Math Is Not a Test of Worth
When I first began tutoring mathematics and statistics for students in high school and community college, I had expected the hardest aspect to be explaining formulas. What I found was that the real barriers were emotional. Many of the students I worked with were neurodivergent, including those with ADHD or on the autism spectrum. Almost all arrived believing they were bad at math and sharing their fear of it. I know that feeling well. I failed my first college math course at 17 and spent years seeing numbers as a gatekeeper rather than a language I could speak.
Mathematics education often reflects expectations that cut against how many disabled and neurodivergent students learn. Speed is treated as proof of understanding. Timed exams stand in for evaluation. Struggle is framed as deficiency rather than information about the environment or the teaching methodology. These norms did not appear by accident, they are the byproducts of an instructional culture built around uniformity, surveillance, and performance.
I realized in my early twenties that I could not learn mathematics through traditional college instruction. I began using free resources such as Khan Academy and YouTube. Without time limits or pressure, I could think through problems at my own pace. Once I realized that understanding depends on method, not speed, I began to see that the problem was never with my brain or my mind. It was how math is taught. The method and philosophy of teaching mathematics matter as much as the content itself.
Mathematics is often taught as a race toward a correct answer rather than an exploration of reasoning. This approach rewards speed and conformity instead of patience and understanding. That realization shaped how I teach others. My tutoring sessions revolve around three strategies that make mathematical thinking accessible to students who process information differently. The methods I use are scaffolding, metacognition, and reverse solving.
Scaffolding means breaking complex ideas into smaller, connected parts. If a student is learning logistic regression, I start with probability, then move into binary outcomes, and only after that to odds ratios and full models. Each layer builds upon the last. This method prevents students from feeling overwhelmed and helps them experience progress in real time. It replaces the panic of “I can’t do this” with a steadier rhythm of understanding.
Metacognition is the practice of thinking about how we think. I encourage students to slow down and reflect on the process rather than the product. I like to ask questions such as, “What does this result tell you about the problem?” or “How would you explain this to someone with no background in math?” Prompts like these help students examine their own reasoning and reveal what they truly understand. Many begin to notice that what felt like confusion was often just rushed or unexamined thought.
Reverse solving turns the problem around. Instead of starting from the question, we begin with the answer and trace how it could have been reached. This allows students to explore logic without the pressure of uncertainty. It often builds confidence in those who have internalized the idea that they cannot do math. When they can explain how a solution works, they begin to see that the skill was always there.
Taken together, each of these approaches do more than make math easier. They create room for students who have been pushed out of STEM not by inability, but rather by a system that is unwilling to meet them where they are. Many students that I have tutored and taught arrive believing the difficulty signals a personal flaw. However, once they are given time, tools, and permission to think differently, their performance changes, as does their sense of belonging. The broader fight for disability justice includes dismantling norms that confuse conformity with intelligence. Rethinking how we teach math is one piece of that work. It gives disabled and neurodivergent students the opportunity to learn without being told that their brains are the problem.
“Joseph “Joey” Colby Bernert (any/all) is a queer clinical social worker, statistician, and public health researcher. He works at the intersection of rural health, substance abuse, and epidemiological studies.”
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