Mathématiques Noir + - × ÷ > < ≠

There is no plan in the current or proposed ESEA or in other federal legislation to stem the rapid slide of families into poverty, homelessness and food insecurity; to address the inequitable distribution of state and local funds to schools; to improve teaching and learning conditions in underfunded, high-poverty schools; or to recruit and train expert teachers who will stay in these schools and stop the revolving door of untrained novices who leave children further behind. There are no significant investments in training to better prepare teachers to teach new English learners, students with disabilities and others with a range of needs.

The term “zero tolerance” was first coined during the Reagan presidency and the war on drugs in the 1980s. Congress enacted the Drug-Free Schools and Communities Act in 1986, bringing the war on drugs to school with rules that mandated zero tolerance for any drugs or alcohol on public school grounds. During the Clinton administration, Congress took zero tolerance steps further, passing the 1994 Safe and Gun-Free Schools Act, which mandated a one-year expulsion for students who brought a firearm to school and pumped federal departments of Education and Justice funding into antiviolence programs. Youth, especially African American and Latino males, were considered by criminologists like James Q. Wilson and John Dilulio as superpredators who would fuel an explosive juvenile crime wave in coming decades. A half-dozen high-profile school shootings in the early 1990s, punctuated by the 1999 Columbine shootings, cemented the idea that young people and the public schools they inhabited were dangerous places indeed. Fear of school violence grew and has persisted despite the clear downward trend in documented incidents of violent crime in schools. Since 1993, according to reports issued annually by the National Center for Education Statistics, incidents of violence in school have been steadily dropping. It is a downward trend that echoes the same crime drop in the nation as a whole. But fear of crime in schools has trumped reality and common sense in shaping policies at the state and local school board levels. Zero tolerance, once focused on drugs, alcohol, and guns, now targets an ever-expanding range of behaviors.

#25. Stop Being Afraid

Fear will kill you dead. You’ve nothing to be afraid of that a little preparation and pragmatism cannot kill. Everybody who wanted to be a writer and didn’t become one failed based on one of two critical reasons: one, they were lazy, or two, they were afraid. Let’s take for granted you’re not lazy. That means you’re afraid. Fear is nonsense. What do you think is going to happen? You’re going to be eaten by tigers? Life will afford you lots of reasons to be afraid: bees, kidnappers, terrorism, being chewed apart by an escalator, Republicans, Snooki. But being a writer is nothing worthy of fear. It’s worthy of praise. And triumph. And fireworks. And shotguns. And a box of wine. So shove fear aside — let fear be gnawed upon by escalators and tigers. Step up to the plate. Let this be your year.

I would like to thank the graduating class for having chosen me as your faculty speaker.

I wondered: Why me? I have been teaching math at Stuyvesant for 29 years and was never chosen before. By the way, 29 is a prime number. There are exactly two factors for 29: 1 and 29.

Maybe I was chosen for the approximately 5 basketballs that I confiscated from students during your four years at Stuyvesant. Or the 17 Frisbees I took away. Or the 113 decks of playing cards. Or the 257 cellphones I took away and brought to Miss Damesek’s office. In case you haven’t figured it out, all those numbers are prime numbers.

No, I don’t think so. I think that you heard three months ago that I have metastasized melanoma cancer in my lungs and that you wanted to honor me for my passion for teaching math. Thank you for honoring me.
Photograph courtesy of Stuyvesant High School

Even through all my problems, the best part of my day is teaching math. I have been teaching math for 43 years — another prime number — and still love it. I got lucky. I found a career that I really love.

I have been to many junior-high-school and high-school graduations as a teacher. However, the most important graduations for me were my children’s graduations. Yes, I am a parent of a son and a daughter. Teachers do it, too, you know.

Only when I attended my own children’s graduations did I realize how special parents find graduation. So give your parents a break today. Thank them for everything they have done for you. Let them take lots of pictures. Spend time with them. Let them enjoy it. In fact, please stand up, turn around, face your parents.

I have some homework for you. Assignment No. 1: Volunteer. Tutor for free. Volunteer to help a political candidate. Help your parents. Make dinner, baby-sit, say thank you. Give up your subway seat to someone who is elderly or disabled. Think of others.

Assignment No. 2: Find a career that you enjoy as much as I enjoy teaching math. You will be much happier with your life if you enjoy your job. And if your parents don’t like what you choose, that is their problem, not yours. When they see you happy in your life and career, they will be happy for you, too.

Assignment No. 3: Is 2011 a prime number?

I have loved being part of your four years of Stuyvesant. I have enjoyed watching you grow — physically, mentally and mathematically. I leave you with the following words:

Math is #1.

At 2 a.m. on the day he died, Richard Geller woke from a deep sleep and opened his eyes and began to speak. His son, Jason, was spending the night in the hospital and tried to make out what his father was saying. These would turn out to be the last words Richard Geller ever spoke, and Jason says it was hard to understand him. “Then I realized he was saying: ‘Take one and pass it down, take one and pass it down. Are there any questions?’”

A New York State court rightly upheld a state law requiring that prison inmates be counted in their home communities rather than where they are incarcerated. The law, passed in 2010, put an end to prison-based gerrymandering, which counted nonvoting prison inmates as “residents” to increase the population of some legislative districts. That practice artificially inflated the political power of voting residents in prison districts and diluted the voting strength of voters elsewhere.

I moved to the center of the room and assumed the position. I stared straight ahead. I tried to brace myself for the blow, but nothing could have prepared me. Swat! The force of the impact nearly knocked me over. I rose on my toes to keep from falling forward. The pain of it crackled through my thin body. My vision blurred. The sound in the room grew muted as if I was listening from underwater. My temples throbbed. My nostrils flared. My nose ran and my eyes watered despite my best efforts to prevent it. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I was on fire. My body demanded that I scream, run, cry, do something. But I knew that I could do nothing. I stood firm. “Thanks — may I have another?” That is the way it is often portrayed in movies and literature. Orderly. But that was only an introduction, a test. The hazing sessions quickly accelerated to dangerous affairs beyond imagination or comprehension.