Great minds don’t think alike—which is why students need to witness examples of genuine thought in all its glorious and messy individuality.
I work with a fifth grader—let’s call her Sasha—who struggles with math. She’s anxious about it, she’s told me. Sasha doesn’t like how it feels when it seems like the other kids are getting it and she’s not. She asks me to give her a practice problem like the ones she’s working on in class.
I think for a moment, then type onto our Zoom chalkboard: “I recently bought an 8-kilogram bag of Kitty Kibble. Assuming that I don’t go to the store again and Tabitha eats 50 grams of food a day, after how many days will she be completely out of food?”
Onscreen, I watch her read. First, she smiles—she likes it when my cat makes it into word problems—and then her expression darkens. She blinks, then swallows. Blinks again. Then she looks up. “Fifteen,” she says matter-of-factly.