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The fan mail is rolling in and paparazzi are following me to work every day despite the great lengths to which I’ve gone to protect my identity. 

Some people are telling me ed school is just a minor annoyance, but once the door to my classroom is closed, the class is mine to do with as I wish. Others tell me pick a school where there are no “math police” who make sure I teach the program du jour. 

Of all the comments, two in particular stand out.  One from a friend who asked if I thought I was making a difference with this little venture into blog space.  The other asked whether I thought I’d be making a difference teaching in a system that prevents effective math teaching in a world infiltrated by NSF, NCTM/ed school dogma and math police.

I don’t know the answer to the first question. But I’m in ed school, where there are no wrong answers.  So here goes.  Will this little blog venture make a difference?  Well, what I do know is that ed schools—without benefit of blogs or internet cafés—have made a huge difference in this country.  A bad one.  Therefore, the more people informed of the debate the better, particularly those on the fence.

This brings up the second question: if the seed pod infiltration is so effective (see my last letter for what this metaphor means) what is the chance for change with only a few enlightened teachers battling the math police?

My answer to the second question is based on the fact that I’ve never had an original idea in my life.  Being part of the baby boomer generation means that whatever so-called original idea is in my head is also in the heads of thousands of other people.  Which means that many people getting ready to retire and who have science or math backgrounds may also be looking into teaching.  There’s strength in numbers.  (No pun or content intended.)  If my class at ed school is any indication, four of the five future math teachers in the room were of my vintage.  And if it’s any consolation, I believe that four out of the five future math teachers tended to ignore what was taught.  (I think this might extend to other disciplines as well).

In the class I just took, the professor one night espoused the ubiquitous ed school philosophy that one of the biggest hurdles to conquer in teaching math is students’ math anxiety.  He provided an example.  He handed out a problem that asked in what position was a table held while moved, if it produced a scratch on the floor that was in a northeasterly direction?  The problem could have many answers, a concept beloved by ed school types who believe that problems with only one correct answer limit students’ critical thinking skills.  “Open-ended” problems with many answers, on the other hand, reduce math anxiety because it relieves the pressure to produce THE correct answer.  Students are thus liberated to be creative and use “higher order thinking skills”.  I pointed out that the problem was not so much open-ended as it was ill-posed. 

“Yes, it is ill-posed,” he agreed.   There were no arguments in this class; only insights, discussions, and agreement.  This is ed school: there are no wrong answers.  Just the “greater truth” which will eventually prevail.  No such epiphanies occurred that night, however.  One student said that the scratch-on-the-floor problem actually made her more anxious because she wasn’t sure what she was doing wrong.  The teacher said “Yes, I agree,” and concluded that perhaps the best way is to tell the students at the outset that there is more than one right answer.  I suggested asking the students what additional information should be provided to make the problem well defined.  “I agree,” he agreed again.

He talked some more about math anxiety.  The ed school of thought holds that if you just relax and get over the anxiety, the greater truth will prevail.  Not a word about how inadequate preparation may play a role.  “At-risk” students are particularly vulnerable to math anxiety according to ed school wisdom.  One instructor the professor knew was quite good with such students.  He told how she gave each student a name having to do with a concept in algebra.  One student was called “perfect square trinomial”, another was “binomial”, and so forth. (They may have had name tags).  Their task was to learn how each of them “related” to one another, thus forcing them to learn what these terms meant.  Which would be great if the only goal of an algebra class were to master vocabulary and get in touch with one’s inner polynomial.   Perhaps this is all that is expected of these at-risk students, since they seem to have different “learning styles” than the rest of us. 

There were no comments from the class as the professor told this tale.  The future math teachers said nothing and showed no emotion, not even a grimace.  In the papers I wrote for the class, I took on many of the beliefs about how best to teach math.  I don’t know what the others said.  I only know the professor said he agreed with me.  I’m trying to enjoy this illusion while it lasts.

In eternal agreement, I sincerely and faithfully remain,
John Dewey