I’m sorry I don’t remember the name of the best teacher I ever had, a woman who taught me College Algebra when I was a freshman at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
That was the “bone head” math class of that era but for me it would be a challenge — I had failed College Algebra in high school. That’s why I had to take it again in college, and pass, to stay in school. Because some of my high school grades were so poor UNC required me to pass two math courses and four foreign language courses by the end of my sophomore year. Or go home.
I was nervous. I figured College Algebra in college would be every bit as hard as College Algebra in high school, or harder.
But on the first day of class this woman said I could make an “A” if I tried. This is what she told my class:
- I know all of you have had trouble with math, but you are smart enough to learn College Algebra or you would not have been admitted to UNC.
- I know this subject well and I am an excellent teacher.
- When you run into a problem I will help you. Come and see me during my office hours if you can. If you can’t, I’ll see you at other times, outside of my office hours.
- If you come to class, and study, you can make an “A,” every one of you. And then she said, “I want you to make an ‘A.'”
I took her at her word. I went to class. I studied. On at least a half a dozen occasions I went to see her to get help with a problem. I killed the final. I made an “A.”
Coming Monday: The Memo I Ignored