A very wise man, Henry Brooks Adams, once wrote “A teacher affects eternity: she (he) can never know where her (his) influence stops.”
Every day for 24 years, I walked past a plaque at Wayland Academy that bore that inscription. I have never doubted its sagacity. And I often wonder if my students sometimes look back on their high school days and think about who influenced them.
When I was in high school, I was lucky enough to have several very good teachers, men and women who had a profound effect on my life. I have written several times about Marion Felix and Joyce Kilmer, English teachers who nurtured in me a love for words and written expression, an appreciation for drama and poetry. I became an English teacher because of their influence. I became an amateur actor because of them.
Allie Allen, Romie Kosnar, Charlie Saloutas, Norm Messman, Vern Martzke. I owe a debt of gratitude to these men who helped to shape the person I eventually became. I’m sure there were other teachers in my school who were equally influential in the lives of other kids, too. There were lots of teachers I never had in class. So, while I may be slighting some people, I have no intention of doing so.
An article I read in the Wisconsin State Journal a few weeks back sent me racing back in my memory to my high school math classes. The article was titled “Why Math? Why Not?” and it was written by Esther Cepeda, a regular contributor in the editorial section. In it, she said, “As a high-school algebra teacher, the most common question I got from students was: ‘Why do we have to learn this? When will it ever matter?’”
I know for a fact that I voiced that concern to Vern Martzke, my Algebra 1, Geometry and Algebra 2 teacher. (Small school; he taught all the math!) Mr. Martzke’s answer still resonates with me. He said something like this: Mathematics will help you develop the discipline to solve concrete problems by thinking logically in the abstract. Wow! Who thought about the abstract in high school? Well, we learned to do that.
Maybe it was because I already had a love for words or maybe because I was just weird, but I loved doing “word problems” in algebra. I loved the logical progression of trying to solve geometry problems by the application of a bunch of theorems. Have I ever had to use the actual mathematics I learned in high school? Maybe not, but I know that the lessons in logic I absorbed back then still serve me in good stead today.
There was a “language” and a “structure” to math. It was an organized way of thinking, and there were rules to be followed. If you worked a math problem, there were right answers, and you had the tools to make informed guesses. If the guesses didn’t work out, you could attack it with a different set of tools, and you had the ability to “prove” your work was correct.
Mr. Martzke made us “show your work”! No savants could sneak by without “showing your work.” It was all about developing the ability to reason. What could be more valuable than that?
When I went on to college, I actually considered being a math major, and I took a few courses, but I soon realized that my interests in math, despite my knowledge of the importance of the lessons I’d learned in high school, were far outweighed by my interest in literature, writing and the spoken word, and I became an English major instead. I have never regretted that decision.
Now, more than 50 years since I last sat in a math class, I still appreciate the things I learned back then about logic and critical thinking. Those are skills I owe to Vernon Martzke.
Why math? Why not?
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