I'm In -- And My Book Might Have Life

Our Second Session

I guess it was delusions of grandeur, or more likely, just delusion that kicked in during the first five minutes of Wednesday's class.

About eight or nine students were in class when I got there and more trickled in. Students started trying to make sense of our previous class. Some quotes from the students:

"I shoulda brought a pillow."
"I feel bad. We were mean."
"What's his name?"
"Maybe we should all leave at five instead of six."

At 4 o'clock, the beginning of class, John Lapeyre, our professor, wasn't there.

I was writing notes about the students when it kicked in. Me thinking: "O.K., a room full of freshmen and sophomores. A whiteboard, this time with markers on the tray. A textbook. No teacher. We have our first quiz on Monday. I bet I could teach the class. It would be cool to go from beginning math student to teaching math in a classroom at a major university within a week."

My mental checklist included how I would involve the students, what I would cover in how much time, how I would introduce myself, when to bring students up to the board, and I began wondering whether or not I should bill Pima College for the two hours. Then Prof. Lapeyre walked in. Dang! Or maybe, Whew! And class started.

The Minimal Math Book for Journalists

The book may not be dead.

Yesterday, during one of the thousand times I checked my email inbox, I noticed the subject line: "math guide for journalists." That got my attention. I clicked and saw this note. (By the way, I thought it would be smart for me not to share the writer's name or her company. If I get to talk with her, I'll ask if I can.) Anyway, here's what she wrote:

Dear Jay (if I may?),

Hi there, greetings from DC. I hope this message finds you well. My name is xxxxxx and I’m the chief acquisitions editor with the college division of xxx Press. Your colleague, David Cuillier, mentioned that you’re interested in writing a brief math guide for journalists. David and I are working together on his book, and he was very nice to let me know about your plans. It sounds like a great project and one I’d be very interested in hearing more about. Have you already drafted a proposal that you’re willing to share? Or would it be useful to you if we spoke on the phone before you started committing ideas to paper? I’d be happy to give you a call—just let me know a convenient time to reach you.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Kind regards,
xxxxxxxx


So, is that cool, or what?

I immediately emailed her back saying I'd like to talk with her. Why not? In what was probably a self-sabotaging move, I also included the thoughts I shared here last week about how good those two other books were and that what I had in mind probably wasn't really needed. Bad marketing on my part.

At the same time, Dave tells me that from the publisher's point of view, it would be good for them to have their own math for journalists book on their list.

I hope she and I get to talk and see where it goes, if anywhere. Plus, she seems like a nice person. I do think it would be useful to have a fun and funny and hopefully easy book for journalists who don't do numbers. I wonder whether "The Dumbed Down Math Book for Journalists," is too close to a copyright violation of the "For Dummies" series.

She hasn't called yet. Dang.

Jumping In

So I opened the little red Swiss army knife on my key chain (fourth in a series -- the others confiscated by homeland security at various airports to protect America) and gently pricked a hole in the plastic that was protecting the book packet (and me). I decided to commit.

The 750 page book felt like it weighed 50 lbs. There was a solutions manual, a cd with videos about math that I haven't opened, a password to get internet access to what I imagine is more instruction. Professor Lapeyre intends to blow off everything except for what's in the book. Fine by me.

As I glanced through the book, it didn't look as overwhelmingly scary as I thought it might. Still, there were plenty of words that got my attention: "functions" always gets me.

"Elimination Using Matrices" made me think of a scary laxative. "

"Radical Expressions." O.K., here's one from the olden days: "Make love, not war."

"Complex Radical Expressions." Marxist theory?

"Synthetic Division." OK, lycra in this pile.

You know how your mind makes up new words toward the end of the game in scrabble? My math book -- just the table of contents -- was already doing that to me.

Section 10.3 read, "Conic Sections: Hyperbolas."

I saw: "Comic Sections: Hyperbole."

Focus, Jay, focus.


Blog Readers

Justin Adler, a former student, has a fun blog called "Where's Paul McPherson?" Right now, Justin is writing about his adventures during a semester abroad in Argentina. He sent some of his readers my way and two of them clicked on and left comments. I think they are readers numbers three and four. Hi guys!

Anthony is working on his MBA and needs to learn about what a derivative is in economics.

Seth who is a UA engineering major wrote, "If your fear of numbers is in any way comparable to my fear for words, I wish you luck! If it helps, I always viewed the desks as a comforting reminder of how many have been in the same position I am sitting in at the moment, and went on to graduate. Tear open that shrink wrap."

Good thoughts Seth. I've never thought of desks that way. Nice insight. You know, you might be a writer even if you don't think so right now.

Gems from John

"If it doesn't work, you draw a line through it and start the next thing."

On taking shortcuts while solving problems: "It's like rock climbing. You can cut corners, but eventually you pay the price."