Showing posts with label Florence Nightingale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Florence Nightingale. Show all posts

Monday, March 7, 2022

International Day of the Woman -- 03-08-2022

 Celebrate Math-Women with Poems

Throughout the history of mathematics, women have often been excluded or ignored.  This is changing.  I offer below some links to poems that herald math-women -- for you to enjoy and to share as we celebrate tomorrow  --  "International Day of the Woman." 

Celebrate Philippa Fawcett.          Celebrate Sophie Germain.

Celebrate Grace Murray Hopper.       Celebrate Katherine Johnson.

Celebrate Sophia Kovalevsky.          Celebrate Ada Lovelace.  

Celebrate Florence Nightingale.          Celebrate Emmy Noether.

And, as your time permits, browse this blog -- or SEARCH -- to find more . . .

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Seeking poems about math-women

In this blog I have previously posted poems that speak of the lives of these math-women:

     Sophie Germain (1776-1831)
     Florence Nightingale  (1820-1910)
     Amalie "Emmy" Noether  (1882-1935)
     Grace Murray Hopper (1906 - 1988)

And also a poem about four influential teachers of mine; three of them math-people; three of them women.

I want more poems about women in mathematics;   
send me yours (or those of others) -- 
write new ones; CELEBRATE women in mathematics:

women who are alive or ones that have passed; 
women of fame or those without; 
women out in front or those in quiet corners -- 
women we want to remember.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Statistics -- math to improve man's lot

Today's poem honors nurse and statistician Florence Nightingale (1820-1910) and is found in a fine poetry collection by Mary Alexandra Agner, The Scientific Method.

   After Math     by Mary Alexandra Agner

               Florence Nightingale, 1820-1910

   Worth one thousand words, usually,
   but thousands dead
   were inked as a colored nautilus
   with chambers counting corpses
   by disease or sword or bullet.
   Hold this shell to your ear;
   hear only your heartbeat's echo.
   Numbers never had such voice
   until Florence drew
   coxcomb wedges for the dead.