sales job on Monday and quit by Friday. To keep my afternoons free for coaching high school baseball, I started making bagels at 4:30 AM. Within days of coaching, I knew I’d found my life’s work—not because of the sport, but because of how easily I connected with kids through humor.

I went back to school for math and landed my first job in a portable classroom at a massive South Florida high school. My assignment? Dropout prevention math. I had 36 freshmen who hated school as much as I once did. My mentor told me, “If you can make a difference with one student, you’ve done your job.” I thought, one kid out of thirty? No thanks. I decided to just be myself instead.

I realized that if I was going to do this for thirty years without being miserable, I had to have fun. My philosophy hasn’t changed since: create an environment students actually want to enter. Empathizing with their “bad days” helps you create a safe space where they can be themselves.

If you aren’t “naturally funny,” my best advice is simply to not take yourself too seriously. Develop thick skin. If you’re trying to diffuse a “headache” student, try laughing with them. If you’re quick-witted, throw a zinger back. This light, frivolous jabbing is the language many kids speak. Share an embarrassing moment where you’re the butt of the joke, and you’ll have them eating out of your hand.

In nearly 30 years, I’ve never written a single detention slip. I started with the kids who failed dropout prevention, and now I teach AP Calculus BC. In four years, my Calculus enrollment has tripled. Are there math instructors smarter than me? Absolutely. But do they have as much fun? I doubt it.

It isn’t all jokes; there is a time to get deep. But kids learn best when they know you actually care. Next week, I’ll share more on how to build those deeper connections.