Exceptional Rough and tough ... Let me tell you about Mick by Wendy G

This is the fifth of a series, following on from "The school with the birthday box", "How to hook them?!", "Surviving Friday Afternoons" and "What on earth just happened?". This was the weakest Year 10 Maths class, and for good reason. Their mathematical foundations were indeed very shaky. I tried hard to build their understanding of basic number work, and they improved slowly. Newspaper reports of weekend sports data, discussions of value in shopping for teenage products, cost of fast-food … all these made numbers start to be relevant. But Algebra? Trigonometry? Geometry? They struggled. They needed practical hands-on application of what they were trying to learn from a text book. When we studied Scale Drawing, linked with Geometry, I had an idea. A new building was being constructed on our site. It would hold rooms for computer and technical science subjects, woodwork, metalwork, and food technology, as well as a large canteen beside a gymnasium. I organised an excursion – behind the fenced-off area to the construction site. The building site foreman and the architect would lead us on a guided tour – and an explanation of architects' plans would be included. Scale drawings in real life. We donned our hard hats as required, and set off to our destination, fifty metres away.  Scale drawing became not only relevant – but understandable, even interesting! They poured over the plans, and were full of questions to the guides. Relevance was so important. They were also feeling very special – no other students were ever permitted onto the construction site. Mick enjoyed that "lesson" so much. He saw how a positive outcome - even a career -  could develop from understanding Maths. In the classroom, Mick could best be called a plodder. He often behaved badly for other teachers, but in my class I would have described him as earnest. He often asked me to repeat an explanation. He copied every single example I wrote on the whiteboard – slowly, very slowly. Even if I assured him that just two examples were sufficient – no, that would not do. Interestingly, although he was very rough in looks and speech, he was impeccably neat with his bookwork. He said he needed to think about his work later, so he could understand it. So yes, he copied absolutely everything. "Please don't rub it off yet! I'm not ready! I haven't got it all down," he would say, every Maths lesson. He could not be hurried. The other students groaned with impatience – but we always waited for Mick to be ready. However, when Mick got upset with himself for making an error, he would swear. If the other class members tried to hurry him, he would swear with annoyance. These expletives could be heard, loudly and clearly, and quite frequently. I addressed the issue. "Mick, I find your language offensive when you say that! Please don't use such bad language in my classroom!" Mick looked at me in genuine amazement. "But my Dad says that all the time, Miss!" he replied. He was right. He was from a large and unruly family of boys, and the parents often resorted to shouting and swearing to bring the boys into line. They were not very supportive, and had little interest in education. Mick made a great effort - but every so often he swore again; such a habit is difficult to break. Each time he would turn to me with those liquid dark brown eyes filled with remorse. "Sorry, Miss!" Dear Mick, he tried so hard. I only taught Mick for that one year. All the teachers were amazed, and somewhat dismayed, to see him return to school for Year Eleven. He had decided to complete two more years at school, and then go on to university. Everyone was incredulous. He would never make it. No-one in his family had ever been to university. His behaviour did not improve significantly; he was often in trouble, even suspended from school several times. He had warnings about expulsion. Nevertheless he sat for his final exams. When the results were published, he was disappointed. He went to see the Headmaster. "I want to repeat Year 12," Mick told him. The Headmaster at first refused – Mick was simply too disruptive. Mick begged, pleaded, made numerous promises of turning around, and being an exemplary student. Finally, the Headmaster relented. "You have one more chance!" he told Mick. "Let me down, and you will be out!" Mick repeated his promises and assurances. He lasted the distance. This time his results were sufficient to earn him entrance at university, studying Science. Once again the teachers were flabbergasted. I did not hear anything for a few years, but thought of him at times, wondering how he was managing. Then I had news. He had graduated with an Honours Degree in Science, then went on to do a PhD.  He is now doing research into finding a cure for cancer. "My" Mick. Cancer research! Then I understood. He was always so meticulous in my classes. Neat, orderly bookwork. Slow, and very careful. Thinking about it later. Asking questions. Processing information. Needing to see relevance. Repeating experiments until things made sense. Exactly the qualities needed by someone doing research. What a perfect career for Mick.  I feel honoured that for one year, I was involved in his life. His life - now dedicated to being part of a team to help humanity fight and beat cancer! I am so proud of him.   Recognized Author Notes Mick has risen above a troubled background with unsupportive parents. He is a role model to his siblings, and to the whole community. His determination and perseverance have paid off. Bravo, Mick.

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