On the first day of my classes, after the required roll call, I take the time to have my students introduce themselves. Many of my colleagues have told me they think that is a waste of time. But I have found it pays great dividends.
Many students struggle to participate in class, afraid of saying something wrong in front of their peers. Coming from high school, where they knew many other students since kindergarten, being in a class now where they likely know no one can be especially intimidating. That’s especially true in my math classes.
Many of my classes have around fifty students, so the introductions can’t be lengthy. I have them tell us their name, where they’re from, and something interesting about themselves. Usually, within a short time, people identify with others, and there is almost always something funny that lightens the mood in the class. By the time we finish, there is a feeling that we’re all friends and will have fun learning together.
The interesting things can be simple, like one girl saying she likes to collect unique Christmas socks to wear all year. They can also be something we want to hear more about.
For example, one boy said he had lived in South America for a couple of years and saw many homeless people. He decided that before he came to college, he wanted to know what it was like to live that way. He spent a couple of months living on the streets of a big U.S. city and was mugged and beaten. He said he would never do it again, but he was glad for what he learned.
This semester, as usual, there were some interesting experiences. One boy said he liked keeping a pack of sticky notes in his pocket. Then, whenever the urge came on him, he would write a motivational thought on one and put it somewhere.
Another boy raised a sticky note in the air. “Are you the one who put this on my desk? I found it here when I sat down.”
The first boy nodded. “I often put one on a random desk when I enter a classroom.”
“Why don’t you read it?” I said.
The note said, “If you can’t do something, remember others can’t as well.”
I laughed. “Is that motivational?”
“Well, it is a math class,” the boy said.
One boy, David, said the interesting thing about him was also strange. “I was born in a chicken building.”
“How did that happen?” I asked.
“I was my parents’ first child,” David replied. “My mother had never had a child before, but she had heard that once a woman went into labor, it was still hours until the baby came. When she felt the first contractions, she assumed it would be the same for her. After a short time, she thought she should consider going to the hospital. That’s when she remembered she hadn’t fed the chickens and gathered the eggs. She went to do it, and, well, I came faster than she thought I would. She yelled for my dad, and he barely had time to get to the shed to help before I was born.”
“It’s different for every woman,” a girl said.
Ellen, another girl in my class, said, “There is a family story in my family like that. My uncle was born in a barn. My grandfather was gone and wouldn’t be home until late, and my grandmother started having labor pains. She knew the cows needed milking, so she thought she had better do that first. Luckily, their neighbor came to check on her and was able to help.”
When we moved to the next boy to talk about himself, he said, “The interesting thing about me is, I was born in a hospital.”
