My Entire Math Class Was Failing,

so they changed their minds.

When I was teaching, and I love teaching, I taught a medical math class. This class was abbreviated to just six weeks, and was only for those savvy math students who tested out of the regular math class. While they didn't have to suffer the basics of algebra, they did have to learn medical math.

Teaching this class made me feel smart in a room of what I perceived to be mathematicians. (Remind me to tell you the story of how I became a math teacher after I myself failed algebra and geometry.) The class met twice a week, homework assigned with each class, and two practice exams which didn't count were scheduled. They were given in preparation for the only thing that did count...the final. To pass this class a student had to be successful on the final exam achieving a score of 80% or higher. That was it, nothing else.

A truly important class, medical math could be the difference between life and death. Give too much drug and there could be life ending consequences. Give too little drug and the healing doesn't come. The difference rests in the calculation. It must be correct.

The two practice tests gave a student an idea of how well they were doing in the class, and whether or not they were on track to pass. Valuable information, right? It was not unusual for many math intelligent students to fail the first practice test. That was not of any concern to me. They always seemed to right their ship. But this particular quarter not only did every student fail the first test, but they also all failed the second test too. What did this mean? Every student in my class was failing, and faced the very real possibility of failing the class unless by some unpredictable miracle, they could acquire complete understanding of the math in just six days.

It was up to me to deliver the miracle.

The day my class realized they had all failed the second practice exam, the discouragement in the room was palpable. To them, they were living an impossible situation.

I had them all come in close to me at the front, some sitting on desks, some in chairs, some standing or leaning. I wanted them to feel my positive energy, to understand I believed in them, and to hear my commitment to their success. In my most heartfelt way, I articulated to them that I would do whatever it took to support them in meeting the goal of passing with a score of at least 80%. I had a way of getting them there, but they had to follow my specific instructions exactly as I presented them. Didn't that grab their attention!

Each hopeful student was handed a neon colored 3 X 5 card with the instructions that on that card they were to write, "I'm so happy and grateful now that I've passed medical math."

A failing student desperate to pass will do anything if it will bring success, but that didn't stop the blank faces staring back at me. Really? That’s what you’ve got? Write on a card. They didn't have to say it out loud, I could feel it from them. But I continued.

"From this moment on, you are to think of nothing but passing. No what if's, no looking back at the practice test scores, no telling yourself you can't, absolutely no other option but passing. Got it? No--other--option--but--passing. You are to feel the joy and excitement you will feel when you pass. Do this as often as you can. Carry this card in your pocket, when that voice in your head shouts “you're going to fail”, reject that idea! You have all the control over what you think. Pull your card out, read it, say it out loud, sing it, dance to it, whatever feels good, and get your mind back on track with the feeling of passing the math final."

They all agreed. Pulling together, they set up study groups, and identified ways to support each other. They held each other accountable to what thoughts they entertained. They shared stories of what was working for them to keep their thoughts and feelings on track.

I added additional tutoring hours to which they all came. Every time I passed one of my math students in the hallway, or out on the campus grounds, I'd say, "Isn't it just the most thrilling thing to have passed the math test?!" Their reactions were always one of celebration, affirmation, and moving forward, then they'd flash their card at me.

I had my own internal work to do. Whenever I thought of the math class, I imagined them all passing with ease, so confident in their ability to calculate doses, volumes, drip rates and such. I felt successful as a math teacher, felt the thrill for them in passing, all in advance of the test. I lived in my imagination when it came to my math students. I wanted this for them, and I wanted it badly. I was not willing to consider any idea other than I was the best math teacher ever. I had given them the exact formula for passing, and if they did as instructed, it would produce the desired result with mathematical precision. (Pun intended)

The day of the final came quickly; six days flew by like an afternoon. I was delayed in getting to class and felt badly for it. I knew the students were waiting for me, and wondered if they were filled with confidence or with anxiety. Making them wait wasn't going to help that feeling.

I opened the back door to my class room stepped inside, and started to cry. You could have knocked me over with…well a math book. Looking from the back of the classroom to the whiteboard at the front, I saw in big blue letters, "WE ARE SO HAPPY AND GRATEFUL NOW THAT WE HAVE PASSED THE MATH TEST!" Every single one of their crumbled, bent, torn 3 X 5 cards was taped to the whiteboard. It was the most touching act any student ever did for me.

Looking out into their eager faces, I saw confidence, belief, willingness and readiness. Books all neatly tucked away, they had nothing but pencils and a calculator in front of hands neatly folded. It was an unexpected sight to behold. One I had never witnessed before, and never saw again.

The test was given, the miracle delivered. All my students passed. They went from failing to passing in just six days; some of them greatly exceeding the minimum 80% requirement, others by the skin of their teeth. I was so proud of them. They represented my greatest teaching achievement.

It is not just scripture or current cliche. You absolutely do become what you think about. You can't avoid it. Where your attention goes, energy flows, and that on which you are focused is drawn to you. It must by law. My math class proved it in spades.

If you look around at the results in your life, you will tie what's happening there to what you have been thinking. Maybe not right away, and perhaps not specifically, but the more you examine what goes on in your mind, the more you'll see the reflection of those thoughts and emotions in your life. Begs the question, what do want in your life, doesn't it?

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