My second hour precalc class is probably one of the most fun classes I’ve ever had. They’re sharp as a pin; a bit lazy; and very boisterous. I adore them. 

Last week they made a bet with me: if their next test average was at least a 95, I owed them a donut party. I told them they had themselves a deal. 

Yesterday, they took the test. Today, they couldn’t wait to hear the average. 

“93.12.” I announced. 

The tumult began. 

Rumor got out that the very kid who had made the deal did not do too hot. One of his friends roared dramatically, “You will forever be remembered for this! Your gravestone shall read: ‘He who could not get us donuts.'”

I about died. And the kid took it all in great stride. 


One of my Calc kids wrote this last night. Basically, she concludes that calculus can explain the meaning of life. MY WORK HERE IS COMPLETE. 


I took my Intermediate Algebra kids to the career fair we had on campus today. When we got back, we still had about ten minutes left til the last bell of the day. I told them they could just hang out til the bell rang (to which one kid said, “I cannot BELIEVE you’re not making us do math right now.” I said, “Me either.”)

Anyway, I saw a group of kids talking quiettly in the corner. After a while, one of the girls spoke up: “Mrs. Peterson, none of us liked math before we had your class. We’ve decided it’s because of you that we’re doing so well. You really care about us.” 

Or something like that. It’s hard to paraphrase when you’re taken off guard. 

It was really precious. And sincere. And I didn’t cry in front of them. 


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