Tonya Clarke has always loved math. But the students she taught during her first year in the classroom 25 years ago decidedly did not.
The class of juniors and seniors in Georgia鈥檚 Clayton County public schools had been told they weren鈥檛 on a college track. They couldn鈥檛 see how the problems in the textbook would be relevant to their lives.
鈥淭hat was not something they prepared me for when I graduated from Georgia State,鈥� said Clarke, now Clayton鈥檚 K-12 math coordinator, of the institution where she earned her teaching degree. 鈥淭hey did not tell me that students would not like math.鈥�
So she made it her mission to change their minds.
Instead of assigning her students a list of problems from the textbook, she asked them to do a set of calculations that she knew they would care about鈥攖o run the numbers on their future lives. What were they planning to do for a living? How much would it pay? How much would housing, food, other expenses cost? The budgeting project achieved what she鈥檇 set out to do: Show her students why math was useful in the real world.
It鈥檚 a goal that鈥檚 driven her work ever since.
鈥淚 had to figure out how to get the students to understand it and enjoy it. And that challenge was addictive: What else can I get them to enjoy?鈥� Clarke said. 鈥淔or me, it鈥檚 still the part that I love about education as a whole. There鈥檚 always something to problem-solve, to think through. There鈥檚 always a challenge.鈥�
When Clarke, 53, started as the district鈥檚 math coordinator, in 2014, she had her most high-profile opportunity yet to 鈥渕ake math matter鈥� for students across the district, just as she had in her own classroom years ago.
It became her slogan, her guiding star.
Clarke has set a vision for all students to think, reason, and analyze in math class, not just memorize equations. A few years after she started in the role, she began to build a new system to teach teachers how to facilitate this in their classrooms. And she鈥檚 brought in partnerships that expand students鈥� extracurricular options in math and give them opportunities to see themselves as leaders who can use math to solve real-world problems.
It鈥檚 a demanding approach to teaching an already challenging subject in a school system where Clarke says many educators believe that teacher-led instruction is key to creating an orderly classroom and a calm learning environment. Giving students more control in the problem-solving process can feel risky and unpredictable.
But Clarke not only believes her students can handle a deeper approach to math, she also wants them to understand that developing perseverance鈥攊n math classes and outside them鈥� can change their lives. It鈥檚 a goal that鈥檚 especially important to her as a Black educator, working in a majority-Black school district, she said.
I had to figure out how to get the students to understand it and enjoy it. And that challenge was addictive: What else can I get them to enjoy? For me, it's still the part that I love about education as a whole. There's always something to problem-solve, to think through. There's always a challenge.
About 70 percent of Clayton County students are Black; 22 percent are Hispanic. Nearly half of all students are economically disadvantaged, as designated by the state. Math-test scores were already well below the state average before the transformation began.
Clarke wants Clayton鈥檚 students to have access to math-based careers and to be able to use math to change their own communities.
鈥淪o much is going to depend on them having the knowledge and the wherewithal to advocate for themselves,鈥� she said.
Still, she鈥檚 quick to say that the work is only beginning. While she鈥檚 seen some classroom-level change in how students reason and discuss, new teachers are hesitant to deviate from a lecture-based format. State test scores, in part a casualty of the pandemic, haven鈥檛 yet shown gains.
But her colleagues across the district say that she鈥檚 shifted the conversation about what math is for and what Clayton鈥檚 students are capable of.
Through her more than two decades in the district, Clarke has built a reputation for setting ambitious goals and working shoulder to shoulder with teachers to attain them.
Clarke is asking for a big change from teachers, said Catherine Lawrence, a math and science instructional-support teacher at Adamson Middle School, but at the same time, she conveys the message, 鈥測ou鈥檙e not alone.鈥�
The 鈥業鈥檓 W.O.K.E. Project鈥�
Though the effort has become districtwide, Clarke started small, gathering a few teachers who were enthusiastic about embracing a project-based approach to math. They launched a pilot program in the 2016-17 school year.
At the time, Clarke said, students in the district closely followed conversations about police shootings and conduct. She and the teachers searched for a related topic that they could examine through data鈥攁nd landed on New York City鈥檚 stop-and-frisk policy.
The pilot ran as a four-week Saturday school course with middle and high schoolers. Instead of solving a series of equations, students spent their lessons comparing arrests by geographic area using ratios and proportions and graphed data to paint a picture of the overall impact of the program.
About 20 kids showed up to the first session, mostly students who wanted鈥攐r needed鈥攖he extra credit that teachers offered for participation to boost their grades. The second week, the size of the class had swelled to more than 30.
鈥淭he students who came the first week went back and told other friends about this project that we were doing that was going to help them examine fair policing,鈥� Clarke said. 鈥淎nd they brought more students with them.鈥�
Clarke dubbed this project-based structure the 鈥淚鈥檓 W.O.K.E. Project,鈥� an acronym for Widens Options through Knowledge and Empowerment. It鈥檚 since morphed into a one-week special project for middle schoolers for three academic years running. And it laid the foundation for the kind of professional learning she focuses on in her role as math coordinator.
鈥淲hat we鈥檝e been trying to get [teachers] to understand is start with the project,鈥� Clarke said. 鈥淪tart with the students and their interests; start with, 鈥榃hat will capture them?鈥� And then let鈥檚 look for where is the math within that? And how can we pull that math out?鈥�
That doesn鈥檛 mean projects for projects鈥� sake, she cautioned. Teachers would still need to teach to the standards and cover grade-level content. But they would meet those goals through students鈥� interests. Along the way, students would problem-solve, discuss their ideas with peers, and explain their reasoning.
That would take planning and deep content knowledge on the part of educators. It would mean teaching teachers to work in a dramatically different way from what they were doing at the time.
But Clarke thought it was the only way forward.
鈥淭here鈥檚 no problem that you can鈥檛 figure out,鈥� she said, an adage she adopted from her late father.
Neither of Clarke鈥檚 parents finished high school, but both went back to get GEDs and post-secondary degrees as adults. Watching them build successful careers鈥攈er mother as a nurse, her father as a small business owner鈥攈elped her envision big possibilities for herself, and later, for her students.
鈥楾he things I saw her do, I mimicked鈥�
Clarke鈥檚 approach to teaching math isn鈥檛 unique. Showing the subject鈥檚 real-world relevance and asking students to reason and discuss in math classes are strategies embedded in many materials designed to meet the Common Core State Standards.
They鈥檙e also central to California鈥檚 new proposed math framework, which has stirred up discussion and debate in the field. Over the past few years, more teachers have designed projects that ask students to use math to investigate social and political issues.
But applying this idea well is hard. It requires careful sequencing and teacher-provided support to make sure students have the content knowledge and procedural fluency they need to reason through complex problems.
鈥淧roblem-based structure has never been widely adopted in the United States. The further you go up [the grade levels], the less likely it鈥檚 going to happen,鈥� said Andrew Brantlinger, an associate professor of mathematics education at the University of Maryland.
There鈥檚 a lot to cover in math standards, in part because higher-level math is seen as central to college- and career-readiness. Taking the time for students to work through a problem can feel like an unnecessary detour for teachers facing pressure to race through content, he said.
Compounding matters: Most U.S. teachers didn鈥檛 learn math this way. In order to do problem-based learning well, teachers need to be 鈥渇lexible in [their] knowledge,鈥� Brantlinger said鈥攁ble to adjust if students鈥� questioning leads in unexpected directions.
Teaching teachers how to do this, and ensuring they have the background knowledge necessary, is difficult for most districts that try this approach, Brantlinger said.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 happening in Clayton, it鈥檚 a national issue,鈥� he said. But Clarke is unique in one way, Brantlinger said: Her long-standing commitment to the district, her being 鈥渞ooted in the community.鈥�
Clarke has used the capital she built up through more than two decades in Clayton in part to focus hard on teacher training. Her team has embedded new activities into the district curriculum, math tasks that provided opportunities for discussion and reasoning. But they knew that curriculum alone wouldn鈥檛 bring about changes in instruction.
Giving teachers the chance to learn new approaches, test them out, and discuss with one another鈥攖hat wasn鈥檛 going to happen at a one-off professional development session. So Clarke created a cadre of math ambassadors: classroom teachers, at each school and every grade level, who could meet with her regularly, learn together, and then mentor their peers.
For some teachers, taking on the role felt like an extension of the mentorship that Clarke had already been doing more informally with them throughout her two decades in the district.
鈥淭he things that I saw her do, I mimicked,鈥� said Lawrence, the instructional-support teacher. Her education in Clarke鈥檚 methods started long before her teaching career; back in 12th grade, she was one of Clarke鈥檚 Algebra 3 students.
鈥淚n her class, I was able to ask 鈥榳hy鈥� and actually get a definitive answer,鈥� Lawrence remembered鈥攁 contrast to other math classes she had been in where questions about the 鈥榳hy鈥� behind math methods 鈥渨ere just met with resistance.鈥� Clarke matched students with a peer partner to discuss and problem-solve. Lawrence instituted the same system in her own classes when she became a teacher.
Tarquiann Bates, an Algebra 1 teacher at Morrow High School, also remembered borrowing from Clarke鈥檚 approach for his own classroom, even before he started working as a math ambassador. 鈥淪he鈥檚 definitely leading from the front,鈥� he said.
Still, he worries about maintaining buy-in among staff. It takes a while to bring teachers around to this approach, he said. When teachers leave, or new staff starts, that process has to start all over again.
Encouraging students鈥攁nd teachers鈥攖o notice and wonder
Clarke understands that getting teachers on board takes time. Giving up any control in a room full of 20 to 30 teenagers is intimidating. Teachers worry that if they鈥檙e not 鈥渢he meanest or the sternest,鈥� kids will lose focus or end up off task. But lecturing to prevent side chatter doesn鈥檛 reliably engage students, either, she said. So Clarke tries to show teachers how to strike a balance.
In monthly meetings with the district鈥檚 math ambassadors, she models new procedures. Take one example of a 3rd grade lesson on symmetry.
Typically, teachers start by defining the term. In Clarke鈥檚 model, teachers begin by showing images that lack symmetry, a photo of a crab with three legs on one side and four on the other, for instance. They ask: 鈥淲hat do you notice, what do you wonder?鈥�
Once the students identify the leg difference, teachers can connect the concept of symmetry to an understanding that students already had.
The goal is for math ambassadors and other coaches to spread these practices to the teachers they work with. So far, though, that鈥檚 been a challenge.
Many teachers haven鈥檛 had much guidance with the new methods in part because school leaders haven鈥檛 made it a priority to schedule time for math ambassadors to offer training and group planning, Clarke said. She and her team are still working to change that, despite competing demands for teachers鈥� time during the day.
Clarke believes these implementation problems are part of the reason the instructional changes haven鈥檛 improved students鈥� math scores on state tests.
Like other high-poverty districts, Clayton has long struggled with the subject. Only 17 percent of students scored 鈥減roficient鈥� or above in Algebra 1 on state end-of-course assessments, compared with about 36 percent of students statewide, on tests administered in spring 2016, the year before the math transformation began.
Despite the efforts of Clarke and her team, those Algebra 1 scores haven鈥檛 budged. In fact, they fell: Just 14 percent of students scored at the proficient or above level in spring 2022鈥攖he first normal year of testing during the pandemic.
Still, schools are seeing some early evidence that they鈥檙e on the right track.
The district is also tracking student interest, said Trina Reaves, Clayton鈥檚 director of STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) and innovation.
Clarke set up new districtwide math competitions in which students demonstrate mathematical concepts through art, design their own math board games, or work in teams to use math to solve a real-world problem. Pre-COVID, about 600 students a year participated鈥攁 six-fold increase from the number that used to participate in the district鈥檚 exam-based competition.
Clarke has also struck up partnerships with several outside organizations to bring math-enrichment opportunities to district students, Reaves said.
One of the students who participated was Anna Njie.
Now a freshman at Vanderbilt University, Njie spent the summer of 2020 teaching elementary and middle school students remotely as one of Clayton鈥檚 math-literacy workers鈥攁n internship for high schoolers to teach math to younger children, which Clarke brought to Clayton through a partnership with the nonprofit Young People鈥檚 Project.
The program changed how Njie thought of herself: as someone who had something to teach others. She attributes much of that change to the leaders of the program, including Clarke.
Clarke made it known, Njie said: 鈥淲hat we had to say mattered.鈥�
