#continuity and differentiability class 12th

[highestwater]

art creds: xioaye12589

FUCK YOU, CAN I HAVE THIS DANCE?

જ⁀➴ damian wayne is rude, egocentric and disgustingly intelligent. you hate him. you...hate him, right?

✄ ┈┈ slowburn academic rivals to lovers, damian wayne x fem!reader in which : you and damian are gotham's highs smartest and most competitive students. you and damian despise each other, or so you think.

sadie says! - " last name 'park' used for plot purposes, hell of a lotta denial on both sides, down bad damian, lore inaccuracy (in terms of how long damian's lived in gotham), when i say SLOWburn i mean it, very intelligent reader, rich x poor lowk?, reader has a shitty home life (we don't get too into it), batfam crumbs, damian as robin but also at school but also at home, damian pov chapters every 3 chapters, heed the music!! - feedback is always appreciated! "

♪ ♫ - kids, childish gambino

chapter 1 - shock! horror! maths class!

DAMIAN WAYNE WAS REALLY EASY TO HATE.

mad rich, mad smart, mad famous - he was excellence defined, gotham royalty. (and if the rumours were correct, actual royalty on his mothers side). as a result, a hell of a lot of people at gotham high did hate him - but no one did quite as much as you. 

never as much as you.

you and damian had been in the same classes from kindergarten to now, 12th grade. him; because his father practically owned gotham, and he had access to private tutors and elite elementary schools with impossibly expensive fees - and you; because you scraped by on your 90% scholarships, because you studied until your eyes watered and your hands shook, because you'd do anything if it meant getting a good job. you'd rather spend every day of your teen years at your desk, come hell or high water, to get a ticket the hell out of your house. 

you were sure that damian could never understand that. he had more money than he could ever need, more freedom than you could ever dream of. sometimes, thinking of his wealth made you feel nauseous. 

more often, the thought inspired all-consuming, bitter jealousy.

8:07 a.m. on a monday was far too early for differential equations. yet there you sit, in the front row of your maths class, eyes bleary from the impossibly bright sun beating down through the windows, mascara almost certainly smudged, hair wrenched into a half-up half-down. your uniform feels weirdly scratchy and awkward. 

toying with one of your curled locks, you write out the equation on your ipad. promptly solve it. put your stylus down. stare back at the equation, written large on the board. 

you think about that debate speech you were in the middle of writing, those flowers you’re yet to send to your grandmother on behalf of your family. those office hours your history teacher had put up. you should go to those. you’d need to put them in your calendar first, though. hmm…

“dp over dy equals y plus minus one.” damian’s voice, completely self-assured, pipes up from the back of the classroom.

ah, fuck.

“yes! well done, damian.” your teacher, mrs. tankada, beams at her (second) best student. you silently seethe. she begins to write his answer out, and thankfully, your brain begins to kick into gear. she continues, “but there is a cond-”

“only if p is never equal to or below zero!” you interrupt, louder than you mean to. the whole class turns to look at you, and you turn to look at damian. 

he’s spinning his pen, staring ahead, looking bored. oh my god, is that seriously a fountain pen? what an assho-

“which should be assumed, given the chain rule applies. unless you didn’t read the proofs, park?” damian retorts, calmly. 

he’s looking directly at you, and you make the mistake of making eye contact. he shoots a snide grin your way, flashing his perfect teeth. god, you feel like punching him. then again, what's new? 

a flush creeps up your neck and across your ears as you turn back around in your seat. how was everything he did so effortless? he might actually be a vampire or something. you wouldn't be surprised. sometimes damian certainly felt inhuman.

you and the decidedly non-human’s continual closeness in schools didn't even have a justification. it wasn't like your parents knew each other, or like you two had ever been friends. god, friends with damian wayne? you didn't think such a concept existed. the only people you ever saw him talk to were teachers, his billionaire father and billionaire benefactors for the school, where he served as the second face of wayne industries. it was like he couldn't fathom conversing with someone who's net worth was a cent below his - yet another reason why he could kick rocks. 

no, there was no reason. you and damian were purely, unfortunately, inescapably intertwined by the cruel strings of fate.

every year, without fail, you two tied for the title of your year level's top student. not because you allowed each other to, (you both had far too much pride for that), but because every year of your fierce competition was fueled even more by the last. 

failure was unacceptable. 

acquiescence wasn't even on the table. 

it wasn't a game to you. you scraped and clawed for the recognition you got, flashing taut smiles at teachers, and pulling all nighters, migraines pounding in your brain from the screaming in the kitchen. and damian, who didn't even seem like he had to try that hard, who everything came naturally to, infuriated you more every year.

at this point, everyone else had practically given up on the award - conceding it was simply a duopoly of you and damian. 

you or damian.

damian or you. 

wayne or park.

that's how it always was. 

and you'd never say it to his stupid, smug face, but you'd gotten used to it. 

you two orbited around each other; planets in the same solar system, ships in the night, parallel lines. you refused to be on the same team as him in P.E., were needlessly rude to each other in art class critiques, you sneered and shut down each other's points in socratic seminars. hell, your rivalry was practically an urban legend at gotham high. rumours swirled through teachers and students alike. you weren't socially stupid. you heard them as you walked the halls.

“she, like, fully lost her mind when he won that debate.”

“he totally only went for captain because she did.”

“they're the only two who qualified for the early acceptance program...no, not in school, the only two in the state.”

“i asked her why she hated damian once, and i swear she growled at his name.”

“they're like, unhealthily obsessed with each other.”

“you just can't put them in a group project together. trust me, i tried.”

‘if damian's in your 'intro to organ systems', you're fucking doomed. oh, her? double doomed.”

“i swear, they're this close to either killing each other or themselves.”

“at least she's got friends. shit, damian's more likely to death stare you to humiliation.”

“she's the smartest person i know.”

“he's gotham royalty.”

“all she does is study.” 

“all he does is study.”

but when gotham high's best weren't willing each other to die from across the room, when you weren't learning violin just to best him of first chair, when you weren't the last two people in the beep test, running as far away from each other as the track allowed, and you did get the chance to exchange words; it was….messy. 

truthfully, you didn’t think yourself capable of such harsh insults until he had first directed his irritating, posh accent your way in first grade. something trivial, about you getting sand from the sandpit on his uniform. you snapped back harshly, he retorted. and from then on, you had never been free from his stupid, smooth voice with that slightly british lilt that somehow sounded generationally expensive. the one that the girls at gotham high loved so much. however, damian didn't care much for such pursuits. girls would try to ask him for his number, or feign closeness, but he shut them down time after time - albeit politely.

that was the other thing, the next item on the laundry list of reasons damian wayne was a name you never wished to hear again. as much as you didn't want to admit it, the guy was beautiful.

like, duh, you had eyes. you weren't gonna pretend it wasn't a straight fact. a horrible, unfortunate, life-ruining fact, but a fact nonetheless. 

damian was taller than most of the boys in your year - 6 feet exactly, if you had to guess. just another thing that made you feel insignificant next to him. he was built fairly well, muscular and lean, but like all boys your age, he retained a little teenage lankiness. his skin was even, bright, and flawless in a way that said i use designer skincare that you probably can’t pronounce and that definitely costs more than your mortgage. it was a rich fawn colour, but had recently lightened to a tawny sort of brown now that it was winter in gotham. 

not that you had noticed.

it was just glaringly obvious, and no one ever shut up about damian’s looks anyway. his hair was a deep, dark brown, the kind that you’d thought was black until you had seen it in the late afternoon sun, and a halo of light surrounded him on the soccer field. he looked every part the angel everyone claimed him to be. every part the perfect boy. every part who you wanted to be. 

you could see his father, bruce wayne, gotham’s darling socialite in a few parts of damian; namely his sharp jaw, and his naturally contoured nose. and worst of all, damian’s piercing dark green eyes, ones that judged you from a mile away, framed by unfairly long, dark lashes. 

the kind of beauty that made most people's heart stutter on first glance.the intimidating, sharp, deadly kind of beauty. the i-want-to-wrap-my-hands-around-his-stupid-neck-and-watch-the-stupid-life-leave-his-stupid-body kind of beauty. 

you’re yanked out of your thoughts by mrs tankada’s voice. your name. 

“tell us, what’d you get for this one, darling?”

“uhh-” you falter, flipping through your notes. usually, you wouldn't allow yourself such liberties as distraction, but you were tired from your all-nighter, and you were acing maths anyways. you glance up to see the question. thank fuck. you just revised this last night. 

you spit out the answer with an unbidden, small voice crack. 

“excellent.” she smiles and you relax ever so slightly. academic validation tends to do that to you. you sit through the rest of class, blush fading away, noting down things you’ve already revised, nodding vigorously, crossing and uncrossing your legs more than 20 times, fiddling with your hair, and filling out your already extremely full calendar. 

mercifully, the bell rings. mrs tankada grins and waves at you as you leave. chem was next, thank the lord. you were 2 weeks ahead in chem, in no small part due to your constant revision. your desk at home was littered in scientific journal studies and prac reports. you smile at the thought of being so prepared, but wince at the thought of home. making a beeline for the lab, cutting through the crowded hallway, you think you’re home free. just then, you hear footsteps speeding up behind you. 

unmistakable, collected, long strides. 

you turn, and your face collides with damian's shoulder.

[girlactionfigure]

Recently, Alana Hadid collaborated on an Instagram post that claims Palestinian identity predates Judaism. It would be one thing to try to argue that Palestinian identity as it exists today predates the State of Israel -- something not everyone would agree with -- but Judaism?

If your advocacy for Palestinians requires you to deny, revise, or rewrite Jewish history, that’s not advocacy for Palestinians. That’s antisemitism.

RELIGION IN ANTIQUITY

Let’s put a few concepts into historical context. The concept of religion as it exists today did not exist in the ancient world. In antiquity, national and religious identities were almost one in the same. Think, for example, of the Ancient Egyptians or the Ancient Greeks. Though they both observed their own pantheon of gods and practiced their own traditional religious rituals, when we think of Ancient Egyptians or Ancient Greeks, we don’t think of them as religious groups. In the Middle East, most nations had a “national god;” for example, the Assyrians named themselves after their national god, Ashur. 

The difference between Ancient Egyptians and Ancient Greeks and Jews today is that while the Egyptians and Greeks have long ceased practicing their ancient national religions, in favor of religions like Christianity and Islam, Jews today do continue practicing the same religious rituals and rites as our ancient ancestors did. 

Just like the Ancient Egyptians made no differentiation between their national and religious identity, Jewish national and religious identity is still deeply intertwined. In fact, there is no word for “religion” in the Hebrew Bible. The closest would be “dat,” meaning law, or “emuna,” meaning belief.

BEFORE JUDAISM: YAHWISM 

The precursor to Judaism, Yahwism, dates back to the 12th century BCE. The most significant difference between Yahwism and Judaism is that the Yahwists only followed the Hebrew God -- YHWH -- but did not necessarily reject the rest of the existence of the Canaanite pantheon. 

The cult of YHWH was the national cult of the Kingdom of Israel (1047 BCE-930 BCE), though it seems other Canaanite cultures may have worshipped YHWH as well. Interestingly, the Hebrew God as depicted in the Hebrew Bible seems to be an amalgamation of YHWH and El, the most important god in the Canaanite pantheon.

FROM YAHWISM TO JUDAISM

In 930 BCE, the Kingdom of Israel split into two: the Kingdom of Israel to the north, also known as Samaria, and the Kingdom of Judah to the south. The term “Jew” comes from “Judahite,” as in a resident or citizen of the Kingdom of Judah. In Hebrew, the word for “Judahite” and “Jew” is the same, “Yehudi.” 

In 587 BCE, the Babylonians conquered the Kingdom of Judah and exiled its educated class to Babylon. It was around this time that the transition between Yahwism and Judaism -- which had been happening slowly over centuries -- became complete. The Jews came to reject the very existence of the rest of the deities in the Canaanite pantheon and, due to the Babylonian Exile, Jewish practices also picked up Babylonian influences.

ETYMOLOGY OF JUDAISM

The term “Judaism” itself does not come from Hebrew. Rather, it comes from Greek, and dates to the period of the Greek occupation of Judea (i.e. around the time of the story of Hanukkah). “Judaism” comes from Ἰουδαϊσμός” [Ioudaismos], a variation of the Greek term “Hellenismos.” It’s how the Greek occupiers described Jewish culture, religious ritual, and religious belief.

"Ioudaïsmós [was not] reduced to the designation of a religion. It means rather 'the aggregate of all those characteristics that makes Judaeans Judaean (or Jews Jewish).'"

Biblical scholar Shaye J. D. Cohen

To reiterate, for Jews themselves, there was no distinction between their national identity and their religious identity.

JUDAISM AS A RELIGION

Given that the concept of religion is a foreign one to Jewish identity, when did Jews start seeing ourselves as a religiousgroup? It all goes back to Napoleon and the French Revolution. 

For hundreds of years in Europe, Jews were denied citizenship, equal rights, and confined to living in ghettos. It was during the French Revolution that Jews were finally emancipated. Shortly after, Napoleon instituted a policy of Jewish emancipation that guaranteed Jews freedom from discrimination -- so long as we stripped the “national” elements from our Jewishness and instead reduced it merely to a religious identity. 

In 1806, Napoleon wrote: “[It is necessary to] reduce, if not destroy, the tendency of Jewish people to practice a very great number of activities that are harmful to civilization and to public order in society in all the countries of the world. It is necessary to stop the harm by preventing it; to prevent it, it is necessary to change the Jews…Once part of their youth will take its place in our armies, they will cease to have Jewish interests and sentiments; their interests and sentiments will be French.”

Napoleon’s assimilationist policies fundamentally shifted how Jews understood their identity. This set the groundwork for the Haskalah (Jewish Enlightenment) and the establishment of “religious” Jewish movements, such as the Reform and Conservative movements.

JEWISH IDENTITY

A NATION

If we are looking at Jewish identity through a Jewish lens, it’s important to understand that first and foremost, Jews consider ourselves a nation, which is why we call ourselves Am Yisrael, or the Nation of Israel. 

In this context, a nation is not necessarily a nation-state but rather, a group of people whose collective identity includes shared language, history, ethnicity, territory, and/or culture. It’s a term more political in nature than “ethnicity,” as a nation sees itself as having a common political destiny.

AN ETHNORELIGIOUS GROUP

In modern terms, we’d call ourselves an “ethnoreligious group,” meaning an ethnic group with a common religious practice.

A TRIBE

Jews also often refer to ourselves as a tribe, though technically we came from a confederation of tribes. In fact, the word “tribe” comes from “tribus” in Latin, which was first used to describe the 12 tribes of Israel.

WHAT ABOUT THE PHILISTINES?

The Philistines were an ancient seafaring people of Greek origin. They settled in Gaza and parts of what is now southern Israel in 1175 BCE. They are ethnically and culturally unrelated to today’s Palestinians and were exterminated by the Babylonians in the 7th century BCE.

“Philistine” is not what the Philistines called themselves, but rather, what the Israelites and Ancient Egyptians called them. We don’t know what the Philistines called themselves. The word comes from the Hebrew word “peleshet,” meaning “invader,” “squatter,” or “foreigner.”

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

rootsmetals

stop lying about Jewish history challenge 😃 the rest of the post is debunked in my DBAPP 4 highlight but I thought I’d fully address this particularly egregious lie because WOW! on second thought I do find this topic super interesting to talk about, so thanks I guess 😅

[foxmagpie]

I’ve always been curious, what is it like being a teacher? What’s the most enjoyable and un-enjoyable part of it?

I’m going to talk about pre-pandemic, haha, because that’s what being a teacher is, and this distance learning stuff is a hollow imitation of it, imo.

Being a teacher is crazy and insane and busy and exhausting and heavy and heartbreaking and invigorating and challenging and dynamic and creative and really, truly head-to-toe fulfilling. There are about 192 school days a year, and even if I had an absolute shit day, the next day, I’m happy to get up and go back in. It’s cheesy as hell, but really, each day is a new day. Kids forget that they were mad at you yesterday, that the lesson was boring, that you flubbed the lesson and fucked it up. Fresh slate every day—for you and them. You’ve got to give the kid that treated you like garbage on Thursday a free pass and smile and welcome them into your classroom on Friday, and 9 times out of 10, they’ll take the opportunity to be a better person on a new day.

I’ll break this into sections just so it seems, like, manageable. 

DAY TO DAY OPERATIONS OF BEING A TEACHER

Every day I have to have two lesson plans because I have two prep periods, which basically means that I teach two different classes (I always teach 10th grade, but sometimes I teach 11th and sometimes I teach 12th).

I get to school and have to get my plan ready for the day, setting up tech, writing on the board, and printing off assignments and organizing my turn-in basket. I have to prepare work for my TAs (last year I had five, which was super helpful but meant I was trying to find something for each of them to do for me every day). 

Your job as a teacher is a lot more than just teaching them whatever your content is. That’s actually, in my opinion, usually secondary. I’m a firm believer that a teacher should love kids first and their content area second. At the end of the day, your kids will forget most of what you taught them. But they’ll remember how they felt in your classroom, whether they felt safe, whether they felt love, whether they felt believed in. 

So! What’s teaching?

It’s:

Organization 

Classroom management

Discipline

Establishing routines

Establishing boundaries

Building relationships

Motivating reluctant learners

Challenging high-level learners

Creating a culture of respect

Creating a culture of curiosity

Differentiating to student level

Negotiating 

Meetings

Planning

Setting and tracking measurable teaching goals

Self-reflecting

Tweaking, adapting, and scrapping lesson plans on the fly

There’s a saying that teachers make more decisions minute-by-minute than surgeons, with an estimate that teachers make 130 decisions an hour. Those might look like:

Students don’t seem to be understanding the lesson. Should I adapt? Should we give it up and move to the next thing? Push through and reteach tomorrow? If I adapt, should I go slower? Use a better example? Have them break into groups based on their level of understanding? Those that get it can teach it to those that are shaky in confidence, and I can work closely with those that are really confused? Maybe it’s just scrapping the hardest part of the assignment? Maybe it means that I won’t grade the assignment they’re working on—I’ll just use it as a baseline assessment? 

That student is acting out. Should I cut it off at the root? Should I be firm or flippant? Should I say something in front of the whole class? Wait until we get started on something, and then pull them aside? Keep them after class? Email the parents? Send them to the principal? If I send them to the principal, should I walk them down to the office, leaving the rest of the class alone? Will they make it there themselves, or just wander the halls for an hour? What do I know about what’s going on with that student? Did they just go through a breakup? Did they just fail their math test? Are they getting enough to eat? Did I offend them when I made that joke yesterday? Is the content we’re going over today triggering? How do they feel about me? Did I fail to uphold the boundaries and expectations of the classroom? What method does this student respond to best, and what factors might inform how they respond to it today?

That behavior was disrespectful to another student. Did the student on the receiving end notice the eye-rolling or the sarcastic comment?  Are they affected by it? Will I make it better or worse by drawing attention to it? Are they friends, and it was just a harmless joke? Are they friends, but actually it’s still hurtful?

The class has gotten off topic. Should I let this continue because it’s building community? Should I let it continue because we’re having fun? Should I cut it off so they see me as firm and focused? Can I bring it back around to the topic at hand without making it seem dull? 

How should we divide up for this lesson? If students get to pick their partners, they’ll be more comfortable being vulnerable. But if they get to pick their partners, they might choose uneven partnerships, where one person does the work, or where they are at really different skill levels—too far apart to benefit from working together. Also, they might distract each other. Okay, maybe I’ll come up with pre-picked pairs. Who doesn’t get along with who and can’t be paired together? What happens if anyone is absent? 

And on and on and on and on. On any given day, you might catch a student cheating, crying quietly to themselves, looking pale and like they need to go the nurse’s office, angrily scribbling in a notebook, on day 10 of a bad mood and maybe it’s time to be addressed. 

You teach a lesson and have five minutes to reflect before the next lesson starts. From there, you adapt. Students needed more time on this, less time on this, we’re restructuring this, doing this in a different order—only this is a different set of students and their needs are different. 

It’s wild and tiring... and then after school, you go home and you have to create and design tomorrow’s lesson, sometimes from scratch, or sometimes you’re just adapting something you did before, but this time you’re fixing the directions, or shortening it, or adapting it for this particular set of students, or whatever. You take into account that they need to do stuff over and over and over again to get better at it, but it has to be slightly different so it’s still interesting to them. You grade, probably for too long (every day you give a new assignment, you have 130 things to grade!) You’re buried in paperwork.

You go to sleep. You get up. You do it all again!

WORST PARTS OF THE JOB

Failing a student. Not like giving them an F, but like... missing that they have an eating disorder. Not noticing that they’re struggling with depression because they’ve hidden it. Not setting up a dynamic in your classroom that’s best for that student—giving them too much leeway or not enough, pushing them too hard or letting them slide so they’re not learning. Knowing that’s on your shoulders.

Grading. It’s dull, repetitive, tedious, and you have to make a lot of decisions, especially with my content area (English). It’s not really whether they got the right answer, but how right they got the answer, and then you have to evaluate how well they supported that answer.

Having to set down firm boundaries when it leads to a difficult consequence for the kid, i.e. they’ve plagiarized their final paper, but if they fail, they’ll be kicked off the football team. It’s the second time they’ve plagiarized, so they didn’t learn their lesson the first time. The football team is the only part of school that they like and most of the reason they even bother to show up. What do you do? Okay, now it’s the same scenario, but this time it’s whether or not they graduate high school, and you’re the only thing standing in their way, except they took a shortcut every chance they got. 

Planning. It can go either way, really, but when you’re creatively drained, it’s hard because you’re to allowed to turn this switch off. You have to keep creating, there’s no alternative. Every day you have to have a new lesson.

Workload. You will work nights and weekends for nine months straight. 

Differentiating. At least in the states, our classrooms are mixed. In the same period, I’ll teach students that are reading at a college level at the same time that I’m teaching a 15-year-old that’s reading at a 2nd grade level. I’m delivering the same lesson to them, and sometimes it’s really hard to find a way to do that that benefits everyone in the class. It also means that I usually have to make 2 (sometimes 3) versions of assignments. I also have to keep it relatively private from the students that I’ve done this to avoid potential embarrassment issues or privacy breaches. 

Lessons failing. Sometimes they just don’t work. That’s fine, but you’ve got 30 pairs of eyes on you while it happens, and they’ll let you know exactly what they think.

You won’t like every student. Some students will treat you like garbage. Sometimes you just won’t click. Sometimes you can wear them down; sometimes you can’t. 

Lockdowns. We practice them. We have real ones. I am reminded at my job that if there is someone with a gun in my school, that I would put myself in between the bullet that would touch one of my kids. I would die for them. This is not something you can forget as an American school teacher, and it is a heavy burden. 

BEST PARTS OF THE JOB

Building relationships with kids. I get paid to laugh with kids. To watch them have eureka moments. To hear about them achieving that goal they’ve been working toward. To see them grow, mature, and become better people. Each relationship is special. These kids touch your life and they stitch themselves into your heart and I could burst, I love them so much. So many things are special to me. It’s the one kid who high fives me as hard as he can at the start of every class. The other kid who writes “Blake loves Ms. F” on my board every day. The kid that asks me for book recs. The kid that hangs after school to tell me about girl troubles. The kid that wants to show me videos of his truck doing cool tricks. The kid that drops off a plate of cookies that she baked for me. The kid that shows up with a Christmas ornament that reminded her of me. The kid that’s proud to show me a paragraph he wrote in Support Studies about his bicycle. The kid that passed this year for the first time in his high school career, and he credits it to you. Watching them light up when they see you at their basketball game or the school play. It makes everything on the worst part of the job list worth it. Honestly, most of the time, it makes those things not even matter. 

When kids trust you with their secrets and their pain. I value that my students trust me enough to tell me what they’ve gone through. It’s a difficult part of my job, but one I wouldn’t give up, because I know what it means.

Building a unit you’re excited about. When you’re passionate about the thing you teach? That’s amazing! I love when I make a lesson plan and kids have fun with it. I especially love when it allows them to show off their unique talents and skills. 

Being inspired by your colleagues. I work with brilliant teachers. We borrow, adapt, and steal from each other all the time. They do cool shit, and I love that I get to witness it and learn from it.

Breakthroughs. Whether that’s getting a student to learn a difficult concept, to care about doing well in the class, or to realize that you have their best interest at heart. Working hard at something and seeing the success is immensely gratifying.

When a kid tells you your class is their favorite. Many of mine tell me they hate English, they hate the assignments, but I’m their favorite teacher/this is their favorite class. It means I’ve made my classroom a space that they feel comfortable, embraced, and accepted in. It means that I’m doing my job in the way I feel good about doing it. 

Giving students the tools to be successful. I’ve seen teachers that handfeed their students the answers. That create easy assignments so that everyone passes. That give up on students being able to rise to the occasion. I believe in my students. I believe that if I’m patient, flexible, responsive, and that if I give them the right stepping stones to reach the target, they can succeed at the same time that they’re challenged. 

Seeing new points of view. I disagree vehemently with my students about a lot of things. But I’ve developed more empathy and become a better person by learning to love people I fundamentally disagree with. 

TL;DR: I think teachers are undervalued and there are a lot of misconceptions about the job. It’s way harder than most people think it is. It’s also incredibly rewarding and I don’t think any other job on earth would make me as happy, proud, or invigorated. As you can see, I become embarrassing OTT if anyone gives me the opportunity to talk about teaching. I love my students. I think about them every day. I worry about them, I’m proud of them, I’m rooting for them. They’re incredible young human beings, and I’m lucky to know them. 

[cbse-board]

Clear your basics to advance level concepts explained and prepared by expert teachers for Continuity and Differentiability Class 12 Maths.