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In their own words
Liam Honigsberg

Liam Honigsberg graduated with honors from the University of California Berkeley with a degree in Cognitive Neuroscience. He is a 2004 Phoenix corps member and he taught mathematics at La Joya Community High School.

August 12, 2005

Half way through third hour today Robby Rodriguez comes blasting through my door. "Mr. Honigsberg!" he exclaims, "I am in your class now".

Every student at La Joya Community High School knows Robby Rodriguez. He is the starting quarterback for our football team, the lead singer for his ever-popular band, "Five Shades of Brown" and the kind of dominating presence every teacher fears.

"Where do I sit?" he demands.

Robby is joining a classroom full of students who have repeatedly failed the math portion of the AIMS high school exit exam and are therefore at risk for not graduating. We have over 150 seniors in this situation this year. La Joya High School has never offered an AIMS prep course before. The day before school started, the vice principal called me at home and requested that I design the class from scratch and teach it, starting tomorrow. How could I refuse?

Now, however, as I look over this classroom, I am questioning my decision. We have students at every ability level. Some have successfully passed geometry, some have yet to complete algebra. There is no useful curriculum available. The highly guarded nature of the AIMS math test means we are kept in the dark about its exact contents. I must teach everything in order to ensure the students are prepared.

Robby interrupted me in the middle of teaching a lesson on adding and subtracting integers. Some students have mastered this objective previously and I am anxious to supplement their time in class with more appropriate and more challenging work. Meanwhile, others are trying desperately to grasp the rules I am teaching for how to compute -6 + 8.

"So you are going to teach me to pass my AIMS, right?" Robby asks.

"That is correct Robby. This October, you are going to pass the AIMS math test."

October 2, 2005

Today is homecoming. Robby is exploding with energy. "We're playing Tolleson tonight! I can't focus on this stuff right now!"

Robby and I have repeatedly sat down one-on-one to assess the areas where he is performing below the standard and to work toward strengthening those areas. He forgets concepts quickly after learning them. "How many times do you practice a play before you master it?" I ask him.

He loses focus while working through long problem sets. "The AIMS test is three hours" I remind him. "Were you able to play a full game without conditioning first?"

He gets overly discouraged when he gets questions wrong. "Do you give up every time you throw an incomplete pass?"

Numerous experiences of failure with math had trained my students to protect their pride. As a result, many entered my class two months ago advertising an attitude of indifference. But nobody can deny the glow that follows success. As I held their hand through challenging concepts and refused to let go, that fear of yet another personal defeat was overcome. We are now devouring material at nearly twice our initial pace and morale is higher than ever.

Robby himself has proven to be a great asset to my class. His charisma instantly makes him a role model, and he is now thoroughly invested in passing the AIMS math test. He unabashedly volunteers to answer questions. He shares his thoughts when confused. He cheers his classmates on like any good quarterback should.

The AIMS math test is only three weeks away. We are in the middle of a unit on geometric shapes and, although we have made huge strides since the start of the semester, I am still uneasy. The fate of these students' future rests on their successful performance on this test and I am responsible for making that happen.

December 15, 2005

The results are in.

I pull my students outside one at a time to tell them their scores. Amanda — pass. Debbie — pass. Marvin — pass. Marcia — pass. Robby Rodriguez lands a powerful jab to my chest when he hears the news. "I passed? I passed?" I nod. "I passed!"

One hundred percent of students needing to pass who began the class at the start of the semester passed. Those few who failed were added late and will have the opportunity to take the course again in the spring, this time starting from the beginning.

Though elated, I cannot help but think about those students I will not reach. The Arizona Republic predicts that almost 5,000 seniors here in Arizona will not graduate this year because they did not pass the AIMS test. I know that these students could pass if given the proper support. They deserve a chance to sit in a classroom like mine, to rise up to a considerable challenge and to share in the thrill of victory that follows success.

It is not for lack of ability or desire that students in lower income communities are falling through the cracks. What happened in my classroom was not magic. It was a product of setting incredibly high standards, pursuing results relentlessly, and never giving up. Under those conditions, anything is possible.

Note: Some names have been changed in order to protect the privacy of individuals.

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