Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Parallels

Jerry Droege

I'm having lunch on Friday with Jerry Droege. He's an M.D. who left his practice of 22 years to pursue a math degree. He got started two and a half years ago. Right now he is working at the University of Arizona Lunar and Planetary Lab and is part of the Phoenix Mars Mission. I don't know any details yet but look forward to learning about him.

He was an OBGYN. I'm really curious about what happened. Hopefully he'll tell me about it and allow me to share it with you.

When he answered my email asking for a visit, among other things, he said, "What a gift you can give yourself - it's all WONDERFUL!"

---------------------------------------------

Don Saari

I wrote to Professor Saari thanking him for letting me sit in on his lunch session. I was delighted that he wrote me back.

There was one young woman at that lunch who challenged some of the things she was learning. Prof. Saari gave her his email address and invited her to contact him. He wrote to me, "My deep hope is that she steps up to my challenge; if so, I will try to help her unleash the creativity that normally is suppressed in traditional school training."

That's an inspiring teacher. I wish I had that passion and generosity.

He went on to write, "In my opinion, faculty, both in mathematics and in journalism, should explore ways to do more of that 'unleashing' of creativity."

Dr. Saari then referred me to a piece he wrote in August, 1991 recounting an experience he had as a guest speaker in a fourth grade class.

He then wrote:

"I fully believe that much of what we do in the classroom is directed toward indoctrinating the students with technical approaches rather than encouraging them to think.

"By the way, (that piece) was written in 1991; since then I have carried out the same experiment in several fourth, fifth, and sixth grade classrooms usually with a similar reaction. The one exception was when a teacher jumped into the discussion (to reprimand a boy whose only crime was being "overly creative" in his answer); her action dampened the spirit of adventure as it established her as a "authority figure." From that point on, rather than exploring ideas, the kids threw out multiple answers and looked to her to select the correct one.

"Also, I have discovered that this experiment rarely works with kids who are in the seventh grade or above; by that age they have been indoctrinated about the way to vote.

"Your comment about what I said during that lunch session and how it resonated with what you do probably reflects the reality that, well, both of us are exploring how we can discover and express the truth. As a way to try to compare the two worlds, maybe we should equate those algebra problems that have a precise answer with a news article on the back page of a newspaper that reports a court listing of traffic violations where, indeed, in both cases there usually is a single correct answer.

"The more complicated issues -- both in journalism and in mathematics -- usually have many different ways of being examined. For instance, I enjoyed what you said about feature writing; it ties in quite closely with what we (mathematicians) should be trying to do with the far too many unanswered important mathematical issues that are out there. Namely, we try -- or we should try --- to understand how to relate those relevant concepts that we do understand in a manner that will help us, and others, understand what is going on.

"Just as you described for feature writing, rather than a single approach, there are many mathematical ways in which this can be done.

"I bet there are many parallels in our two worlds."

Even if I never take another math class, my exposure to Prof. Saari made this semester worth it. I intend to write him back soon, if only to ask his permission to share his correspondence with you.

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Learning math

I sorta can't believe it, but more of this stuff is coming easier.

I'm on page 375 of this nearly 800 page math textbook and I'm not drowning. That amazes me every minute.

Chapter six, is called "Rational Expressions, Equations, and Functions. (I like that they use the serial comma). The section I'm working on is called Complex Rational Expressions. They look scary, but they're not. There just more steps (lots more) to getting through them. I'll put a picture of a page on the blog sometime soon so you can see. It won't be a pretty picture.

We had a quiz on Monday and I think I did really well. I know I made at least one arithmetic error, but I knew how to do everything on the test.

And what's even more surprising for me is that I'm trying to find time to work on the problems in the book, but especially online. If the time was there, it feels like I could put in many hours a day and enjoy learning new stuff. Go figure?

I was listing with Gail all the things that I am letting slide, partly because of taking time to learn algebra. I can't believe that bicycling, photography, music, hiking, the vegetable garden, learning new multimedia software, and preparing a book proposal for Charisse are all in line behind the actual studying of what is basically high school algebra II.

In the meantime, I'm still not making sense of what this is all for, besides my own amusement.

I'm equating learning math with the acquisition of a new language. People who are lucky enough to be multilingual tell me that languages open up all kinds of new worlds, ideas, and people that you wouldn't have been exposed to otherwise. I get it about spoken and written languages. I can even imagine what people are talking about when they say the same kinds of things about the language of music. But, I still am not even beginning to form a picture of how that metaphor applies to the language of mathematics.

Friday, October 24, 2008

How people think

Partly because I was curious about what might happen next, I arranged a visit with the math student advisor to discuss, among other things, college algebra.

I had no idea when I set it up, I would get to enjoy one of my most inspiring hours in months.


But first, another math quote:

"You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I'm not hungry enough to eat six." -- Yogi Berra. I wonder whether Yogi even saw a tenth of the quotes attributed to him.

My UA Math Advisor

My appointment was at 11:30 a.m. in the Math Building with advisor Marcy DeWeese.

I don't think I was intimidated or anything, but once I found the elevator, I kept pushing the wrong button to call it. I finally found the right one and pushed it. But then I noticed the stairs and took them to the second floor.

I knocked on the door of room 202, Marcy's office. She opened it a crack and said she'd be with me in a minute. She was with another student.
As I sat outside her door I noticed a flier on a wall featuring a very attractive woman and the headline read, "Math Doesn't Suck." Well, good to know. Turns out it was promoting a book called, Math Doesn't Suck: How to Survive Middle School Math Without Losing Your Mind or Breaking a Nail , by Dancia McKellar. I checked the book's Amazon ranking, and it's up there. Not bad for a 320 page book about math.

In just a couple of minutes a petite and energetic 50 year old with tons of energy and a great smile welcomed me in to her office. I liked her immediately. We talked about marathons (she's done more than 10), El Tour de Tucson (she did the 85 mile version last year), and about the UA advisor's we knew in common.

Then we talked about math degrees. There is a lot to it and a lot that I really don't want to bother with -- things outside of math that they make the undergraduates take so they can be well rounded. Marcy told me that she imagined that many of my general studies courses from nearly 40 years ago might count. OK, we'll face that problem when I'm well into my 60s if I pass a couple of classes. Meanwhile, she told me, the next class I need to take is math 112, college algebra. Check.

But, more important, Marcy told me about a current student who I might be interested in knowing. a 50-year-old MD was pursuing a math degree. I can't wait to talk to him about sanity. Since Marcy is not allowed to give me his name or contact info, I gave her mine and asked her to pass it along to that doctor and invite him to call or email me. I hope he does.

I got up, thanked Marcy, and stepped outside her door. And, that's when fate (not that I believe in that) stepped in.

One of the professors I most admire in the whole university is Bill Velez. He is a math professor who I've never had but have assigned stories about and have photographed. He has been on the top of the list of people I have wanted to talk to about my own math adventure and about my book idea. Of course, I haven't done it yet.

So, as soon as I'm out of Marcy's door and turn to look for the stairs, I notice Bill walking around the corner. I immediately went up to him and reminded him who I was and told him how I've been meaning to eamil. We chatted for a moment and after he asked what I was up to, I told him I was taking intermediate algebra through Pima College and was hoping to take college algebra through the UA next semester.
That conversation really didn't go anywhere except that he invited me to set up a time when we could talk. But he told me they were having a pizza lunch right then with math students and a professor from UC Irvine. Would I like to join in? Sure!

He had Santa Claus eyes and a white beard, but it was short. He didn't say Ho! Ho! Ho!, but his demeanor did. When I walked in, he was going around the informal lounge asking the fifteen or students about themselves and their interests in math. He engaged every student and encouraged their thinking.
When I walked in the room, I had no idea that the speaker was a big time, internationally respected (and possibly revered) mathematician. Donald G. Saari is now a professor at the University of California, Irvine and director of their Institute for Mathematical Behavioral Sciences. He is a member of the National Academy of Sciences, has written and published 10 books and more than 160 articles, and is a Guggenheim fellow. And, for more than 20 years, during his tenure at Northwestern University, he served as Santa Claus at department Christmas parties.

One girl said she was taking micro-economics but didn't care for it. Professor Saari asked why. She explained that she could do the math easily enough but she thought there was a disconnect between what models predict and real life. The prof jumped on the thought and said she was so right. He agreed. But that's why math was so important.
When he came to me I explained a lot of what I've already written about here but also added how much I enjoy being exposed to people who are not part of my regular world, people who look at the world in ways that I may not even yet imagine, you know, unusual people. He smiled and glanced around at the math students and said, "I think he just called all of us strange." They all laughed.
Then he asked me, "How do you tell the difference between a an introverted and an extroverted mathematician?" I knew the answer but wasn't quick enough to get it out correctly. So, bailing me out, he said, when you're having a conversation, "the extrovert looks at your shoes instead of his."
I asked him, what has become a regular question when I'm around scientists or mathematicians, "Is there a term to describe when people trust their assumptions and the math is correct, and therefore they believe their conclusion, but the real world conclusion is absurd on its face?"
Without skipping a beat he said, "Yes. Wishful thinking!"
But then, more seriously he said, "If the model doesn't match the reality, you look at the data. You look at the assumptions."
Earlier in the week, while I was still deciding whether or not to take another math class, I was thinking more about the math experience generally. I certainly wasn't spending all this time just to learn some mechanics with numbers or even what buttons to push on a calculator to solve a complicated looking equation. What I was really curious about was how mathematicians see the world, or how I could look at the world or a situation the way a mathematician would. How mathematicians think.
I know how to look at the world as a journalist and as a photographer. During high school and my first two years of college, I could look at the world through the eyes of a poet and a play write. Most of my motivation for getting an MBA was to figure out how business people think. I figured it out, but don't do it. And when I went through my Ph.D. program and wrote my dissertation, the biggest challenge for me was to see the world through academic eyes. I don't think I ever quite got it. Besides those, I imagine there are lots of filters or points of view with which people make sense of the world. Scary ones such as religious lenses. Slightly less scary ones such as a political or economic take on everything. But for some reason, I couldn't even begin to put together a way to describe how I thought a mathematician would make sense of day to day living, relationships, or being happy and making other people happy, much less the world at large.
Then, coming back to my own little adventure with the abstract and The Minimalist Math Book, I wondered whether there might be something more valuable than knowing the difference between the mean and the median that journalists could learn from mathematicians. Could math provide any new ways to ask questions? To structure narratives? To make sense of a larger story? Or a smaller story? Of course, I didn't know, but I was curious.
So you might understand my internal Wow!" reaction when Professor Saari, with complete passion and conviction, tempered by a smile his happy light blue Santa eyes, said, "Mathematics is a way of thinking. It's a way of living."
That's when said, "damn" and told myself never go anywhere without my tape recorder again.
But I did have my fountain pen and notebook.
Professor Saari went on to assert that mathematics is the only academic discipline where we can predict what might happen six or seven levels ahead of what other people are looking at. And, he said, mathematicians can do that in any discipline. You can land in a field, look at their equations the describe their observations, and discuss it at the most sophisticated levels, he said.
That's kinda like what reporters do, except we figure out how to ask good questions and then try to translate the answers.
During the conversation I told Professor Saari that when I talk to my journalism students, I always tell them that in approaching a feature story, there is never one right answer. There might be a hundred right answers. Same with photography. There are a thousand ways to photograph a face. I said, one of the things that intrigued me about math was the idea that there was just one right answer. But, I said, that's probably not true. Would he talk about that?
He jumped all over my remark.
What I think I heard him say was that for problems where you have an equation on a blackboard, sure, there is likely one right answer. And nearly anyone who knows the mechanics can get there.
However, when you are taking a mathematical approach to big problems, problems that exist in the real world, the exciting thing about math is how many ways it offers to examine questions, in fact, even to find questions.
"Every time you look at something in a different way, you will have new results."
He said "taking a fresh approach" is one of the strongest things a mathematician does. "If you don't, all you do is end up modifying standard approaches."
He told a couple of stories about how he encourages his graduate students to find new questions and new solutions.
He said he doesn't allow his graduate students to immediately read academic papers through from beginning to end. He allows them to read the introduction or an abstract that simply describes the problem. Then he asks his grad students to come up with their own ways to solve that problem and to come up with new questions that solving the problem might pose. Then, finally, they can read the whole paper. Saari's concern was, that once students read a paper by an "academic expert" they would be stuck thinking about the problem only in the terms that the researcher defined. He said that encourages students to find their own way to approach a problem.
That describes part of the reason I don't use a textbook in my feature writing class. Most of the books I've examined, prescribe one formula about how to write a feature story. That formula often works for a whole lot of people, but for lots of others, it doesn't.
I was surprised at how frequently he used phrases to describe things I've tried to suggest to my own student.
He advocated: Simple problems, simple solutions.
I've always used the phrase: Simple but elegant.
He said when one of his graduate students is stuck, he makes them try to explain the problem in terms that a 9th grader could understand. To illustrate, he asked several students in the room to explain the calculus term, "limits" in simple terms. They couldn't. Professor Saari could. "Limit - using information to predict what will happen."
Then he asked about the term, "continuity." Same result. The students couldn't answer in simple English. Saari could. "Continuity -- if what you predict would happen, happens."
During the entire hour my book was in the back of my mind. Was I thinking too narrowly? Was it worth putting together a book that at least two other people have already written and published that basically gives recipes to journalists about how to perform some basic numerical mechanics? Could I include that useful stuff, but also more.
Professor Saari concluded his visit by saying, as a mathematician, "The goal is not to solve difficult problems. It's to influence the way people think."

Monday, October 20, 2008

Reps

I want to use the summation ∑ in my title partly because that symbol has always frightened me but also using it might let me show off my first mathematical pun.

I wonder what the focus group will think about:

In ∑: The Minimal Math Book for Journalists

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Dave Robbins, one of my students in Border Beat sent me some of his favorite quotes about math. I'll post some of them here over the next few posts. You may have already heard some, but they are all fun. And as with most quotations, verification is hard to come by.

"Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical." Yogi Berra.

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Today, I went with my class that produces Border Beat for training. We were all learning about a video editing program called Final Cut Pro. Afterward, as I walked toward my algebra class with a couple of my own students we talked about the session.

The consensus was that the best way to learn new software was to bang your head against the wall and keep struggling until you got it. That way it would stick. We all seemed to agree listening to a lecture was nice, but almost nothing sticks.

At class today, some things stuck and other things didn't. Even though I thought I understood everything on today's quiz, I messed up something on four out of five of the questions. My excuse was that I rushed because I didn't want to again be the last person done. So I got about half of the answers half right.

After class I was talking to John the prof about how I am realizing how much time it should take to get a feel for the different things we were learning and how watching him solve a problem on the board is nice, and often illuminating, but it seems like you have to do a type of problem over and over and over just to absorb it.

John seemed to agree and said he never got much out of math or physics lectures. But, he asked me, Wasn't it the same thing for writing? I said I didn't think so because in writing there might be a hundred right answers about how to tell a given story. John responded saying he remembered Stephen King saying something about having to write for eight hours a day for years and then maybe you'll have a shot at being a good writer.

This was King's actual quote:

"Read and write four to six hours a day. If you cannot find the time for that, you can't expect to become a good writer."

It's from a short essay called "Everything You Need to Know About Writing Successfully - in Ten Minutes." This version was reprinted in Sylvia K. Burack, ed. The Writer's Handbook. Boston, MA: Writer, Inc., 1988: 3-9. I found this on what looks like a blog entry by someone named J. Dowell.

John got me thinking. Perhaps he had a point. I had been telling my feature writing students over and over again that they don't have a clue about how much work it takes to write well. Maybe I've been telling them the truth. My math professor thinks so and he is in some pretty good company.

I plan to share the essay with my class on Wednesday.

In the meantime, I need to really think about how much work it will (should) be to write The Minimal Math Book for Journalists.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Algebra by the Bay

Is this sick?

I really did intend to write a first draft of a book proposal this weekend. Gail and I were in Kino Bay, Sonora and I had plenty of time. But something else got in the way and it surprised me.

Rather than needing to sit down and start typing a book proposal, I wanted to study algebra. We are blasting through linear inequalities and getting into polynomials. I found myself preferring to learn about those things instead. I also asked myself, "is this sick, or what?"

Even worse, there were plenty of other great things to do. I had a stack of New Yorker magazines that I hadn't gotten to, several issues of the Neiman Reports, and the New York Review of Books, all waiting to be read. Not to mention a beautiful beach to walk on and a great fishing village and estuary to take pictures of.

But no, I mainly wanted to start getting a feel for polynomials. I think it's weird also.

But, I am actually learning new things every day and that is kind of addicting.

Plus, I've got my great new calculator to play with.

The HP 40gs is (I suppose) a great calculator that I am just getting a feel for. About 90% of what it can do, I haven't even heard of yet. That makes the 400+ page manual a little more manageable. I spend a whole lot of hours trying to learn how to do even the simplest algebra problems on it. I think it could be more intuitive.

I've thought about what's going on. I've considered brain damage. My aunt, Harriet Rochlin, has told me stories about older friends of hers who develop new interests and talents and loose others as their brains age and change. Some have developed musical talent, some art. So I'm thinking, why not math?

I've always been curious about new worlds and feel especially alive when I'm either learning or creating. Right now, for me, math is a new world and I certainly am learning. Not creating, but that might come later.

The first exam

John handed our first exam back to us on Wednesday and I didn't do bad -- 21 out of 24. I knew how to do just about everything on the test but (of course) messed up on arithmetic. I am getting better though. I can tell.

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The Minimal Math Book for Journalists

Tom's Idea

Joe Sharkey is a new friend. He writes a column for the New York Times about business travel. The Times published a column by Joe on October 13, 2008 that included a simple subtraction mistake. He was off by $100.

Here is the offending paragraph:

"For my aborted trip to Aspen, I’d booked on Continental from Newark to Denver. The round-trip advance-purchase fare was $375. Reusing the ticket later will incur a $150 change fee, leaving me with $125 to apply toward another ticket."

At a lunch with Tom Miller, Ted Robbins, and me, Joe said he had received more than 100 email messages complaining or at least commenting about the error. We all thought that was interesting and in some ways encouraging, but didn't give it that much more thought. But afterward, Tom had an idea for me.

Tom suggested that I write to Joe asking whether he would be willing to let me see some of those comments. Some might be eloquent and describe just why it matters that journalists get math or even simple arithmetic right, every single time. Others might be angry. There might be some funny emails . In any event, at least 100 New York Times readers both noticed the error and took the time to write to the author about it.

I have Joe's email address and hope to write to him tomorrow or Tuesday. I'll let you know what he says.

How Ralph found me

You remember Ralph Hanson ? He is chair of the Department of Communication at the University of Nebraska at Kearney. Last week he wrote saying good things about CQ Press and inviting me to call him to talk about his experience with them. Of course I was curious about how he found me and knew about my book idea. I imagined (hoped?) that Charisse and he had been talking about my idea and she gave him my contact information, maybe even encouraging him to talk them up a little.

So, on Tuesday or Wednesday I gave Ralph a call. It's funny how even an imaginary book deal can go to your head, or mine.

Mystery solved.

No, Charisse and Ralph did not spend any time discussing my book idea. Charisse didn't give Ralph my contact information. Turns out that Ralph has a google alert set for "CQ Press." When I first mentioned the press here a couple of weeks ago, it launched Ralph's alert and he clicked here and read all about it. Then, he was simply nice enough to send me an email inviting me to talk.

By the way, he has had only good experiences working with CQ Press and went on and on about how inspiring it is to work with Charisse at the press.

And, speaking about Charisse, she sent me a quick and encouraging response to my last note.

Here's what she said:

-----------
Thanks for your email Jay--

good to hear from you and to know how the idea continues to percolate. I appreciate that you only want to commit to a project like this if you think you've got an original take on the subject and can do justice to it, as well as make some money along the way. Happy to keep having the conversation and look forward to seeing what you put down on paper.

I saw the New Yorker blurb you mention below and chuckled. I love it when they have a little space available at the end of a long article and drop in one of these gems.

Best,
Charisse

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OK, I have a quiz in algebra class tomorrow. It doesn't stop. And just to give myself one more thing to consider, I need to decide whether I want to take "College Algebra" next semester. Registration starts this week.


Monday, October 13, 2008

Seeds

The Minimal Math Book for Journalists

I finally wrote back to Charisse at CQ Press. Here's most of what I said:

--------------------------------------

Dear Charisse,

First let me apologize for not writing this note sooner.

I want to tell you how much I enjoyed and appreciated our conversation. Not that it will happen, but I'd love to be able to sit around and talk about ideas and books with you sometime.

I also want to thank you for your time and for thinking about my idea.

My intention is to work up a proposal, partly for you, but mainly to commit to a direction for me. I want to get that written soon, but who knows. Between the classes I'm teaching, the class I'm taking, keeping up on reading, squeezing in some time or bicycling and hiking, and being lucky enough to have a great wife and son who I love spending time with, this is not as high on the list as it might be.

I'm trying to figure out whether or not I can write a book that is fun to read and might be read by people who aren't forced to read it by teachers. And, to be honest, I want a commercially successful book. I don't care about getting tenure and my ego is in fine shape. If I do take the effort to write a book and if it is good enough, I want it to be useful, contribute to the field, be a good read, but also make money for both CQ and me.

In any event, I've been thinking about it every day.

I hope you have a great week.

Jay

-----------------------------------------------------

She hasn't responded. I guess there is really no reason for her to until I send her something to react to.

------------------------------------------------------

But, in the meantime, I received a totally random email from someone named Ralph Hanson. The subject line said "CQ Press."

As you might imagine, that got my attention.

Turns out, Ralph Hanson is chair of the Department of Communication at the University of Nebraska at Kearney. His note said:

-------------------------------------------------------

Hey, Jay,

If you are interested in pursuing a book with CQ Press you can give me a call at my office. I've been with CQ Press for a couple of years now, and they are a wonderful outfit to work with.

Ralph

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Well, cool. So perhaps Charisse and Ralph were talking and she mentioned my idea and that I was blogging about my math class and my book in its barely post conception stage and he googled me and landed here. Or, way unlikely, he randomly found this site. Either way, it was neat to get that note. I checked out his blog and web site and it turns out, he and I have a lot to talk about.

I replied saying:

--------------------------------------------------------

Dear Ralph,

Thanks for your note. I will call you. I appreciate the offer. Are there better
or worse times or should I just take my chances?

Meantime, I noticed your request for student blogs. I teach a class where my
students produce an online publication called Border Beat --
http://borderbeat.net/. As part of their requirements, each student has to
create a blog about a particular topic (their choice) that relates to the
border and post once a week during the semester.

A list of the blogs is at --

http://borderbeat.net/story/show/354

Some are strong. Some aren't. But they seem to be getting comfortable in an
online environment.

If you're interested in the syllabus for the course, you can find it on the left
panel of my site: jayrochlin.com.

Again, thanks for taking the time to write and for your generous offer to visit
about publishing with CQ Press. I enjoyed my phone conversation with Charisse
and hope to talk with her again soon. I'm going to Mexico on Thursday and hope
to put some thoughts on paper that I hope will form the beginning of a formal
proposal.

Best regards,

Jay

-----------------------------------------------------

I'll let you know if we talk or if he writes back.

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This evening I was at a reception put on by Jan Harelson, chair of the University of Arizona Department of Journalism Advisory Council. It's made up a small but great group of volunteers who care about our department and are doing their best to try to raise money for us. The get-together was for faculty and members to get to know each other better.

During the course of the evening we all had to introduce ourselves, tell about our teaching, and let them know about our most recent and compelling research interests and activities. Well, some of my colleagues, besides being great people, are pretty heavy duty on the national scene in journalism scholarship. Books, international research projects, journal articles, honors, titles in professional organizations. When it came around to me, I had to say something more substantial than how much fun my students seem to be having producing their online magazine. So, I just blurted out, "and I'm in discussions with the chief acquisitions editor of CQ press about a book about math for journalists." Dang! Why did I have to say that out loud? Several of the members came up to me afterward saying they thought it was a good idea and really necessary. Thanks.

The Algebra Test

This time I was the second to last student finished. All but one of the students finished in what seemed like no time. Lucky them, I guess.

The test had only six or seven problems on it and I knew how to do them all.

But, sure enough, in trying to figure out the simultaneous equation in three variables, I got a different answer every time I tried. I thought I knew the steps and I made myself go slowly and deliberately, but in five tries, I got all different answers. And, in this case, five tries meant 15 different answers. I gave up when I at least got each of the three variables ending up as whole numbers.

Afterward, John, the other student, and I had a great discussion about math in general and figuring out the universe. I confessed to John about being a Big Bang Atheist. I wanted to know whether he knew of a term that describes the situation when all the math is correct and you believe your assumptions, but the conclusion is something that is absurd on its face, like the Big Bang. John, being a smart physicist, knows a lot about that kind of stuff but he didn't know a word for that. We still had a fun talk. I asked him whether I could conduct a real interview with him on tape about those kinds of things and he said sure. I hope we can put that together soon.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Right and Wrong

Time,time, time

One thing I try to impress on my journalism students is how much time and effort it takes to be good. We read feature stories by Pulitzer prize winners, some of whom have been writing professionally for twenty years or more. Some of the stories we read might have taken the writer months of hard work to get done -- research and rewrite after rewrite, with the help of top notch editors.

I have speakers, all professional writers, come into class and they say the same thing. And, almost to a person, my students think they can conduct two or three fifteen minute interviews, compile some notes, and write a credible story the night before their deadlines. It doesn't work.

So, I shouldn't be surprised by how much time I'm needing to put into my algebra class, just to (barely) keep up. But I am surprised and not really accepting it. I am, also to my surprise, understanding much of the stuff, but it is taking more time than I imagined. And, no telling what's sticking.

I am resenting the time. I'd rather be doing almost anything outdoors especially bicycling. I rather be reading the wonderful publications I receive every week. But at the same time, I am enjoying learning new things.

This weekend I sort of got a handle on solving and graphing "systems of linear inequalities." As they say, "don't ask."

Right and Wrong

I am enjoying the the idea of right and wrong answers. At this level, it is so clean. You follow the steps and you get the right answer. If you don't, you don't.

When my students turn a writing assignment in to me, there are a hundred right ways they could have approached and written the story. There are rules, but beyond a very early phase, it's subjective. I force myself to judge their stories and assign them grades. Likely another teacher would have judged differently. And a third, even more differently. John looks at our math test and the answer is either right or wrong.

Motivation

A new camera or lens always worked for photography. A nice new fountain pen (less well) for writing. Why not a new calculator to re-motivate me about math?

So, while I should have been solving problems and preparing for tomorrow's test, I spent time on the web reading about whether I should by a TI-84 plus silver edition, TI-89 Titanium, or HP 40gs. Seth told me I should by the TI-89. That's what got him through high school and college. Most of my classmates have the TI-84. My HP-12C, the business calculator, got me through my MBA and might as well be new more than 20 years later, so I went with the HP 40gs, their student-level graphing calculator. I can't wait to get it.

The book

I still haven't gotten back to Charisse at CQ Press, even to thank her for taking the time to talk to me on the phone. I guess I'm conflicted about whether I want to take the next step. And I'm really conflicted about whether I want to take the next three steps. It would be fun to try, but at the same time, that's a lot of work for hardly any money, or fun. Plus, if I'm taking up all of my spare time learning math, how will find time to write about it. On the other hand, a new book about math for journalists could do a lot of good, give me something solid to work on, and open up other doors.

Our first exam

John is giving us our first tomorrow. Rather than review, I've been pushing forward. I hope not too much is falling off the back. I'll report back.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

360 degrees of Wisdom

Seth told me about this quote:

"We're going to turn this team around 360 degrees."

-NBA Star who played college basketball for Berkeley, Jason Kidd upon being traded to the Dallas Mavericks

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I found this one:

"[My] career was sputtering until [I] did a 360 and got headed in the right direction."

- NBA star Tracy McGrady, after signing with the Orlando Magic.

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No telling about the veracity of these quotes. I couldn't find original sources or even any attribution to a printed or broadcast source from any of the (many) web sites that listed these quotes.

In any event they're funny.

Now I'm on the lookout for more -- hopefully out of journalism. If not, good funny quotes from public people who (mis)use numbers will be great. If you notice any, please sent them my way: rochlin@arizona.edu.

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John told our algebra class today that it's normal to feel as if we were drowning. He said he felt that way learning math. But, he said hopefully, we will be surprised by how much we will have learned by the end of the semester if we stick it out.

There are already lots of things I can do now that I couldn't three weeks ago. That feels good. I probably could have scored plenty of percentile points higher on my Law School Admissions Test when I was 22 if I knew this stuff. I might have actually been accepted into law school and really messed up my life.

Unfortunately, I'm also learning that progress rises in direct proportion to the amount of time invested in the pursuit of that learning. That can be put into a simple mathematical formula where x=amount learned and t=time invested: (f)x=t.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

The Point of No Return

Here's an example of the kind of thing I've been struggling with all day:

"A plane is flying the 3458-mi trip from New York City to London has a 50-mph tailwind. The flight's point of no return is the point at which the flight time required to return to New York is the same as the time required to continue to London. If the speed of the plane in still air is 360-mph, how far is New York from the point of no return?" (Bittinger, Intermediate Algebra, 7th ed).

If that brings you back to SAT nightmares, me too.

"Attention to detail" is an area I've never scored high on in recommendations. It hasn't mattered at all, until now.

This has been a frustrating zillion hours going over math exercises. The frustrating part isn't the theory, it's the execution. I'm being fairly fast about picking up what I have to do. I can usually set up the word problems. And I'm happily amazed that (unlike Spanish) a good amount of this stuff seems to be sticking. But once I start doing the numbers, I screw up something tiny and there goes another quarter hour.

Of course I can't help but to hope that my carelessness is just a result of lack of practice, rather than a symptom. I'm wondering whether you can learn to do the details. At the same time, I also wonder if I learn how to think about and care about and be careful about details, could that mess up my fun "out there" thinking.

At the same time, I'm enjoying the struggle. In class I was chatting with a guy who had racked up a million or so points on his cell phone game. He concentrates, works hard, and has gotten good at it. I'm thinking of the chapters in my math book as different levels of a video game (minus the graphics). I'm getting better, am I slow.

Seth doesn't get it at all about why I want to learn algebra. I haven't given him a good answer. To amuse myself? Not liking being an idiot in a whole world of knowledge. The blind faith belief that you can't go wrong investing time or money in learning something new? Getting the shit scared out of myself every time I can't remember some one's name?

There is another quiz on Monday and I'm behind.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

I Finished Last

I was the last one to finish Wednesday's quiz.

But first - -

The Oct. 6, 2008 issue of the New Yorker magazine included this great inch worth of copy:

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Statistical Department

From an article in the Pueblo (Colo.) Chieftain about a retired schoolteacher seeking a seat on the State Board of Education.

"The top half of the students are well-educated, the bottom half receive extra help but the middle half we are leaving out," she said.

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Gail suggested that "What out for that Middle Half" be a candidate for my book's title, or at least a chapter.

But back to the classroom.

I knew how to do every problem on the quiz, but I was slow and don't know why. A few of the students blasted through the five problems and turned in their papers before I was even through reading the first.

I plodded through using extra typing paper and graph paper. I think I got the answers right. Hopefully John will have the papers graded and will return them on Monday.

I missed only one thing on the first quiz -- that dumb mistake adding 3x2 instead of multiplying. John only took off half a point so I got 14 1/2 out of 15. Not bad.

Meantime, I was concerned that we would not get through the book and be unprepared for college algebra if we landed there next semester.

What to do about it?

Well, since I know how to organize better than solve linear functions, I worked up a schedule for the rest of the semester including exactly when we do each chapter and when quizzes, tests, and the final should take place. I took language from my own syllabus and rewrote it for a math environment and found out and included information about all the tutoring and video support help Pima College offers.

John couldn't have been a better sport. He thanked me for doing that work and agreed that we'd have to make it through a chapter a week for the rest of the semester.

Steve Cox put it in perspective. "So you're the annoying old guy, huh?"

Well yes, but I still hope John takes some of my suggestions. I like him a lot and I have a lot to learn from him. Plus, he seems to be a nice guy who wants to do his best.

The class seemed to hold together better on Wednesday than it had. It's settling into about 12 students who stay for the whole session and seem like they want to get what they can out of it. The others are resigned to having to take the quizzes and tests to get the credit. Not bad.

Even though I am slow and have spent way too many hours on the computer doing practice problems, algebra holding my attention and I don't know why. Is it the starkness or simplicity of right or wrong. As complicated as it looks on paper or on a blackboard, this stuff, at least at this level, is really straightforward. If you do this and then this and then this, here is the right answer. If you don't do exactly that, you get the wrong answer. It feels good to solve a problem, but there is no real human emotion involved. It worries me a little that I seem to be enjoying that.

It couldn't be more different from the teaching world I live in the rest of the time. One of my students is writing a profile about her brother who at age 17 is just returning to high school after battling drug addiction. Another is writing a story about a teen-aged mother who is trying to cope with her own problems while trying to learn to be a mom. Still another is profiling a nun who teaches at a girls' Catholic high school in Nogales, Ariz. and how she has affected young women's lives for half a century. Many of the students are writing about people who have emotional and profound stories to tell.

They have about 1500 word to tell those stories. And there about a thousand ways to do it.