A Mathematician’s Lament

The excerpt below is taken from the paper, “A Mathematician’s Lament,” by Paul Lockhart. Lockhart also has a recent book by the same name, that is based off of the original paper. This excerpt is a little less than what you get when you sample the book on iTunes, so I believe it is safe to share here.

I must say I don’t agree with Mr. Lockhart’s perspectives on how to fix the problems prevalent in math education. However, he does an excellent job of giving you a mathematician’s perspective on the problems. It is clear that he feels very passionate about this issue, as do the rest of us who are paying attention. That is why I share this here.

A musician wakes from a terrible nightmare. In his dream he finds himself in a society where music education has been made mandatory. “We are helping our students become more competitive in an increasingly sound-filled world.” Educators, school systems, and the state are put in charge of this vital project. Studies are commissioned, committees are formed, and decisions are made— all without the advice or participation of a single working musician or composer.

Since musicians are known to set down their ideas in the form of sheet music, these curious black dots and lines must constitute the “language of music.” It is imperative that students become fluent in this language if they are to attain any degree of musical competence; indeed, it would be ludicrous to expect a child to sing a song or play an instrument without having a thorough grounding in music notation and theory. Playing and listening to music, let alone composing an original piece, are considered very advanced topics and are generally put off until college, and more often graduate school.

As for the primary and secondary schools, their mission is to train students to use this language— to jiggle symbols around according to a fixed set of rules: “Music class is where we take out our staff paper, our teacher puts some notes on the board, and we copy them or
transpose them into a different key. We have to make sure to get the clefs and key signatures right, and our teacher is very picky about making sure we fill in our quarter-notes completely. One time we had a chromatic scale problem and I did it right, but the teacher gave me no credit because I had the stems pointing the wrong way.”

In their wisdom, educators soon realize that even very young children can be given this kind of musical instruction. In fact it is considered quite shameful if one’s third-grader hasn’t completely memorized his circle of fifths. “I’ll have to get my son a music tutor. He simply won’t apply himself to his music homework. He says it’s boring. He just sits there staring out the window, humming tunes to himself and making up silly songs.”

In the higher grades the pressure is really on. After all, the students must be prepared for the standardized tests and college admissions exams. Students must take courses in Scales and Modes, Meter, Harmony, and Counterpoint. “It’s a lot for them to learn, but later in college when they finally get to hear all this stuff, they’ll really appreciate all the work they did in high school.” Of course, not many students actually go on to concentrate in music, so only a few will ever get to hear the sounds that the black dots represent. Nevertheless, it is important that every member of society be able to recognize a modulation or a fugal passage, regardless of the fact
that they will never hear one. “To tell you the truth, most students just aren’t very good at music. They are bored in class, their skills are terrible, and their homework is barely legible. Most of them couldn’t care less about how important music is in today’s world; they just want to take the minimum number of music courses and be done with it. I guess there are just music people and non-music people. I had this one kid, though, man was she sensational! Her sheets were impeccable— every note in the right place, perfect calligraphy, sharps, flats, just beautiful. She’s going to make one hell of a musician someday.”

Waking up in a cold sweat, the musician realizes, gratefully, that it was all just a crazy dream. “Of course!” he reassures himself, “No society would ever reduce such a beautiful and meaningful art form to something so mindless and trivial; no culture could be so cruel to its children as to deprive them of such a natural, satisfying means of human expression. How absurd!”

The Best Way to Learn (and the Worst Way to Teach)

“The best way to learn is to do; the worst way to teach is to talk.” — Paul Halmos

Interesting thoughts from David Bressoud over at Launchings on being an effective teacher. He references the Academy of Inquiry-Based Learning, and I recommend you check it out. I think this approach to teaching mathematics fits very well in the context of my previous post on Math as Story.

Reflections from CAMT 2011: Math as Story

It has been a while (at least longer than I would have liked) since I posted. I have been involved with several writing projects this summer that have taken more of my time than I initially anticipated. But the upside is that once they have been completed and publish I will be able to share the fruit of that labor here. In the meantime, back to our regularly(ish) scheduled programming.

A few weeks back I was privileged to attend CAMT 2011 (Conference for the Advancement of Mathematics Teaching). The main reasons that I made time for it on my schedule was that it was being held in my hometown of Grapevine, TX (=money saved by staying with family) and the featured speaker was Dan Meyer (=my hero in math education).

Overall it was a good experience. Not bad, not great. Good. Being a conference designed for primary and secondary teachers, I was expecting presentations that were practical for me to take back to my classroom. On the whole, I didn’t quite get what I expected. Some presentations were psychological/research driven, meaning they went along the lines of, “the numbers show that kids are failing at (blank) and possible reasons include (blank), and we can correct this by creating a culture of (blank) in education.” It was all good information, but the solution strategy seemed more speculative than practical. On the flip-side, some presentations were too practical. By that I mean that the presenter essentially gave a quasi-lesson and left me to go copy it without really fleshing out the philosophy behind why it is a good lesson, so I can then develop other lessons in a similar philosophical vein.

Of course, this could just be representative of the talks I chose to attend and not the conference as a whole.

There were of course several presentations that perfectly blended (at least for my taste) the philosophical and the practical aspects of teaching. Naturally Dan Meyer’s talks fall in this category and this why I am such a big fan of his. The main point of both his talks: a good (read engaging) math problem is like a good story. A good problem grabs your interest (usually with a powerful image), equips you to solve the problem which is different than just giving you a bunch of information, and it finally relieves the tension that was initially presented by confirming the solution (ideally with an image again, not just revealing the answer key). It also sets the stage for a sequel.

It seems so intuitive, but yet it clearly goes against the grain of how most of us were taught mathematics. It also fits into our evolving, media-saturated world better than word problems in a textbook.

The concept of a good “story” I think is also essential to our understanding of the Biblical text. As I reflect on this understanding in my own spiritual life, I see clear parallels. Narratives in Scripture often present an initial conflict that I naturally want to see resolved. This is usually followed by a coming to terms with this conflict, where characters are equipped to handle their problem (which is NOT the same as God intervening and just giving them all the answers). Then the narrative closes with an act of redemption, revealing the nature of God, and bringing satisfaction to the problem. But, just like the description of a good math story above, the Bible leaves way for a sequel. Whatever redemption we experience now, though miraculous, is temporary and incomplete. In the narrative’s attempt to resolve the conflict, to borrow a line from a song, we still haven’t found what we’re looking for.