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Jerry Qiao

9/18/14
Autobiography ED101
Day 127
Its 7:02am. Ive hit snooze on my alarm clock twice already, but I know I cant afford
any more or else Ill miss the bus. Tardy detention is the absolute worst: you have to come to
school at 7:00am. Even with this strict punishment, I struggle to wake up early enough to
comfortably get ready in the morning. I throw on some sweatpants and a sweatshirt, quickly
brush my teeth (I didnt always have time for this part), and run out of the house with a cookie in
my mouth towards the bus stop.
I always treasure the bus ride because it gives me a quick opportunity to take a nap. Since
I had to take public transportation to get to my school, oversleeping meant I would be dropped
off far away from my school. Somehow, I always woke up in time though. Today was no
different.
I quickly run up to my homeroom. Mr. Akeson already has his attendance sheet out. Im
in my seat a few minutes before 7:45am, the official start of the day. Hes as no-nonsense as you
come. Twelve seconds late to homeroom? Youre marked tardy.
English is first in the morning today. I hate English. This class is one of the contributing
factors to my declining GPA. Already have three Bs in the first three terms, but this term,
because of one test that I really struggled with, Im at risk of getting my first C in my academic
career. The reason why I really hate this class really isnt the fact that weve been reading novels
from Victorian England (I actually quite enjoy the stories), but the fact that 2-3 times a week, we
would get pop quizzes to make sure we were doing the readings and not just getting the summary
off of Sparknotes. To make the quizzes Sparknotes proof, my teacher would pull 5 quotes or

sentences from the story, take out a word, and leave a blank for us to fill it in. I begrudgingly
finish and pass in the quiz. The rest of class is actually quite engaging, but my attitude has
already been spoiled. I probably got a 1/5 on that quiz.
The day can only get better from here: English was over. Luckily for me, my schedule
works out that I have a free block always after English. Todays is just a study hall, meaning I
have a 45-minute block to take a much-needed nap in the library. With track practice yesterday
afternoon, along with the massive amounts of AP US History homework, I went to bed at 1am
the night before. The 6 hours of sleep I got last night was more than I normally got.
Newly refreshed, I head to Pre-Calculus class. I actually enjoy this class quite a bit.
Unlike the rest of my classes, Ive been with my classmates for the past 3 years. Also unlike
most of my classes, which are usually diverse, my math class was 90% Asian, despite the school
only being 25% Asian. Because of the math grades we received in 7th and half of 8th grade, we
were placed on the highest math track in the school. I scurry to my seat, 4th row, second to last
seatessentially the back corner, just the way I like it. We review any questions my classmates
had on the homework the night before (I certainly never had any, as my mother, who has a M.A
in Math and Statistics, always was there to double-check and correct my homework). The first
ten minutes of class go by fast because of this. Well, that and I am stealthily playing Tetris on
my TI-84 under my desk. Its not like it really matters; my teachers back is to us most of the
time or talking specifically to the person who asked the question. It is amazing how fast class
passes when youre having fun. Even though the material is new today, I dont really bother
paying attention. I learn more from doing the homework problems and asking my mom for help
anyways. With the benefit of having 3 students sitting directly in front of me, Im able to

continue playing on my calculator. Im pretty sure the teacher knows what Im doing, but I guess
he just doesnt care.
Spanish class is next. This is easily the most boring of all my classes. My teacher has this
thick Latino accent that makes it difficult to understand, whether he speaks English or Spanish.
On top of that, he has tenure, or at least thats what we all thought because theres no other way
he would still be teaching at Boston Latin School since he doesnt actually teach us anything.
Ive sat in this class for 126 days already and my Spanish skills have somehow diminished.
Today, we have to write an open response for the film we watched yesterday. The only thing is,
all the films weve watched have had subtitles, so no one actually pays attention to the Spanish. I
take out my Spanish dictionary and write a bunch of nonsense on the piece of paper he gave us.
Everyone has learned that if you write anything even slightly intelligent, hell give you at least a
B. The whole thing takes about twenty minutes for me to finish, which is good because I have
the dreaded AP US History daily quiz later on in the day. I spend the rest of the period studying
for AP US History instead of learning Spanish. Not like my teacher actually cares.
Finally, its 11:22am. Lunchtime. The downside? There really isnt a lunch; 5th period
starts at 11:44am. It takes 3 minutes to walk down to the cafeteria, and when I say walk, I
mean bolting down while avoiding the 300 students that seem to be stopping me from reaching
my destination. I stand in the lunch line for about 5 or 7 minutes because my Spanish class is on
the opposite side of the school, so Im usually one of the last people to arrive, even with my swift
maneuvers to get here. This gives me about 5 minutes to actually eat before I need to clean up
and make it back to my class. Hardly enough time to catch my breath, let alone eat.
Its a fortunate thing for me, because my favorite class of the day is finally here: Latin.
Im probably one of 4 students in the entire school to actually enjoy Latin, let alone have it be

their favorite subject. I was blessed to have great Latin teachers through the years, which is
something I cant really say for many of my other teachers. I figure its because it takes true love
for teaching and true love for (the dead language of) Latin to actually want to talk about it for
180 days a year. The stories we studied and translated were always interesting. Ive discovered
this year that Cicero gave some powerful speeches in front of his peers or that Catullus had a
rather perverted mind when describing his lovers. Even though todays class was more of the
same, the subject content is engaging and Im actively able to engage in the text, both by
translating it and interpreting what these old guys from Ancient Rome were actually talking
about in their writings. Plus, Ms. Trainor really loves finding the most peculiar stories to study.
Unfortunately for me, AP US History is next. I wish I had nice things to say about this
class, but I really dont. We have daily quizzes on the days readings, followed with a 40-minute
lecture. I almost look forward to the quiz because it takes up the first 5-7 minutes of class.
Almost. Every day, I spend the end of my Spanish period to cram for the quiz; every day, I
memorize a few key terms and bits of information, regurgitate it, and then forget it until a
chapter test is imminent. The teacher is very strict, so I dont even dare to pull out my trusty TI84 to get me through the dullness of class. My only choice is to appear attentive while counting
the seconds on the clock as they tick by. I suppose I could pay attention, but why bother when I
can read the textbook and teach myself the same material in a more efficient manner?
Its finally last period. Only physics class stands in the way between me and an afternoon
of intense track workouts. My mind is absolutely numb by this point. It always is. I wish I were
able to give Mr. Klein more of my energy, because hes a really nice guy (even if hes not that
great of a teacher), but I really cant. Physics class, then, becomes a blur. I think we talked about
F=MA and completed a worksheet on it.

All in all, six and a half hours of class. 30 minutes of Tetris, 15 minutes of pop quizzes,
20 minutes of studying for those quizzes, 30 minutes of napping, 45 minutes of actual learning,
and a whole lot of time thinking about the philosophical questions of our generation.

Comparing my attitude from that day in high school and how I felt on any given day
while I was K-6 is like comparing night and day. My memories of elementary school and middle
school, albeit spotty, are filled with enthusiasm and joy. I remember all the times we went
outside as a class to perform science experiments, all the times we were given globes and maps
in social studies and given the freedom to explore on our own. Math was filled with fun games
that pitted one side of the class versus the other. We were given the freedom to write about
things that we wanted to write about in English. We sat together at tables, rather than one after
another in rows and columns. Our learning was done through active participation with the
subject content. We were actors in on our education, rather than passive recipients.
The majority of those things slowly disappeared once I entered into Boston Latin School.
Things became serious. I remember our headmaster telling us in our opening assembly to look at
the person on your left and right and understand that one of us would not be sitting in these
hallowed seats when we graduated in six years. I knew I wasnt going to be one of those kids
who couldnt handle it, but in the end, I wasnt so far off either.
I was always one of the smart kids when I was younger. I was that kid in class who
always raised his hand for every answer, but was never picked on because the teacher wanted
other students to contribute. Of course, when no one else answered, the teacher would always
come back to me. Although I pretended to be humble on the outside, I always cherished when

other students would talk about how Jerrys the teachers pet. He always gets the answers right
and does so well on tests. Teachers reinforced it too, whether consciously or subconsciously.
But when 7th grade began, I suddenly became exceedingly average. Ive learned through
the years that my teachers, or maybe teachers in general, only really focused on those at the
extremes. If you were doing well, teachers lauded you in front of the class and would create
more challenging problems to suit your needs; if you were failing, the teacher would make sure
to seek you out and made sure you were able to get back on track. But the students who were in
the middle? They were just an afterthought. And for the first time in my life, I became an
afterthought. I did well in some subjects, well enough to be the top in a few subjects. But for the
majority, I just slipped by. A B grade is seen as an accomplishment in most teachers eyes and
so I never received the attention I truly needed in order to meet my potential.
The system in place never fostered an environment for students to reach their full
potential. After all, how possible is it when half your classes threaten you with pop quizzes 2-3
times a week to keep you on your toes? Those pop quizzes did more harm than good, as I found
myself trying to remember key details rather than looking at a text critically. Even though I loved
Latin, pop quizzes seem counter-productive. One of my teachers used pop vocabulary quizzes to
get students to memorize vocabulary every night. But this strategy seemed like a lazy and
ineffective way for students to actively engage with the words and truly commit them to
memory.
Teacher, student, and subject matter are all crucial factors in the educational cycle.
Success is not achieved unless the other two ends of the triangle are properly in tune with the
student. A student may be beaming with potential, but if the teacher is not understanding or
aware of the students own passions and desires, the subject matter is lost in the teaching process.

For all my life, I loved math. My mind simply processes numbers better than any other subject.
But I became one of those students that got lost when trigonometry and pre-calculus was taught.
What is the purpose of learning how to do the Washer method to find the volume of a shape on a
graph? The connection to the real world became lost, and math simply became a skills drill class.
I remember so vividly the moment in elementary school when I realized that the area of a
triangle could be found by halving the area of a rectangle with the same length and width. But it
wasnt until I saw on some random website a few weeks ago that the derivative of the volume of
a sphere (4/3*pi*r3) is the surface area of a sphere (4pi*r2). I never thought to think of it like that,
because it seemed like the focus of high school became a game of who could memorize the most.
Knowledge, in the form of short-term memorization, doesnt impact a learner.

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