Luke Henesy is standing in front of 24 Revere High School sophomores and juniors, and three seniors, wading through a lesson on graphing systems of linear inequalities. This is an Advanced Algebra class, the Green section, and no one is texting, though a couple of times he has asked for the removal of headphones. Everyone is focused on what he’s doing, and it’s a Monday afternoon, last class of the day.
Under Luke’s shirt, where no one can see it, is a recent tattoo. It’s not a dragon. All the students know it’s there. In fact, they are responsible for its existence. This is the story of that tattoo.
Luke Henesy is two years out of Stanford University, a Teach for America math teacher at Revere High. A native of Concord, Concord-Carlisle class of 2006, he came back east after finishing Stanford and was placed in Revere. Revere has two categories of math classes – “honors” and “college,” which is the lower level. His two math classes are classified as college. He also teaches a senior elective, Advanced Mathematical Decision Making, which studies such things as financial institutions like the stock market and mutual funds. None of his algebra students possesses in any way a strong track record in mathematics. The three seniors are repeating previous failures in order to graduate.
The students all call him “Mister.” No Henesy, no Luke: just “Mister.” During the 80-minute class, he moves through the material carefully, logically. He distinguishes between “greater than,” “less than,” and “equal to,” drawing graphs for each sort of expression, asking questions all along the way. Why this slope? Why that y-intercept? Which side of the line should be shaded for “greater than”?
He uses PowerPoint to display graphs, formulae, and important notes. Then he works on the whiteboard to demonstrate his methodology. The students are, without exception, watching. Some are taking notes.
He began the class with a “Do Now,” a warm-up problem, during which he played music: “It’s Been a Long Time,” by Cake. The song was the timer for the quiz. It was like musical chairs: when it ended, the students set the “Do Now” aside.
Now he passes out work sheets, and the students work in pairs to complete them. Those that understand the problems help those that don’t. Mister passes up and down the rows, helping those that aren’t sure.
Sometimes he’ll stop to pose a general question and push for someone, anyone, to answer. Seldom does he call a response wrong; for Mister most are either “Right,” or “Close, very close.” Then he clarifies things, and the group moves on. No one is left behind.
Next Mister gives them a quiz, one of two problems with one partner doing one, the other the other. No groaning, no complaining: they get right to it for five minutes.
When they are done, he collects the quiz and returns to the “Do Now,” each student using a Senteo clicker, a handheld device into which she or he can key answers that are immediately projected onto the PowerPoint screen. A pie chart flashes up, showing that – this time, at least – 96% of the class agrees what a particular answer is.
At last Mister passes out homework, more systems of inequalities to graph tonight.
The surprise here is not the method Luke Henesy is using here. It’s seems pretty standard; it gets the material across and reinforces it in different and complementary ways. Most interesting is the extraordinary focus and investment of the students. At one point, dealing with a particularly perplexing question, he pulls out a dollar. “I’ve got a buck for whoever can answer this. Come on, now.” Eventually, someone gets the bill.
But the source of the students’ interest isn’t the cash. For most of the year it’s been the tattoo. Mister believes that the real key to getting high school students to learn lies in getting their attention. At Revere High the Advanced Algebra students all take the same semester exam, set by the department shortly before it is given. The honors sections tend to average above 80% on the exam, with the general and remedial sections trailing. Last year Mister’s best class passed with a 61%.
So he tried something new. He made a bet: if one of his math classes got better than 80%, he would allow members of that section to choose one of four mathematical functions, and he would have it tattooed onto any part of him they chose. A student named Carlos announced, “Mister, if we get this 80%, you better get that tattoo on your ribs because that’s where it hurts the most.” The class decided that he would have to earn their focus at the cost of great pain.
Luke worked hard with both classes, the Blue and the Green. He refused to allow anyone to quit. If a concept was hard for a student, that student had to work harder to learn it. And when the exam came at last, the Blue section got a 76%. (It was hampered by one student who had missed every class including the exam; her zero dragged the average down. To compensate, he voided her score and recalculated: 78% for the Blue.
The Green section was stronger. Everyone passed. The two lowest grades were 61% and 62%. Six students scored perfect exams. The Green section received a class average of 86%.
The tattoo on Mister’s rib is (f o f-1) (x) = x, which means “any function composed with the function’s inverse will yield the original input, usually x.” As a piece of ink art, it’s actually quite lovely. “And yes, it hurt.” But, really, Luke’s smile suggests it didn’t hurt at all.
His students are enthusiastic about what he’s doing. “He’s a good guy,” says one boy. “I love this class,” says a girl. “It’s my favorite,” says another. So here is a truth about teaching. Grab their attention very, very firmly, and their hearts and minds will follow.
In June Luke’s TFA term is up. In the summer he’s moving back near Stanford to San Francisco, where he’ll work for an investment firm. “But I can’t believe I won’t return to the classroom. These kids are rough, but I just love working with them.” And he’s still got plenty more ribs, and plenty more functions, more room for more ink art.
June, 2012 ©
What a great story, and so well told.