Learning junior high math realities

The alarm begins beeping at 5:30 a.m. Wednesday, and Jason Bandermann is surprised at how easy it is to get out of bed this morning.

By the end of the day, he will be laughed at, and the subject he teaches will be insulted. An object will be chucked at his head, and students will ignore what he has to say.

By the end of the day, his voice will become hoarse from explaining classroom rules over and over to each of his six classes.

But for now, as he polishes off a bowl of cereal, the 23-year-old feels nothing but excitement for his first day at Central Junior High School.

Just three months out of college, Mr. Bandermann will teach pre-algebra, basic and intermediate math to 121 students, all 13- and 14-year-olds.

His first day begins with an all-school assembly at 7:40 a.m., and it isn't until his second-period, intermediate math class that he's entirely on his own.

"I know people have nightmares about math," he tells his students after introducing himself. "But I know you all can do this. Through my subject, I'm going to teach you about life."

Mr. Bandermann knows his students will teach him something about life too. One of his first lessons comes during roll call.

"Julian? Who's Julian," Mr. Bandermann asks, looking around the crowded classroom.

A boy in a blue, Ecko jersey with a gold stud in his ear leans back casually in his chair, untied Nikes propped up on the desk next to him.

He ignores his teacher, then finally nods his head in acknowledgment of the name.

Julian spends most of the class staring out a window, waving at students in the hall. He's 13, doesn't like math and doesn't know what to think of his new teacher's enthusiasm.

When Mr. Bandermann asks how the students feel about his subject, the class explodes with "Nooooo!" Above the noise of 22 shouting students, Julian proclaims, "math sucks!"

Mr. Bandermann ignores the negative response.

Before their first session ends, he already recognizes Julian as a potential challenge. He takes note of the boy's defiant attitude and begins thinking about ways to motivate him in the classroom.

Two classes down, four to go.

Sharing times

As the day goes on, Mr. Bandermann's confidence grows and his speech becomes more relaxed. He shares personal information about his upcoming wedding and his love of long-distance running.

"You all are people just like me, and you deserve respect," he says to the students. "I'll give you a lot of freedoms, unless you take advantage of those."

Some students roll their eyes, some yawn. As he lectures about the importance of homework and attendance, he hears a small, metal object.

"What was that," he questions sharply. The only answers he receives are snickers and smirks.

Fourteen-year-old James sat in a desk in the middle of the room, watching the antics of his classmates and wondering about the preppy-looking, blond man at the front of the room.

He thinks about how young his teacher looks and questions whether other students will take him seriously. James struggles with math, and hopes that Mr. Bandermann will be able to help him through the year.

By the time the bell rings at the end of third period, James decides it's going to be an all-right class.

Lunch time comes at 10:57 a.m.

Mr. Bandermann's first four classes have passed in a blur, and he has two basic math classes left before his free hours.

Most of his classes are divided evenly between white and minority students. As he introduces himself to students, he looks out into a sea of cornrows, flashy jewelry and T-shirts emblazoned with guns, rock stars and cartoon Buddhas.

During fifth period, Mr. Bandermann reprimands 14-year-old Justin for wearing an eyebrow ring, which is against school policy.

Moments later, Justin finds himself dozing off. His head is propped up by one hand, and his body sways to-and-fro as he fights to keep his eyes open.

When it comes time to pass forward papers, a classmate taps him on the back to wake him up. The sixth-hour bell rings, and Justin bolts from the room, looking as though he hopes he won't ever have to return.

It's Mr. Bandermann's last class for the day. A group of 13 students slowly straggle in, and he opens with the same speech he's give five times already that day.

This time, his throat is sore and he's forced to take frequent drinks from his bottled water to continue speaking. There's no homework for any of his classes, just an introductory letter for parents to sign.

After the last bell, he collapses into his chair. It's the first time he's sat down in the classroom all day. He's disappointed by the lack of enthusiasm displayed by his students.

But for the most part, his own passion is undaunted by the day's happenings. Over the next 30 days, Mr. Bandermann will learn much more about his students and about being a teacher. There will be homework and tests, for both him and his students.

He'll meet parents during the junior high's back-to-school night Aug. 26. He'll meet obstacles throughout his daily classes, but he's determined to overcome them.

cclark@semissourian.com

335-6611, extension 128