6 Mintues
written 2023, last edit 2023
7:24. I sat in front of my computer, waiting. I had a Zoom meeting with Elliot Mertz, a PhD student studying the history of mathematics and science, in three minutes, for help with math and physics. I lifted a pen to title my notes, although with no particular topic in mind I retreated to doodling colorful stars and hearts in the corner of my page. Integrals, matrices, Leibniz, existential Latin phrases, and Poppy the immortal physics poodle, our example object for physics problems, littered past pages of my notebook. I decided I didn’t need a title, considering we never stayed on topic anyway. Every week we fall down the rabbit hole of deriving mathematical formulas and historical physics drama. Last week we dove into the Leibniz-Clarke correspondence, and how Leibniz and Newton disputes “tore the math world apart.” I emerge from every session with a crazed “Elliot” look, ranting about time travel and particles or equations on the movement of liquid.
7:26. My mom walked in, asking if I had started yet. An instantaneous switch flipped in my brain when I answered in Portuguese. “Ainda não,” I replied. The most important thing I found about having two first languages was trusting yourself. I adapt on instinct, molding like clay to my enviroment’s chosen dialect. Most of the time. Every once in a while I find myself out of place, thinking in Portuguese, speaking in English, or vice versa. Sometimes I catch some French too. As she closed the door I saw her paint and sun freckle-speckled hands, from spending the day outside painting our porch windows. An artist mother and fixer father leave my home as an ever-in-progress project. It let my home grow with me.
7:28. My phone lit up with an email from a parent of one of my private figure skating students. I smiled, feeling lucky I taught so many private lessons a week I wasn’t sure which parent it was. Although I try not to brag, having seven privates a week makes me feel giddy with pride. I lifted my phone, opened the notification, and saw it was my first student, who I started working with junior year. I had been specifically requested by my student’s mother, and my student herself, through my boss. I’ve given her the push she needs to pass, and she's shown me how much of a collaborative process teaching is, and how rewarding it can be. I had been helping with group classes since I was 13, and was officially hired two years later. Each stepping stone of achievement gave me more confidence with my own voice, from having my own class to teaching adults to teaching more advanced levels to, finally, teaching my own private students. I felt like a real coach when I started privates, like “one of the big kids.”I felt more secure teaching based on my own life-long figure skating experience. Life-long, as in since I was three years old. I started memorizing my pep-talk speeches, encouraging kids (and sometimes adults) that falling down was okay, that the most important thing was to get up again, and that hard things are unavoidable, and a necessary part of life. I felt myself reliving my core memories with each child, between all the times I hit the ice, and all the times I got up again. Every time I saw their eyes light up with pride for themselves, I saw my own reflection; I saw my younger self landing her first axel, after waking up at 4:30am for weeks to practice.
7:30. I clicked on the Zoom link, and entered a world of learning. The stars and hearts in the corner of my pages smiled up at me as we began. “Newton was Master of the Mint?”
7:26. My mom walked in, asking if I had started yet. An instantaneous switch flipped in my brain when I answered in Portuguese. “Ainda não,” I replied. The most important thing I found about having two first languages was trusting yourself. I adapt on instinct, molding like clay to my enviroment’s chosen dialect. Most of the time. Every once in a while I find myself out of place, thinking in Portuguese, speaking in English, or vice versa. Sometimes I catch some French too. As she closed the door I saw her paint and sun freckle-speckled hands, from spending the day outside painting our porch windows. An artist mother and fixer father leave my home as an ever-in-progress project. It let my home grow with me.
7:28. My phone lit up with an email from a parent of one of my private figure skating students. I smiled, feeling lucky I taught so many private lessons a week I wasn’t sure which parent it was. Although I try not to brag, having seven privates a week makes me feel giddy with pride. I lifted my phone, opened the notification, and saw it was my first student, who I started working with junior year. I had been specifically requested by my student’s mother, and my student herself, through my boss. I’ve given her the push she needs to pass, and she's shown me how much of a collaborative process teaching is, and how rewarding it can be. I had been helping with group classes since I was 13, and was officially hired two years later. Each stepping stone of achievement gave me more confidence with my own voice, from having my own class to teaching adults to teaching more advanced levels to, finally, teaching my own private students. I felt like a real coach when I started privates, like “one of the big kids.”I felt more secure teaching based on my own life-long figure skating experience. Life-long, as in since I was three years old. I started memorizing my pep-talk speeches, encouraging kids (and sometimes adults) that falling down was okay, that the most important thing was to get up again, and that hard things are unavoidable, and a necessary part of life. I felt myself reliving my core memories with each child, between all the times I hit the ice, and all the times I got up again. Every time I saw their eyes light up with pride for themselves, I saw my own reflection; I saw my younger self landing her first axel, after waking up at 4:30am for weeks to practice.
7:30. I clicked on the Zoom link, and entered a world of learning. The stars and hearts in the corner of my pages smiled up at me as we began. “Newton was Master of the Mint?”