The Geometry Ostracism
I’ve loved math. Yet at one early point in high school, that interest and passion could have been stunted.
I was a sophomore at Munich American High School and geometry was the math course for the sophomore year. As the class first assembled, I took a seat a couple of rows back, though directly in front of the teacher’s desk, which was to the right side of the room. Our teacher, Mrs. Gold, who was stern in manner, ran through the first roll call. At my name, she said “William Kamp-e”, pronouncing the silent ‘e’ at the end of my last name. She was clearly uninterested that I preferred Bill to William, and that she had mispronounced my last name.
The class started off with axioms and theorems, and very quickly seemed to have a mountain of homework each night. I was having trouble getting it all done, and I heard several other students voice the same complaint. Doing the homework was critical for the class because Mrs. Gold called on students to come to the board and show their proofs for each of the homework problems. If you wanted to participate, you came ready. In those first few weeks, whenever I raised my hand in class, I had an equal chance to be called on with my classmates.
By about the 3rd week, I was becoming worried that geometry homework was crowding out other subjects. The next day, I raised my hand to state the concern, and asked if we could have less homework. Apparently, such a thought was not welcome. Mrs. Gold paused and glared at me for a few seconds, then she pronounced my name in her particular style, emphasizing each syllable as she pointed to the windows on the far side of the room. “William Kamp-e, go sit over there!” I’d been ostracized.
The mounds of homework continued, and each day I would raise my hand when she asked questions of the class or asked for someone to show a proof at the board. My hand was invisible. She never even looked in my direction, and always called on someone else. That went on for a few weeks.
I still did the homework diligently, though, including the one night with 5 proofs to do. The last 3 of the 5 proofs were tough and I struggled to do them. Eventually, though, I found the approach, and had all 5 proofs.
The next day started as usual. When she asked someone to show the 1st proof, my hand went up with several others, and of course she called on someone else. The same happened for the 2nd proof. Then we came to the 3rd proof, and lo and behold, my hand was the only one up. Mrs. Gold hesitated and looked rather desperately for another person to call on. No one moved. With little choice, and with a frosty edge, she called out William Kamp-e. I went quickly to the board, wrote the steps of the proof, and moved aside so she could check it. She nodded it was correct, and I set down.
On to the 4th proof. Again, Mrs. Gold found my hand the only one in the air. She hesitated, but with a very slight grin, and more comfort in her voice, called me to the board. Again, the proof was correct, and I sat down. At the 5th proof, with no other hands in the air, the ice was fully broken. She now had a chuckle in her voice, and yes, found the proof was correct. And with that, I was back as a participating member of the class.
I guess the lesson was – always do your homework. Mrs. Gold persisted in calling me William Kamp-e, though, for the rest of the year.