It is Friday afternoon. The last bell has rung. Students are rushing from the building. Teachers are trying to find the energy just to pack up their bags. I am standing in my room, exhausted. I should erase the board, straighten the desks, take time to reflect on the week. What went well? What could I have done better? Most important, what do my students need from me next week? I can barely think about more immediate questions. Do I have all the papers that need grading? Should I carry the laptop home, or will I just bring it back on Monday morning untouched, telegraphing guilt every time I look at it?

This is when K approaches me. He is usually the last student to leave, and today he has one more question. I have been entertaining questions all day, all week, all year. For twenty-five years now. It is what teachers do. The questions can be the best part of the job. They have the power to thrill me to my very core.

“I have an idea, Mrs. Erickson,” he says, “ I want to take a survey and analyze the results. Can I do that for math class?” Can you? Of course. But will you? You cannot stay attentive in class long enough even to solve an equation. You have yet to bring a homework assignment to class. What makes you think you will do this?

I think all this. But I do not say any of it. I sigh heavily. “I don’t know, K. Let’s try to get through the current topic, and then we can think about others.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel awful. K leaves. I spend the entire weekend regretting my words. Sure, I was tired, but it still feels like a terrible thing to do. Then a wise person tells me, “It is not what you do. It is what you do next.” With one phrase, he has absolved me of my lethargy and given me permission to revisit the conversation.

Here is another opportunity to honor student voice. To say to a student, “I hear you. I value your thoughts, and I honor your ideas.”

On Monday, I talk with K. I apologize for not embracing his idea when first presented. “I am sorry,” I say. “I was tired, and I did not recognize the potential of your idea. Of course, you can do this. Put together a proposal, and I will help you follow though. Or bring me data, and I will help you use math to analyze the results. I am glad you are excited about this.”

Will K follow through? Will he use this great idea to frame his study of algebra and be brought back into the fold of the class? I am skeptical. He may not be able to use this interest to practice his math skills. But it will not be because I told him no.

I hold out hope that K. will use this opportunity. And even if he does not, he will still know that his ideas are valued. His voice is honored. And I will be there to meet his next question with the vitality that it deserves.

Kathy Erickson, kathyserickson@gmail.com, teaches mathematics at Monument Mountain Regional High School in Great Barrington, Massachusetts. She is chair of the editorial panel for NCTM’s Student Explorations in Mathematics and is Rock, Paper, Scissors commissioner for her school. She finds inspiration every day in the mathematical questions, insights, and joys of her students and colleagues