Hollywood Hates Math

Dan Meyer spliced together scenes from various movies where knowledge of mathematics is denigrated. Since a big part of my job is instilling confidence in my students that they can indeed succeed in my classes, it’s a little depressing to see that I have a big opponent in popular culture.

This video has the occasional PG language and innuendo, while I prefer to keep my classes rated G to every extent possible. Some time ago, Dan was kind enough to post the original movie sources for this clip, and someday I might edit down this clip to something that I would be comfortable showing in class.

A rejoinder to “Is Algebra Necessary?”

From a terrific article “Reflections on Mathematics and Democracy” by Lynn Arthur Steen, a past president of the Mathematical Association of America.

So we face three distinct challenges:

– Addressing the many weaknesses evident in mathematical learning;

– Reducing the gulf between the traditional pre-calculus curriculum and the quantitative needs of life, work, and citizenship;

– Teaching mathematics in a way that encourages transfer—for citizenship, for career, and for further study.

I suggest that these three challenges are manifestations of a single problem, and that all three can be addressed in the same way:  by organizing the curriculum to pay greater attention to the goal of transferable knowledge and skills.

There are many ways to accomplish this, for example:

– by embedding mathematics in courses focused on applications of mathematics;

– by team-taught cross-disciplinary courses that blend mathematics with other subjects in which mathematical thinking arises (e.g., genetics, personal finance, medical technology);

– by project-focused curricula in which all school subjects are submerged into a class group project (e.g., design a solar powered car).

– by career-focused curricula in which a cohort of students focuses all their school work on particular career areas (e.g., technology, communications, or business).

Youth club sports

I’m trying to understand the economics of youth club sports, without success.

Many families pay lots of money for their children, often as young as 11, to play on select club teams. Often there is the hope that, with this training at a young age, their future college costs will be covered by an athletic scholarship.

Looking at club volleyball teams where I live, the typical price for being on a select club teams is approximately $2,000 for the academic year and perhaps the same amount of money for more intense training over the summer.

That’s $4,000 a year for maybe 8 years, or $32,000. If simply deposited in the bank, that’s enough to cover all or nearly all of 4 years of in-state tuition, room, and board at most public universities… whether or not the child is eventually good enough to play a sport in college.

I’m told that the annual costs of a premier studio for instruction in dance and music are comparable.

My conclusion: if your child loves a sport (and is really good at it), and you can see your child’s character grow through participating, and you have the financial ability for him/her to play on a select team, by all means, feel free to encourage your child in this direction. The intangible benefit of encouraging a child in finding his/her passion (if affordable by the parents) is probably immeasurable strictly in terms of dollars and cents. Just be aware that the total cost of training a future athlete via select club teams is comparable to the cost of going to college in the first place.

(Full disclaimer: growing up as a math nerd with no empirically measurable athletic ability, I had no firsthand contact with club sports when I was young.)

Epsilon

Years ago, when I taught calculus, I’d usually include the following extra credit question on the first exam: “In the small box, write a good value for \varepsilon. A valid answer gets 4 points; the smallest answer in the class will get 5 points.” It was basically free extra credit… any positive number would work, but it was a (hopefully) fun way for students to be a little competitive in coming up with small positive numbers, which is the intuitive meaning of \varepsilon in mathematics. (I still remember when my high school math teacher was giving me directions to a restaurant, concluding “You’ll know you’re within \varepsilon of the restaurant when you see the signs for Such-and-Such Mall.”)

Most students volunteered something like 0.0000001 or 10^{-9999999999999999}. Except for one particularly gutsy student who wrote, “The probability that Dr. Q gets a date on Friday night.” For sheer nerve, he got the 5 points that year.

Also getting 5 points that year was the best answer of the class: “Let x be the smallest answer that anyone else wrote. Then \varepsilon = x/2.” That was especially clever from a calculus student, as that’s the essence of a fairly common technique when writing proofs in real analysis.

A good clean joke

Two algebra teachers are on a plane. Shortly after reaching cruising altitude, one of the engines conks out. However, the flight attendant announces that the plane has three other engines. However, instead of needing 3 hours to fly to their destination on 4 engines, it will now take 4 hours to fly on 3 engines.

A little while later, another engine goes out. Never fear, says the flight attendant: the plane can fly on two engines. Unfortunately, the length of the flight has now increased to 6 hours.

Later still, a third engine fails. Not to worry, says the flight attendant. The plane can fly on only one engine. But the flight will now last 12 hours.

So one algebra teacher says to the other, “I really hope that last engine doesn’t go out, or else we’ll be up here forever!”