Math class is boring, let's be honest. It’s the dreaded subject of the day, the class you go to and suddenly catch a migraine. This subject was for me, the same as it was for many of the people in my life: awful. As students are defined by grades, I didn’t want to go to a class that would reflect badly on my report card. That being said, my expectations for the Oh-So-Talked-About  “Mr. Witte’s Math Class” were no different than those of the Arrowhead math classes before it.

That was, until I walked in the room.

After sitting down, a tall man, dressed in a dark blue button down and dress pants sat on the edge of his desk, slowly twisting the red, rubber wedding band decorating his left hand. His feet were crossed at the ankles as he casually looked over.

“Life is more than just math, and so is my class,” Mr. Wittie said, “For as long as you’re one of my students, my way will be your way, and when you leave you decide if you want to take it with you.”

He’d managed to keep an entire room of teenagers infatuated with what came next. We were one in the same when listening to him. Suddenly, math had the possibility of being more than scribbled numbers on a piece of paper.

“Delete skyward off your phone right now if you have it downloaded.” He paced between the long tables glancing down at each one of us, “As long as you're trying your best, those grades shouldn’t matter. Your mental health is more important than a letter in a grade book.”

Shocked silence followed his words; a heaviness was lifted from the classroom like cool air had seeped in–sweet and refreshing. New expectations, new rules, new thoughts. Different.

As a coach, a father, a teacher, Mr. Witte knew the importance of love and kindness to yourself and your peers. Following his last words, he pointed out a sign he had hanging outside his room. It read: “YOU HAVE VALUE, YOUR WORDS MATTER, YOUR ACTIONS MATTER.” We were instructed everyday to hit that sign before walking into the room, so we’d remember those golden words–words more important than numbers floating around on a smart board. He asked us to take away from this class not math, but personal accountability and expectations for ourselves and our actions. To love ourselves. To become more than what your grades define you as. I still didn’t like math–I’m a musician, not a mathematician–but I was excited to walk into an environment where my best was enough. Not only did he change my mindset towards myself, but to what should be expected outside of his classroom. An open environment where mistakes are welcomed as learning experiences, where I'm defined by my personality, not my intelligence. Everything being said, the oh-so-talked-about Mr.Wittes math class turned out to be more than I could have ever hoped for. A boring math class gone right.