The mechanical pencils whizzed across the room like rockets on a battlefield. It was an absolute war zone: many tried their best to dodge or catch these missiles to no avail. Utter chaos is the first thing that comes to mind when I think back on my nostalgic math class tutored by Mr. Chang. But sometimes, life needs a little anarchy. Sure, one may argue that you do not learn anything in such an environment, but I experienced quite the opposite. I believe that in a classroom-like setting, teachers frequently bore students to sleep with their never-ending lectures and monotone voice. On the other hand, this aging, Taiwanese man filled his lessons with extraordinary life experiences, profane jokes, and his undying energy; of course, it is all taught in his hilarious and unforgettable accent. Not only did he teach me to love mathematics, but he encouraged me to be my very best.
I remember rushing out of elementary and middle school every single Tuesday. When the “school-is-finally-over” bell rang, I sprinted through the halls and hurried -- to my best ability -- to my mother’s car. Why? Because I was trying to get one of the front seats at a damn math tutoring class. Sure, Laugh all you want, but I swear that class had a sensational, cult-like following... My specific session was packed every single time. Thus, it was pretty much a privilege to be near the front. Located in Bayside, the institution was known as Sigma Workshops. It was a small location, but as soon as I walked in the door, the sentimental smells of pencils scribbling on paper, pens grading said papers, and students munching down on the crispy, tomato-y slices of pizza from Michael & Sons next door, told me that I was at my second home.
When 4:00 PM rolled around, the class had finally begun. We were handed a test packet and given an hour to complete it, which we were then ranked. After pulling my hair out over the last few questions and scrawling several illegible answers for them, I was ready for my favorite section of the class: after a little break, the next hour would consist of Mr. Chang going over the test, us complaining, him smirking in our pain, and learning new topics. While the lot of us were comparing answers and chatting, the air seemed to shift. Someone was about to come into the classroom. The previously boisterous room quickly fell silent. The door opened. And after all that waiting, the omnipotent almighty had finally arrived. Carrying his quintessential green tea, a box of pencils, and our most recent test packet, he took all the silence in. I have always wondered what it was like to be looked upon as a god. I could tell he loved it. Every F*cking. Second. Of. It.
As Mr. Chang covered the exam questions, he would always let his students answer first. If someone got the answer right, he would throw a mechanical pencil to them. If they did not, the class would be in an uproar, everyone wanting a chance, and screaming “challenge!” or “This is bullsh*t!” or simply,“f*ck!”. These little mechanical pencils to many may seem like just a trinket or gimmick. To us, however, they were precious. They were a status symbol -- a mark of intelligence. These pencils showed me that there was no such thing as a “good job,” but rather, they taught me that I could always do better and collect even more pencils. To do so, I had to take the initiative and build my confidence.
When learning about probability and statistics, I remember that Mr. Chang would always use hilarious, out-of-the-box ways to teach us and to help us remember ideas. For instance, an example that he used was something along the lines of: “If you and had six boyfriends, what is the chance that you will get Jack? (Obviously, Mr. Chang said this to a male student)” The man would also talk about his own life, including his time serving his mandatory time in the Taiwanese army. By telling us about his life experiences and whatnot, he not only made learning fun and showed me to enjoy math but to derive a passion for anything that I decide to do in life; without enthusiasm, how do you expect to get far in your career? How do will you be able to get out of bed every day, prepared to take on the day prepared with confidence and faith? I had to love whatever I choose to do with my whole heart.
After class had finally come to an end, Mr. Chang would pass out the exam results. Even though I usually placed a rank between middle and last, I would never lose my morale. Mr. Chang -- despite his funny and joking nature -- would always be extremely understanding and helpful. He would continuously stay after class to go over questions I still did not fully comprehend or just to chat about my life. The man was close to a father to me. He really was. I have always thought that tutoring was already a pain in the neck, but to actually sympathize? It was beyond me. Absolutely mind-blowing. To put it short, this aging, foreign mathematics virtuoso would never fail to brighten up my day with his wise words of hope, empowerment, and of course, calculus. “Live life, Jeffrey. When the day comes when you are already successful, I hope to be treated to a nice steak dinner.” I cannot wait to fulfill his dream.
Even to this day, four years after I had completed my time at that institution, I still visit as often as I can. As one of his longest-staying students, I have finally gained him as a new friend. Although there were only about six regular students left in his “more advanced” classes, I still loved his math class. His class had a totally unique style of teaching that screamed participation and brought endless laughter. Ultimately, after nearly nine years studying with him, I can say that I learned more than just math. So much more. He has unknowingly taught me to become confident, fearless, and passionate with his endless stories and gay jokes (no pun intended). Mr. Chang, you will always be in my heart, and I am forever grateful. May you throw your pencils across the room for all eternity.
Dedicated to Anthony “Jackie” Chang.