The following reflection was written by Zaozao (Annie) Lin who volunteered on the project. The participants recruited for this project were invited because they were either supporting the childcare for families attending English classes or they were taking English classes and expressed interest in becoming educators. Four Spanish-speaking mothers and one aunt participated in a six-week program, meeting for two hours each week to learn tools and games that support children’s math learning. Each session was co- facilitated by two bilingual former paraeducators, previous participants in the Doing the Math for Paraeducators training. Sessions focused on building caregivers’ math confidence and knowledge through concepts such as subitizing, number sense, patterns, and place value, as well as tools like number lines and hundred charts. Caregivers practiced playing TERC InvestigationsTM math games with their children (PreK–Grade 3) and ultimately helped lead math games for families at a Boston Public Schools back-to-school event.
This summer, I had the chance to join TERC’s Doing the Math with Families project—a six-week professional learning series with Spanish-speaking families. Each week, five mothers and one aunt arrived with their children, ready to explore math in ways that felt nothing like school and everything like community.
At first, I thought I was there simply to observe. But what I actually witnessed was a transformation—not only in how families interacted with math, but in how I understood the gap between school teaching and parent teaching and, more importantly, how sensemaking begins to close that gap.
The gap isn’t because parents “don’t know math,” it’s because school math and home math speak fundamentally different languages. In school, mathematics is often presented through procedures, rules, and specialized vocabulary. At home, math lives in the routines of daily life — counting eggs while cooking, dividing snacks among siblings, estimating time before leaving the house, or measuring laundry soap. These moments are rich with mathematical thinking, yet they rarely get recognized as such within school settings. Likewise, parents seldom see the reasoning and pedagogical intentions behind school activities, which can make formal math feel distant or inaccessible.
This project made that divide visible in compassionate and powerful ways. As families engaged in games, drawings, and shared sensemaking, I saw how much mathematical insight already existed in the home, and how quickly parents could re-enter mathematics when the entry point honored their backgrounds and ways of knowing. Effective teaching begins with knowing learners, valuing their prior knowledge, and building bridges rather than barriers. By grounding math in storytelling, visuals, and familiar routines, the project began to translate between the two languages of school math and home math, creating a shared space where both could coexist, enrich each other, and ultimately support children’s learning.
One of the first activities invited parents to sketch their math journeys using emojis. This was a deceptively simple prompt that turned out to be a small emotional roller coaster. For most of the parents the page was at first filled with cheerful suns, smiley faces, and bright colors. But as their drawings wandered into middle and high school, the emojis started to droop: straight line mouths, confused squiggles, even one completely blank face that a mother placed beside her high- school years. I didn’t need to understand every Spanish word to feel the shift. And yet, the room didn’t sink into sadness. Instead, parents chuckled softly, leaned toward one another, and nodded as if to say, “Yep ... that was me too.” Their stories were different, but the pattern was unmistakable, somewhere along the way, math stopped feeling like theirs and started belonging only to school.
That moment became the spark for the gap between school teaching and parent teaching. These playful drawings weren’t just doodles; they were clues to a much deeper disconnect. Parents hadn’t lost their ability to think mathematically. They had simply stopped being invited into the story. By letting families use emojis, humor, and memories to make sense of their past, the activity gently reopened a door that had been shut for years. It showed me that before parents can support children’s learning, they first need a way back into math themselves. This was the beginning of the bridge: a reminder that sensemaking—whether through drawings, laughter, or shared recognition can bring math out of the school-only box and return it to a place where everyone gets to play.
Two “Math Journey” drawings about parents’ prior experiences with mathematics.
If traditional school math feels like being told the “right” answer, sensemaking feels like being invited to wonder. It values noticing, explaining, questioning, predicting, which are skills families already use every day. In our sessions, I watched these abilities resurface almost instantly.
THE NUMBER LINE GAME: SIMPLE, BUT TRANSFORMATIVE
When the parents were asked, “What number is between 3 and 8?” parents didn’t just answer. They discussed. They modeled thinking aloud for their children. They gestured with their hands, moved their bodies, or used the number line in ways that showed deep intuition.
“It’s important that children not only know numbers in order but understand what ‘1’ means.”
— FACILITATORS CONNIE AND BIANKA
That single sentence reframed the entire project for me, helping me see that while schools often teach the sequence and families instinctively teach the meaning, it’s only when those two perspectives meet that children gain true number sense.
NUMBER CARDS: MATH WITHOUT LANGUAGE BARRIERS
We also used number cards during the session, each decorated with small images beneath the numerals—one rocket under the number 1, two rockets under the number 2, and so on. These simple visuals did far more than look cute; they grounded quantity in something concrete and immediately understandable. I could see how powerful they were for both parents and children, especially for families navigating multiple languages. The cards acted like tiny translators, connecting symbols to meaning without needing any words at all.
One mother smiled and reflected, “I’ve seen cards like this before, but now I finally understand how to use them at home.” Moments like that made me realize how small tools—when paired with sensemaking—can completely dismantle the idea that helping with math requires perfect English or high level vocabulary. Sometimes, a rocket and a number are all the language you need.
PUPPET PLAY: WHEN MATH BECOMES RELATIONSHIP
My favorite activity of all was the puppet-making game, a wonderfully chaotic blend of glue sticks, yarn hair, and imagination. Once the puppets were complete, families used them to act out counting stories, with parents deliberately “getting confused” so their children could gleefully set them straight. Even without catching every Spanish word, I could feel the clarity of the moment — the pride in a child’s correction, the laughter in a parent’s pretend mistake, the mutual joy when the puppet finally “got it right.” What I witnessed wasn’t just a math activity, it was sensemaking in its purest form. Parents and children were building understanding together, not by memorizing steps, but by negotiating meaning, noticing patterns, and explaining their thinking in ways that felt natural and alive.
This is where the deeper bridge-building happened. Sensemaking didn’t only help parents explore mathematical ideas—it reshaped communication itself. Parents began talking about math the way teachers hope students will talk in classrooms, and children responded with the kind of confidence usually reserved for home. One parent later said, “I learned that children can complete math tasks by teaching through play,” and another shared that she finally saw “many different ways to form numbers.” Their reflections revealed something important: the puppet activity wasn’t simply a game; it was a moment where school math and home math met in the same language.
Throughout the project, different people’s voices deepened my understanding of what real learning looks like.
PARENTS’ VOICES
As the sessions unfolded, parents began offering insights that revealed not just what they were learning, but how they were redefining themselves as mathematical thinkers. One mother observed, “There are many ways to make numbers ... not just one order.” Another told us, “Now I understand the 10-square table. I had seen it before, but now I know how to use it.” Someone else added, “Games make math easier to talk about,” which to me captured exactly what was happening: math stopped feeling like a performance and started feeling like a conversation. These weren’t comments about mastering content, they were reflections of agency, belonging, and the realization that math could be something they actively make sense of rather than something done to them.
FACILITATORS’ VOICES (BIANKA AND AUDREY)
“What stood out was how parents asked eachother questions. The learning wasn’t just happening for the kids—it was happening for the families.” — BIANKA
Bianka’s words helped me see that these sessions were never about parents “catching up” to school math; they were about reclaiming their voices as thinkers and co-teachers.
Audrey added a perspective that stayed with me even more closely. She shared that her goal was simply “to do something that helps the moms and dads in the room,” starting not with formal math instruction but with meaningful interactions between parents and their children. She believed that when caregivers feel connected, curious, and confident while engaging with their kids, math becomes a natural extension rather than an intimidating subject. “There are so many possibilities,” she told me—possibilities for joy, for discovery, for families to see themselves as powerful partners in learning. Audrey’s vision reminded me that sensemaking is not just about reasoning; it’s about creating the emotional and relational conditions that allow reasoning to flourish.
CHILDREN’S VOICES VS. PARENTS’ VOICES
The evolving dynamic between children and parents revealed its own story of sensemaking. In the first week, children shouted answers with enthusiasm, while parents spoke cautiously, as if unsure they could take up space. But over time, something shifted. Parents grew more confident, and children slowed down, explaining their thinking instead of rushing. Gradually, their voices met in the middle. This balance of confidence and reflection signaled that sensemaking was happening—not just in strategies, but in relationships and identity, as math became a shared conversation between parent and child.
As I looked back on all these interactions—the drawings, the games, the puppet stories, the shared laughter—I began to understand the school–home gap in a new way. It became clear that the gap isn’t created by a lack of knowledge on the parents’ part, it grows out of a lack of shared practices and shared language between schools and families. Parents don’t need more worksheets or more formal explanations of curriculum—they need opportunities to think mathematically with their children, to make sense of ideas together in ways that feel natural and familiar. When families engage in these sensemaking conversations, math becomes something they can inhabit, not something they must perform.
I also saw how sensemaking dissolves fear. When math is framed as noticing, predicting, wondering, and explaining— not merely arriving at the right answer—the entire tone of learning shifts. The anxious question of “Do I know this?” transforms into “What do I see? What do I think? How do I know?” And in that shift, confidence grows almost effortlessly. Parents who once whispered answers began offering ideas with certainty; children who rushed to shout out answers began pausing to explain their reasoning. Sensemaking turned math from a test into an exploration, and I watched families step into that exploration together.
Perhaps the most powerful realization was that families are not simply helpers on the sidelines—they are co-teachers. At the final event, when parents began teaching other parents how to play the same games they had learned, something clicked for me. They weren’t just demonstrating activities; they were stepping into leadership, modeling curiosity, joy, and mathematical thinking for others. This was not the temporary excitement of a single session. This was the beginning of a sustainable bridge between school math and home math—one built not through formal instruction, but through agency, identity, and shared ownership of learning.
As we continue partnering with organizations across Boston Public Schools, I keep returning to this idea of families as true partners in learning. Our goal is no longer to “support” parents in a one-directional sense, but to recognize them as experts in their children’s learning lives and as contributors to the broader educational community. When families learn, teach, and lead alongside us, the cycle becomes self-sustaining: parents build confidence, children see themselves as thinkers, and schools begin to recognize the powerful knowledge that already exists at home.
Sensemaking is the thread stitching all of this together. It turns math into a shared language that flows in both directions—school to home, and home back to school. It transforms families from passive recipients of information into active partners. It turns teaching into relationships, learning into conversation, and mistakes into possibilities. This project changed the way I see education: no longer as something that lives only in classrooms, but as something woven into homes, gestures, stories, and everyday interactions. And I realized that when learning begins in these places—where people already feel connected and curious—it becomes deeper, more joyful, and far more enduring. That, I believe, is where the real learning begins.
Currently TERC is seeking ways to replicate and expand this cycle of learning and teaching with other families. We continue to work closely with the families who participated in the summer training. In addition to leading games at a back- to-school event attended by over 100 families, recently three of these six parents helped lead three training sessions for approximately 35 parents participating in the Parent Mentor program at St. Stephens Youth Program in Boston, MA. Another three of these parents are currently teaching games to students who attend a math club every Tuesday while their parents attend English classes. We see these parents as experts that can help us find ways to make math learning accessible and joyful for all.
These examples point to the potential for broader expansion, as more schools and families take on leadership roles in sharing math game experiences and strengthening a peer-driven model grounded in families’ commitment to their children’s success.
To learn more and explore partnership opportunities visit:
terc.edu/projects/doing-the-math-with-families/
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am deeply grateful to Audrey Martínez-Gudapakkam, Sabrina De Los Santos, Judy Storeygard, Connie Henry, Bianka Cruz, and Amarilys Patrone for welcoming me into this project with such generosity and care. Their guidance shaped not only my observations but also the way I learned to listen—to families, to moments of sensemaking, and to the stories held in the room. I especially want to thank Connie, whose insights as a facilitator helped me understand how joyful and relational math learning can be when families are centered as partners. Special thanks to the parents and children who allowed me to learn alongside them; their voices and laughter made this work come alive. I am also grateful to the Boston University faculty who encouraged me to pursue this opportunity and helped me grow as both a learner and a future educator. Most of all, I want to thank my own family, whose everyday math however informal—continues to remind me where true learning begins.
This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number DRL-2101425. Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.
We are also grateful to Anjali Deshpande from EdVestors for her guidance and support for our family participants.
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