To Correct or Not to Correct: How Getting the Right Answers Made Me Prideful

I felt the purple chalk dust stick to my fingertips and suddenly sneezed as I inhaled stray particles floating through the air. I paused to think and then wrote “20 + 4,” “8 – 6,” and “33 + 7” on the board. Samuel stood ready to solve whatever math problems I sent his way. He shuffled his feet across the grey-and-white-square patterned carpet in our basement.

“Zero plus four equals–four! Put the four in the ones column and the two in the tens column,” he said. Good work, buddy. “Twenty plus four equals 24.”

“Thanks for repeating the problem,” I said. “Let’s move on to the next one.” Samuel thought for a moment and then gazed at the number line on the board. “Three.”

“Okay,” I said. I tried to hide the hesitation in my voice. “Repeat the problem back to me.”

“Eight minus six equals three, ” Samuel said. Hmm. I could tell that Samuel didn’t feel sure about his answer, either. He stared straight ahead at the board for a moment and then looked at me questioningly.

Every child will get a math problem incorrect at some point. Some children mix up their signs, some mix up their numbers, and some simply don’t do the correct work and so arrive at the incorrect answer. I remember the first time I felt really challenged in a math class–seventh grade geometry writing proofs. What, exactly, is the point of convincing someone a square is a square? They already know. They can see it drawn on the board! Eventually I understood the reasoning behind writing proofs as I advanced in my math courses. They turned out to be sort of fun, like solving a complex puzzle or putting together a schedule for employees at a coffee shop. Those skills I learned writing proofs helped me as I grew older.

One skill I did not learn in math class was how to keep my advancing math abilities from making me feel proud and self-sufficient. When other students in math class needed help, they knew who to ask. I could solve almost every problem and readily helped my classmates. This definitely contributed to my desire to be a teacher, but it also made me feel like I knew everything. Which I did not, of course.

I rethought all the habits I acquired in high school and college as a new homeschool mom. I didn’t want my co-op students or Samuel to think that success in school means getting all the correct answers. I realized when I started to connect Charlotte Mason’s ideas with my high school habits that this is how my teachers taught in high school. If you get straight A’s, you’re smart and you know the material. If you get straight D’s, you’re not smart and you don’t know the material. What a very strange system on which to base success in school!

Charlotte Mason says in Home Education Volume 1,

“Pronounce a sum wrong or right–it cannot be something between the two. That which is wrong must remain wrong: the child must not be let run away with the notion that wrong can be mended into right. The future is before him: he may get the next sum right, and the wise teacher will make it her business to see that he does, and that he starts with new hope. But the wrong sum must just be let alone” (pg. 260-261).

This idea is often misunderstood or misconstrued to mean that a Charlotte-Mason-method style teacher must never correct a child’s work. I think what Charlotte Mason means is that we should correct our children’s work in a more subtle way for their benefit and personal growth.

Charlotte Mason refers to education as “the science of relations.” She encourages home educators to give their children space to figure out the relationships between different subjects. For example, say a teacher reads a child a story about a House Wren migrating from Mexico to Wisconsin and then later leads a short Geography study about Mesoamerica. The teacher would avoid asking the child, “Do you see a connection between Wrens and Mesoamerica?” Instead she would present the child with the information and then move on, relying on the child’s mind to keep working and thinking and wondering, which children’s minds easily do.

I think that Charlotte Mason relied on the same idea during math lessons. When Samuel solves a math problem incorrectly, I usually just say something like, “That’s not right. We’ll come back to that one another time.” This drives him absolutely crazy! I can tell he continues to think about the problem during breaks in our lessons for the rest of the day–and that’s the point! I’ve heard good writers give beginning writers this advice: give your reader enough information to get them to the next paragraph. Teachers do that in a way when they give their children enough but not all the information about a topic, like a brave soul dangling a string in front of a cat but always keeping it just a little out of the cat’s reach. A good teacher gives her child enough information to keep her child curious and thoughtful.

Let’s go back to Samuel and me working on math problems together. As you know, eight minus six equals two. How do I correct Samuel’s math work in that gentle and subtle Charlotte Mason way? I let Samuel know when he incorrectly solves a math problem. Then, I take note of the math problems Samuel gets wrong and I ask him to solve them again later in the week. I don’t usually tell him that he already tried to solve the problem–I simply write it on the board as part of a regular math lesson. If I’m introducing a new topic or coming to a problem I know Samuel struggles with, I’ll give him a short explanation before he tires to solve the problem. Something like, “Remember, when you do this problem add the ones column first,” or, “Don’t forget to carry the ‘one’ before you add the tens column.” I try not to give him any guidance during the actual problem-solving process.

Correcting math work this way helps children figure out their own mistakes. It makes the math lesson about the process of solving a problem instead of simply getting the right answer. I got straight A’s in my high school Spanish classes, but couldn’t diagram a sentence–I understood how the writers of my Spanish textbook pulled questions directly from the text. I used my deductive reasoning skills to master Spanish instead of using Spanish to master Spanish. A person can get all the correct answers but still know nothing about the subject matter. Children internalize and learn more about math when left to figure out their own problem solving errors. And they don’t become focused on getting the correct answers right away and with minimal mental effort.

My pride and self-sufficiency grew during high school when I saw all those correct answers, “good work!” notes, and A’s across the top of papers. I was one of those students who never had to study for tests. I absorbed information easier than a Bounty paper towel absorbs wine in a TV commercial. I soaked up lectures and worksheet answers like a sponge. I should have thanked God for this wonderful gift, but instead I delighted in what I believed were my own abilities. I worshiped the creature rather than the Creator [1]–the skills instead of the one who gave them to me. God changed my heart during college when I discovered that I had to study in order to do well in my classes. What a beneficial lesson to learn, albeit a challenging lesson, especially in the midst of college exams.

I strive to teach Samuel that growth in character and joy in learning determine how successful he will be in his schoolwork. I don’t worry about the occasional incorrect answer or even daily incorrect answers. (Sometimes the fault lies with me and my teaching abilities.) Samuel can solve more complicated math problems and read more words than he could this time last year. He now takes the initiative to write his own sentences on pictures and cards. I love watching him really think about a passage from a book. He comes up with thoughtful and sometimes funny questions about what we read and study. He usually catches his math mistakes without any prompting from me. It’s just so fun to watch him grow and enjoy his schoolwork, and I don’t want to take that away from him by making his work all about answers, answers, answers!

I also don’t want him to grow up facing the same struggles I did. Our loving and gracious Heavenly Father thankfully showed me how getting the right answers lead me to a state of pride and self-sufficiency and then how I could turn that around by giving him the glory. [2] I don’t write this post to demonstrate how every right answers turns a grateful heart into a prideful heart across the board. The human heart is not that simple and a child’s wayward heart needs loving correction. But, in the case of everyday math problems, I encourage you to refrain from correcting your children–as challenging as that may be–and to give them ample opportunities to make their own connections as they continue to grow in grace and knowledge of the truth.

[1] Romans 1:24-25
[2] 1 Corinthians 10:31

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