Now and then, an article lands in my inbox, promising that some technology will remake the classroom. Our schools, apparently, are as outdated as car-phones or medical leeches. It’s time to welcome the flipped classroom, the MOOC, the data-driven world.
It’s not all wrong, I’m sure. But it makes me wonder: How well do we actually know the classroom? Before we start drastic renovations, we should make sure we’ve got a clear view of the structure that’s already in place. And I’m not sure we do.
The story of the classroom is devilishly hard to tell.
We’re always lumping them together, scientists and mathematicians. They’re “STEM” professionals: bespectacled, smart, pleasantly soft-spoken until you conflate Star Trek and Star Wars, after which their wrath is visited upon you.
But the fact is that, aside from being the butt of cheap jokes, mathematicians and scientists don’t share all that much in common.
And you can tell that from the way they look at each other’s fields.
When it comes to research, scientists view mathematics the way a handyman views a toolkit. To a scientist, math is a way of solving problems, as practical as a step-ladder or a roll of duct tape.
…when you run into a college classmate who dropped out after suffering from health issues. You always meant to write a nice, sympathetic letter of support, but it never crested to the top of your to-do list, and now your long silence seems callous. The classmate sees you, looks away, then marches right up to you and asks, point-blank, the question you’ve dreaded for years:
“Why,” your classmate spits, “does raising both sides of an algebraic equation to an even power potentially introduce extraneous solutions?”
…you’ve already skimmed every worthwhile article in the newspaper. You completed the crossword, the Sudoku, even the word jumble. Grudgingly, you turn to the paper’s last remaining puzzle: the Partial Differential Equation of the Day.
Existing Law: For every action, there shall be an equal and opposite reaction.
New Law: For every action, there shall be a vicious and disproportionate reaction, followed by many months of inaction.
To start the year, I wanted to see what my students thought of mathematics. Is it pleasure or pain, hobby or hurdle, adventure or adversity? Or is it something else entirely, something that perhaps doesn’t come in alliterative pairs?
So I gave them a survey, asking them to complete the following six sentences.
- Mathematics is…
- Mathematics is not…
- Mathematics is useful for…
- Mathematics is useless for…
- My favorite thing about mathematics is…
- My least favorite thing about mathematics is…
Their answers spanned the whole spectrum of attitudes, from rapture to resignation, from joyful to jilted. (Apologies for the alliteration; I can’t contain it. Clearly.) Here’s a small sampling selection smattering collection of their answers, in all their silly wit and strange variety.
…playing with numbers.
…a long word for “maths.”
Man—I had a whole, scathing essay written and ready to go.
The title: The SAT Changed Their Guessing Policy to Appear Fairer, But It’s Actually Less Fair. “With the ACT pulling ahead in the admissions test Cola Wars,” I wrote, “I struggle to greet the SAT’s announced changes with anything but cynicism.”
I was halfway into the boxing ring when I realized I was on the wrong side of the fight.
This little fable is about the SAT’s “guessing penalty,” and while it’s a tale full of technicalities, I promise it’ll end with a moral. A moral so obvious, it’s surprising.
Or perhaps vice versa: so surprising, it’s obvious. Continue reading