AlgebraWritten by Anthony Mixides
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Although math teachers do their best and show students how each kind of problem should be solved, most students who have just begun algebra find it a difficult subject because they need to be attentive when studying a problem, careful when writing an equation, and precise when solving it. Moreover, as a student, you may find it easy to solve an algebra equation in class, but may have problems while doing your algebra homework. Your parents would love to help you, but may not be very comfortable with subject. You may not want to go to an algebra tutor for help. Let’s get facts straight—you don’t just want answers, you want to learn how to solve problem, because in today’s competitive world, not just students but nations are judged on their knowledge of math and science. This is where Softmath’s Algebrator comes in. Developed by university-level math instructors and specialists in learning theories, Algebrator uses a step-by-step approach that high school and senior school students can use to check procedures they use when solving algebraic equations. You can use Algebrator to simplify expressions, solve equations and inequalities, and work with complex expressions.
Anthony Misides, writes articles and provides consultancy to Bell Cucina, a leading kitchen designing co.
| | The Power of PraiseWritten by Bridget Nolen
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As I peer into six-year-old eyes fixed on me I think about how attentive they become when I mention that I go to school at night. Explaining what graduate school is led to a whole lesson on timeline your education takes after first grade and different institutions of higher learning…ah, teachable moment. Some are intrigued by this newfound information of due dates and a little nervous by what I just said. Some are observant of my tone and recognize that it is gentle enough to know that I’m simply informing them and not reprimanding them… yet. However, I do assume that by December they should know our routine and I shouldn’t have to ask them seventeen times to put their homework in basket on Fridays. Just as I know by December which of them is going to view due dates as important in their lives and which just will just see it as another obstacle on that conventional path they are destined to rebel against. I secretly hope they do. I am also secretly happy as I take “lunch count” that I have to eat chicken patty from cafeteria today because I am nursing a hang over from Thursday night before…that some how got away from me. I go to grad school on Thursday nights and afterward I am usually reenergized enough to treat evening like a Friday night. By this point I did a good job of convincing myself that I am making most of my life by working hard all week, going to gym three times (for first time in three months), and following Tuesday-Wednesday diet (this diet consists of healthy eating on Tuesdays and Wednesdays because Mondays I am too depressed because weekend has just ended, and Thursdays begins weekend. This is my ticket to generally being out of control) and I now deserve to go out as I please. So, this is typically how Fridays go. I am both inspired and hung over by night before. It balances me out because I am tempted to show a movie and be cranky to kids all day, but what I felt from grad school night before reminds of how important it is to do best I can. This class I am taking now has had a special affect on me. Although I am never “excited” per say to get there, as I have just been “in actress mode” for 7 hours and am truly cringing at thought of doing group work with other peppy women, by time I leave a few hours later, I am always full of thoughts, and most importantly…I am overwhelmed with a desire to write. One night it was because I met with professor and he liked what I wrote. It was honestly as simple as that. He thought it was good. He offered to help me do something more with it. As I drove home that night I just marveled at power of praise. In those moments I felt as if I could do anything in world, that I was capable of being successful at anything I worked hard at. I am twenty-six years old. I felt like this was first time I ever got a gold star on my paper. It didn’t matter in that moment that I cried myself to sleep night before because I finally missed having someone to sleep next to. It didn’t matter that reasons I came up with for being alone were all my fault and that was worst part about it. It didn’t matter that I was tired, or overworked, or underpaid. It didn’t matter that I was going to go home to my roommates who would not understand. I felt invincible. I felt like I wanted to get a cup of coffee and stay up all night writing. I felt like getting to work next morning and hugging all my children and telling them how special they were. That they could write, and read and were capable of making all their dreams come true. In that moment, I wanted them to be intrinsically motivated and inspired in way that I was just then. I wanted them to learn just for sake of it, and write just to deal with it, and read just to escape from it, and live in spite of it. I wanted to teach. A few Thursdays past after this one and I slowly realized purpose of grad school in my life (which is a relief as it has been three years). It has served as a motivator for refection and a plan for action. It has been push to reenergize my teaching and spirit when it is down. It has been a reminder to revise and continue to learn and grow and reflect upon my teaching and spirit even when it is up. Those peppy women understood my life in a way that no one else could. They understood that teaching is an emotional battle that we are constantly searching for strategies to help us win. In class we just recently had I tried hard to be present in moments there. I tried to listen to professor read aloud a children book and not get sidetracked by my guilt of throwing away papers to grade, or being short with that child that continually tests me. I tried to really attend to another classmate when she was telling a story about her son instead of thinking of laundry I had to do and how many calories I consumed at lunch. I tried to write down all ideas I had while people were presenting in a place where I would actually access them tomorrow. I began to have that feeling of motivation and perspective and purpose and gratitude and excitement that has only come from this. I felt good about myself. At end of class, one woman read a portion of a book aloud. The writing was powerful and moving and paralyzing. It was about out how one girl felt to be eleven years old. I cried. I wanted to go home and find a book like that. I wanted to strive to write a book like that. I wanted to go to school next day and read a book like that. I wanted …to teach.
Bridget Nolen is a twenty-seven year old school teacher living in Philadelphia, PA. She currently writes articles that reflect upon teaching, living, and learning in your twenties.
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