Monday, April 30, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Myths about Math
People are often surprised when they find out I'm a math major, because I don't strike them as "the type." I used to take this as a compliment, implying that I don't fit the stereotype (I've never played dungeons and dragons, I'm terrible at chess, and I shower). But recently, it's started to bother me that there so many stereotypes about mathematics and mathematicians that go unquestioned. I would like to take a moment to clear up some myths that have passed as fact for far too long.
Myth #1
Mathematics isn't all that interesting, and it is only useful if you're going to be an engineer or a statistician.
---> If you open your eyes and look around you*, mathematics is fascinating, because it is everywhere. From the design of the chair you're sitting in, to the proportion of the margins on the pages in the books you read, to the arrangement of which teams play which (and when) in every sports tournament ever conducted... there is no escaping it. In addition to what is man-made, i.e.: traffic lights, employee schedules, works of art, and the design of auditoriums, there is also mathematics that can be found in nature. Entire books have been written on the math we can trace out appearing in flowers, birds' wings, and spider webs. Yes, you will need some knowledge of calculations to do your taxes, but math encompasses much more than calculations. You will also need mathematics to throw a good party, which brings me to my next myth:
Myth #2
Mathematics = calculations.
---> All you have to do is look up "Mathematics" in any dictionary or even Wikipedia to have this assumption contradicted. Wikipedia states that "Mathematics is the study of quantity, structure, space, and change." I would amend this and add that Mathematics is also the study of proportion, relationships, patterns, and logic.
1+3=4 is no more the substance of Mathematics than red + yellow = orange is the substance of art.
Myth #3
Mathematics isn't as complex or organic as fields in the liberal arts, like Philosophy or Anthropology, because math problems have just a single answer in the back of the book that is either right or wrong.
---> How useful would it be to make math books for academic use that did not have answers that were either correct or incorrect? As students are beginning to learn methods for solving problems, they need to have a way of checking whether they are using the methods correctly. In real life problems that mathematicians face, there is no answer in the back of the book. It becomes less about "finding the answer" and more about finding a way that works. In other words, mathematics at the early academic level does indeed have a binary result: you either have it right or wrong. Beyond this stage in learning, the mathematical process takes much more complex forms. Often, it is less about finding the solution than it is about creating a path towards an ideal solution that is already known. In addition to the organic and creative process that mathematics is, it's questionable whether you can consider math entirely separate from studies of the humanities in the first place.
Myth #4
Mathematics is its own separate field.
---> Someday, I will dedicate an entire post to disproving this. This fall, I am taking a class that is specifically focused on how the study of Mathematical Sciences has overlapped and intertwined with the rest of humanity's story. The logic implicit in psychology, the statistical foundations of sociology, and the proportions inherent in art attest that mathematics is hardly separable from other fields of study.
I will say that this myth has continued due partly to the fault of mathematicians themselves, or at least the majority of mathematicians in academics. If I could pick one department at Ball State that is the least likely to network with other departments to create projects or exchange resources in an effort to broaden their students' abilities to work with others of different skill sets and view points, it would probably be the department of Mathematics. This is disappointing to me especially because I feel that mathematics is a field that is and always has been collaborative at its best.
Myth #5
Mathematicians have horrible spelling, punctuation, and grammar in general.
---> This one is true. I like to think that I'm an exception to this rule, but if I am, I am the ONLY one. The only. one.
Keep an eye out for more myth-busting, because I might add to this list. For now, I'm going back to my math software homework; this rectangle isn't going to maximize itself.
--
*Yes, that was a Look Around You reference.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5054356894457127152
Myth #1
Mathematics isn't all that interesting, and it is only useful if you're going to be an engineer or a statistician.
---> If you open your eyes and look around you*, mathematics is fascinating, because it is everywhere. From the design of the chair you're sitting in, to the proportion of the margins on the pages in the books you read, to the arrangement of which teams play which (and when) in every sports tournament ever conducted... there is no escaping it. In addition to what is man-made, i.e.: traffic lights, employee schedules, works of art, and the design of auditoriums, there is also mathematics that can be found in nature. Entire books have been written on the math we can trace out appearing in flowers, birds' wings, and spider webs. Yes, you will need some knowledge of calculations to do your taxes, but math encompasses much more than calculations. You will also need mathematics to throw a good party, which brings me to my next myth:
Myth #2
Mathematics = calculations.
---> All you have to do is look up "Mathematics" in any dictionary or even Wikipedia to have this assumption contradicted. Wikipedia states that "Mathematics is the study of quantity, structure, space, and change." I would amend this and add that Mathematics is also the study of proportion, relationships, patterns, and logic.
1+3=4 is no more the substance of Mathematics than red + yellow = orange is the substance of art.
Myth #3
Mathematics isn't as complex or organic as fields in the liberal arts, like Philosophy or Anthropology, because math problems have just a single answer in the back of the book that is either right or wrong.
---> How useful would it be to make math books for academic use that did not have answers that were either correct or incorrect? As students are beginning to learn methods for solving problems, they need to have a way of checking whether they are using the methods correctly. In real life problems that mathematicians face, there is no answer in the back of the book. It becomes less about "finding the answer" and more about finding a way that works. In other words, mathematics at the early academic level does indeed have a binary result: you either have it right or wrong. Beyond this stage in learning, the mathematical process takes much more complex forms. Often, it is less about finding the solution than it is about creating a path towards an ideal solution that is already known. In addition to the organic and creative process that mathematics is, it's questionable whether you can consider math entirely separate from studies of the humanities in the first place.
Myth #4
Mathematics is its own separate field.
---> Someday, I will dedicate an entire post to disproving this. This fall, I am taking a class that is specifically focused on how the study of Mathematical Sciences has overlapped and intertwined with the rest of humanity's story. The logic implicit in psychology, the statistical foundations of sociology, and the proportions inherent in art attest that mathematics is hardly separable from other fields of study.
I will say that this myth has continued due partly to the fault of mathematicians themselves, or at least the majority of mathematicians in academics. If I could pick one department at Ball State that is the least likely to network with other departments to create projects or exchange resources in an effort to broaden their students' abilities to work with others of different skill sets and view points, it would probably be the department of Mathematics. This is disappointing to me especially because I feel that mathematics is a field that is and always has been collaborative at its best.
Myth #5
Mathematicians have horrible spelling, punctuation, and grammar in general.
---> This one is true. I like to think that I'm an exception to this rule, but if I am, I am the ONLY one. The only. one.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Keep an eye out for more myth-busting, because I might add to this list. For now, I'm going back to my math software homework; this rectangle isn't going to maximize itself.
--
*Yes, that was a Look Around You reference.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5054356894457127152
Thursday, April 12, 2012
My Dissertation on (the Importance of) a Responsibly Planned Future
We should think carefully, painstakingly, dutifully, weightily, wisely about tomorrow
tomorrow.
and not (a moment)
sooner
tomorrow.
and not (a moment)
sooner
Monday, April 9, 2012
2%
She wanted desperately to give the 2% milk away.
“We’ll give it to Renee.”
I scoff, disgusted at the thought of her trying to pawn it off on the poor little girl who agreed to watch our pets for the week. “Mom, they only drink organic,” I vocalize in the direction of the kitchen. I am in the living room, sprawled like a towel thrown on the couch. There is a point before family trips during which I crumple in the most comfortable place possible and quietly await the storm. I overhear her on the phone with John, our paranoid neighbor across the street. He seems wary about the suggested dairy exchange. She is negotiating with him in the flimsiest way possible. They are discussing percentages of milk fat.
I sit up and look at the skyline of suitcases and trash bags stretched full of “just in case” items: tennis rackets, board games, Frisbees… my mother likes to pack for a family from an 80’s commercial. Not one of us actually plays tennis. It occurs to me that this City of Preparation will never fit into the tic-tac box that is the trunk of our tiny white Honda. Thus begins the blaming.
First to raise his voice is my dad, whose job it is to Tetris all of our luggage and baggage into impossibly compact dimensions. When I say “raise his voice,” I do not refer to the sound decibel, but rather the pitch. There is a directly proportional relationship between my father’s distress and how chipmunk-like his voice becomes. This is a family trait. It is both humorous and frightening. “Tennis rackets? Monopoly?! Why do we need to bring all this crap?”
My mother holds firm. “I want to play Monopoly.”
All the while, voices higher.
“We’re not going to play Monopoly!”
“Well, I want to have it in case we do!”
The squeal is threatening the glass in the room.
“Becca, why do you need to bring so many books?” It’s my sister’s turn to make sure the situation resolves itself in the optimum amount of finger pointing and bloodshed. “It’s only a 4 hour drive! What’s in this backpack?”
“Once we get to Columbus, we still have to drive to North Carolina. That’s 8 more hours.”
“Oh. Right.” A pause. “Can I borrow a couple books?”
“Yeh. I’ve never read this, but I’ve heard it’s good.” I hand her a book that hadn’t made the cut.
“Why aren’t we taking the station wagon?” I frantically interject our parents, who are chewing lightly on the back of each other’s heads.
My mother lets out a your father sigh. “Gas mileage,” she mumbles, spitting out some hair.
Frustrated that no one foresaw this mass vs. space conundrum, I cringe around the room. I am a silent billboard advertising my displeasure with the amount of realistic planning that has been employed here.
After jettisoning some extra towels, the board games, and shuffling what was in large luggage into smaller bite-sized duffel bags, my father begins to work his magic. Finally, he has negotiated with the natures of mass and space enough that we are able to close all of the car doors and still be inside the car.
“We’ll give it to Renee.”
I scoff, disgusted at the thought of her trying to pawn it off on the poor little girl who agreed to watch our pets for the week. “Mom, they only drink organic,” I vocalize in the direction of the kitchen. I am in the living room, sprawled like a towel thrown on the couch. There is a point before family trips during which I crumple in the most comfortable place possible and quietly await the storm. I overhear her on the phone with John, our paranoid neighbor across the street. He seems wary about the suggested dairy exchange. She is negotiating with him in the flimsiest way possible. They are discussing percentages of milk fat.
I sit up and look at the skyline of suitcases and trash bags stretched full of “just in case” items: tennis rackets, board games, Frisbees… my mother likes to pack for a family from an 80’s commercial. Not one of us actually plays tennis. It occurs to me that this City of Preparation will never fit into the tic-tac box that is the trunk of our tiny white Honda. Thus begins the blaming.
First to raise his voice is my dad, whose job it is to Tetris all of our luggage and baggage into impossibly compact dimensions. When I say “raise his voice,” I do not refer to the sound decibel, but rather the pitch. There is a directly proportional relationship between my father’s distress and how chipmunk-like his voice becomes. This is a family trait. It is both humorous and frightening. “Tennis rackets? Monopoly?! Why do we need to bring all this crap?”
My mother holds firm. “I want to play Monopoly.”
All the while, voices higher.
“We’re not going to play Monopoly!”
“Well, I want to have it in case we do!”
The squeal is threatening the glass in the room.
“Becca, why do you need to bring so many books?” It’s my sister’s turn to make sure the situation resolves itself in the optimum amount of finger pointing and bloodshed. “It’s only a 4 hour drive! What’s in this backpack?”
“Once we get to Columbus, we still have to drive to North Carolina. That’s 8 more hours.”
“Oh. Right.” A pause. “Can I borrow a couple books?”
“Yeh. I’ve never read this, but I’ve heard it’s good.” I hand her a book that hadn’t made the cut.
“Why aren’t we taking the station wagon?” I frantically interject our parents, who are chewing lightly on the back of each other’s heads.
My mother lets out a your father sigh. “Gas mileage,” she mumbles, spitting out some hair.
Frustrated that no one foresaw this mass vs. space conundrum, I cringe around the room. I am a silent billboard advertising my displeasure with the amount of realistic planning that has been employed here.
After jettisoning some extra towels, the board games, and shuffling what was in large luggage into smaller bite-sized duffel bags, my father begins to work his magic. Finally, he has negotiated with the natures of mass and space enough that we are able to close all of the car doors and still be inside the car.
My sister and I are squeezed so tightly beside each other that we could easily pass for Siamese twins. My dad is a quietly wounded puppy because he feels he is being blamed for wanting to save on gas money. Men are kings, but sometimes things happen that remind them they can only move as far as pawns. My mother is – gone. She has flitted from the car to remember some necessarily forgotten thing in the house. Now she is knocking on the door of our next door neighbor who is never home. I can’t see what is in her hand, but from her posture I can tell: it is the orphaned half-empty gallon of 2%. By miracle from heaven, Ms. Neverhome answers the door and accepts the offering.
As we pull away, my dad is still sulky in the driver’s seat. My sister’s organs are mingling with mine contentedly. This time, I’m the one to break the silence. “Dad, thanks for packing the car up. That was amazing.”
On we drive in silence, until the queen decides to have the last move.
“I fit Monopoly in the back.”
On we drive in silence, until the queen decides to have the last move.
“I fit Monopoly in the back.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this in the car on the way to North Carolina last summer. I'm pleased to offer you this snapshot of the hilarity and frustration that is inherent in a Jackson Family road trip.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
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