Even before the start of his decades-long teaching career, Chuck Strauss had fallen in love with math, an infatuation so strong it would come to define his life and help shape the lives of thousands upon thousands of Anchorage students. Across the span of a 34-year career Strauss managed to make calculus a varsity sport, pushed students to excel, was an omnipresent helping hand for other teachers, and lead all those who loved him into the mysterious world of math and beyond.
"He didn't only teach math, he taught time management and decision-making skills, as well as how to maintain optimism and a positive attitude in the midst of challenges," said Matt Ha, a former student of Strauss who now lives and works in San Francisco after graduating with an economics degree in from the University of California, Berkeley. "This showed in so many ways, whether he was helping me with homework before the sun came up, sternly telling me how to manage my time so that I wouldn't fall asleep in class, or giving his famous "good luck high fives" on the day of AP testing (they really do work, for the record)."
Former students and colleagues say Strauss' attentive presence and constant kindness was as reliable as the rise and fall of the sun, day after day, week after week. More than a subject matter expert, Strauss embodied that extra something that makes great teachers so special. He genuinely cared about people. He could connect with them. And he had passion. The combination radiated, finding its way through his relatively reserved personality into the hearts and minds of all those he influenced.
Somehow Strauss, who started his career with the Anchorage School District in 1980 at Central Middle School, had found a way to make math cool. In 1988 he joined the staff at Chugiak High School, where he taught for 16 years. In 2004 he made the move to South High School. Although he officially retired in May 2014, Strauss stayed on part-time for one more year, to personally shepherd his last core group of calculus students through their second year.
"Sitting in his classroom after school for exam prep or during lunch to get help on homework became a status symbol at South," said Sara Falcone, a 2015 graduate of Massachusetts Institute of Technology, who had a locker close to the teacher's classroom during her freshman year of high school. "I watched football players, skiers, the leads in the school plays, homecoming queens and kings all pass through his door. I really, really wanted to be one of them. Being in AP Calc was a thing worth fighting for."
It's difficult to measure his full impact on the students he influenced. Over the course of 35 years, more than 5,000 young minds have sat in his classroom. Repeatedly, his former students told Alaska Dispatch News that while Strauss may have taught math, it is the lessons he imparted along the way about life and learning for which they are most grateful.
A math teacher is born
Strauss' parents moved to Alaska when his father, a heavy equipment operator, took a job building the trans-Alaska pipeline. Strauss' dad dropped out of eighth grade during the Depression to help run the family farm. He'd also fallen in love with a high school valedictorian. Against her father's urging, they stuck together, creating a life and a 60-year marriage together in Alaska.
Strauss' mom, a Girl Scout leader who had a gift for humor and storytelling, did a lot of the parenting in the home, especially when her husband was away at work. Both parents, it turns out, were influential in shaping Strauss' gifts for math and teaching.
As a young boy Strauss recalls he didn't really love math or school in particular until his father, who always had a knack for math, instilled in him a drive for excellence. After bringing home a low mark in third grade, Strauss can still hear his father's words today: "You can bring home a D in certain things, but not in math." His father made his son write out every math problem over the Christmas break. When school resumed, Strauss beat everyone in the class.
While Strauss' math smarts came from his dad, his gift and artfulness with people came from his mom. "Grandma was always kind and patient. She disciplined with humor, and never got angry," said Strauss's daughter, Jennifer Neff, a math teacher herself who has taken over her dad's legacy at South High.
Strauss enrolled in college with a plan to become an engineer. But in his sophomore year, after he racked up the necessary math credits for the degree, he found he couldn't say goodbye to the subject he loved so dearly. An advisor encouraged Strauss to consider a teaching career. The next semester, Strauss took an introductory education class. He ended up observing a kindergarten classroom and right away knew he'd found his calling.
A teacher's teacher
Strauss is well known for going the extra mile, and for doing as much for other teachers as he did for his students.
"He was one of the most outstanding math teachers the Anchorage School District ever had," said Carol Comeau, a long-time educator and administrator with the district who retired from her role as superintendent in 2012. "He not only taught math. He taught kids. And there is a difference."
Comeau remembers Strauss always being willing to volunteer for new projects, including a TV-based homework hotline during the 1980s. Teachers would go on camera and answer questions that had been collected or sent in. Strauss was among the first volunteers, Comeau said.
When new textbooks came out, Strauss would go through them chapter by chapter, creating meticulous notes, outlines and answer keys, and share them with whomever wanted them. He wanted teachers to be as well prepared as possible, and was never territorial about his teaching style or his support materials.
"He was always willing to share what he would create," his daughter, Jennifer Neff, said. "The calculus notes that I use are ones he created."
Varsity Calculus
One year, as Strauss watched varsity letter jackets and athletes stream in and out of his classroom, he got the idea that excelling in higher level math is just as big of a deal as excelling in sports, and felt his students should be recognized for it. He came up with the idea "varsity calculus," and ordered T-shirts to match. Each year, a new shirt with a new class roster was printed.
"Math is usually seen as for the nerds, but with Strauss being a nerd was cool, and his enthusiasm for math was infectious," said Aimie Chase, a former student of Strauss' who went on to graduate from Baylor University and now works as an engineer in training with Alaska Village Electric Cooperative.
"All you had to do was try, because he gave you every opportunity to succeed," said Taylor Wilson, a freshman at Duke University who describes Strauss as "a teacher who really cares about his students."
"It's like a doctor who has excellent bedside manner. It's not required but it adds a lot more value to the experience. It makes his teaching more effective because the students listen more and it makes the learning more enjoyable," Wilson said.
Even after high school graduation, students found a way to keep Strauss close.
"I took it a step further and ended up wearing that shirt to every single final I had ever taken at UC Berkeley," said another student, Matt Ha.
Other students have proudly clung to their calculators, decorated with stickers earned by getting A's in Strauss's class.
"It seems silly but it was a great way of adding a concrete incentive to tests," said Emily Rogers, a 2015 graduate of Harvard University who now works at a robotics company in the San Francisco Bay area that designs wearable exoskeletons to increase users' mobility and strength. "I still have that same calculator and when my classmates would ask me about the stickers on it I would always brag about how awesome Mr. Strauss is!"
Rogers also credits Strauss for supporting and encouraging women to pursue science, technology, math and engineering. Strauss acknowledges, as a big brother to two sisters and the father of a daughter, he actively worked to make his classroom an inviting and comfortable place to learn.
"I did everything I could to recruit students into higher level math classes, especially girls," Strauss said, noting that for whatever reason girls seemed to get frustrated with themselves more easily than boys. He did what he could to show all of his students how to work through a setback, and encouraged lots of discussions. It wasn't the students who always got everything right that impressed him, but the ones who showed resolve. "I would always praise a student if they would say something, even if it was wrong," Strauss said, adding that having the courage to say something wrong was far superior than always being right.
Always there
Strauss's students describe him as an energetic, gentle man with a nerdy wit and inquisitive mind who loved wearing Chuck Taylor Converse tennis shoes and matching button-down shirts. Day in and day out, he was always at school, always accessible, and would work as hard as necessary to help a struggling student find their way.
"I had jazz band every morning, which I had to arrive at 6:30 for. He was always in his classroom when I walked by, and had been for an hour or more already. He was either grading papers, going over the material he would be teaching, or helping students one-on-one that needed additional support," said Benton Campbell, a former student of Strauss' who is now at the University of Minnesota studying chemical engineering.
"I always arrived by 5 am and hardly ever left before 5 pm. Then I brought home at least an hour of homework each night," Strauss said. "The part that kept it going for me was seeing students who said they can't do math, no matter what level they were at I would convince them that they could understand it. And as soon as I would see that light bulb come on it gave me more energy."
Once, Strauss, an avid runner, even had a student in need of help ask if it would be okay to run beside him and talk math. Strauss said yes, and as they ran they talked through the problem.
Strauss also created a tutoring club, which benefited his students and students in lower level math classes alike.
His magic
Strauss got to know his students well enough to poke fun at them, and took it in return as well. He had a wealth of math jokes at the ready, which students say they didn't mind because the jokes were actually pretty good.
One joke, which he wove into his classroom lesson each year, became legendary.
"The day he introduced integrals was particularly memorable-- it was practically a comedy routine. He insisted that the 'S' shape was related to his last name 'Strauss' and the unknown constant at the end ('+C') was related to his first name, Chuck. At the end of the lecture, he started unbuttoning the top of his shirt, and all the students looked at each other in bewilderment until he revealed a superman T-shirt underneath with a large 'S.' Now that we had learned about integrals we were all math Superheroes," explained Chase, his former student.
Strauss' real gift, if it can be defined, appears to be his ability and willingness to genuinely connect with and care about his students. He didn't just teach. He got to know people. He asked how they were doing in other aspects of life: dance, music, sports, college and career plans. He never encouraged struggling students to drop math, but instead helped them find their confidence and develop their skills.
"Students were more afraid to disappoint him than to make him angry. He didn't get angry. They wanted to make him proud," said Neff, his daughter, who Strauss says is the student and now colleague of whom he is most proud.
Saying goodbye to the classroom hasn't been easy.
"It is maybe the hardest thing I have ever done, to walk away after 30 years. It's left a big void in my life," said Strauss.
After his retirement, Strauss moved out of state to start a new chapter with his wife, an artist. There's a lot the couple missed out on while he poured his heart and soul into teaching. Maybe now, he'll get a passport. Maybe they'll travel.
Looking back, it is Strauss' students who lead the way for much of his life. His teaching career was a journey of shared discoveries, celebrated side by side. His students have gone on to become teachers, explorers, thinkers and problem solvers.
"I always felt like I needed to show them how great math was. There's magic in it," Strauss said. "I feel like I am just a normal person. Nothing special. I just loved what I did."