Branden Morris has taught at a few schools, and he's noticed something that cuts to the heart of why math scores stall. "But people definitely are okay with bragging about not being able to do math," he says. It's cultural. It's accepted. And at Du Quoin High School, that acceptance had to change.

The scores told the story first. After COVID, Du Quoin's math performance dropped—dropped hard—and unlike other schools in the region, they weren't recovering at the same rate. By spring 2021, math teacher Leah Winter felt the weight of it. "Our scores really dropped after COVID," she says. "By a lot. And we were not recovering like other schools."

The concern wasn't just acute. It was becoming chronic.

So, the math department did what good teams do: they stopped, looked at the problem, and decided to solve it together. Assistant Principal Zachary Jones made sure the issue didn't stay theoretical. In fact, Leah credits his data-driven approach with much of the success they’re seeing now. The district improvement plan became their roadmap. They identified students close to meeting benchmarks. They implemented ACT practice across all levels—algebra one, geometry, pre-calculus. And they built it into the fabric of every class period.

Leah changed her entire approach. Where she used to hit ACT prep hard right before test day, she now starts every class with a bell ringer—an actual ACT problem pulled from old tests. "Every day," she says. It's not graded. It's not pressure. It's practice becoming habit.

The bell ringers work like this: between passing periods, students use the restroom, grab what they need. When the bell rings, the problem is already on the board. They work it before the lesson begins. Branden explains it simply: "If they get it wrong, they learn from their mistake."

But the real shift wasn't just instructional. It was cultural—and it required honesty about what wasn't working. Leah points to the disconnect between middle school and high school. "There's communication," she says, "but there's not constant communication." Recently, she attended a conference with the middle school teacher who handles high-level math for grades five through eight. They had what she calls "a lot of great conversations" about filling gaps. When that communication increases, she says, "we're going to be able to fill that in and, you know, hopefully improve scores throughout the district."

Samantha Gregory teaches algebra one and Math 115, a dual-credit course through John A. Logan College that prepares students for the trades. Her students visit John A. Logan College to explore welding, automotive, construction. In her class, they work bell ringers too, and she tells them why: "We are growing as a school. We are trying to improve as a school across the board." And her students? "They are really invested with it, and they are really trying hard."

It's working, this investment. Not just in test prep, but in how students see themselves. Emily McKinney, who teaches geometry and algebra, sees students stop relying solely on common sense and start using actual procedures to solve problems. She also sees the damage done when parents, often unintentionally, pass down their own math anxiety. "My mom can't help me with my math homework. She wasn't good at math. I'm not good at math," Emily says, echoing what students tell her. "The minute that parents stop being able to help their kids, then their kids think they can't do it either."

Still, there are victories. Mathletes placed third at a competition at Southwestern Illinois College. Six out of seven students passed the AP Calculus exam last year. And on spring nights, the entire department showed up—each teacher ran a study session, John Vercellino created sample ACT problems, and Zach ordered pizza for every kid who came.

The test changed last year—from SAT to ACT—and the cut scores shifted, so they won't really know if all this work paid off until next year's results. But instructional coach John Vercellino, who teaches college biology, isn't worried. The math department proved that the professional learning community model works "if you do it with efficacy."

Samantha, who has taught at other schools, puts it plainly: "This math department, the PLCs that we had last year, they were a joy to be a part of. I mean, every single person in here wants the best for the kids and they do everything that they can to help out."

Zach tried to make his team competitive about it—framing ACT scores the way Du Quoin frames sports. "We want to win conference in math," he told them. "We want to win conference in English, we want to win conference in science."

And maybe they will. But right now, the win is simpler: they're all moving. Together. Toward something better than accepting that math is just hard and some people aren't good at it.

Because at Du Quoin, they don't brag about what they can't do anymore.

They work.