Recent comments from a friend describing anxiety that seems to freeze his attempts to understand and use a new mathematical concept have caused me to recall and dig out this old poem -- and, by recalling it, to increase my understanding of my friend.
The Math Teacher's Golf Lesson by JoAnne Growney
My practice swing was perfect -- slow start, easy
acceleration through the ball to finish high.
"Beautiful," he said. "It's time to hit a few."
I addressed a ball and settled down and swung --
and missed. "Concentrate," he said. I squinted
Showing posts with label student. Show all posts
Showing posts with label student. Show all posts
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Monday, December 28, 2015
Can a woman learn science (or mathematics)?
It is not a new idea that women do not have scientific aptitude, that teaching them requires special accommodation. Here, in a poem by one of the greatest scientists of all time, is a description of a condescending lecture to a female student, individually and behind a curtain, followed by her mocking reply.
Lectures to Women on Physical Science by James Clerk Maxwell (1831-79)
I. PLACE. —A small alcove with dark curtains.
The class consists of one member.
SUBJECT.—Thomson’s Mirror Galvanometer.
The lamp-light falls on blackened walls,
And streams through narrow perforations,
The long beam trails o’er pasteboard scales,
With slow-decaying oscillations.
Flow, current, flow, set the quick light-spot flying,
Flow current, answer light-spot, flashing, quivering, dying.
Lectures to Women on Physical Science by James Clerk Maxwell (1831-79)
I. PLACE. —A small alcove with dark curtains.
The class consists of one member.
SUBJECT.—Thomson’s Mirror Galvanometer.
The lamp-light falls on blackened walls,
And streams through narrow perforations,
The long beam trails o’er pasteboard scales,
With slow-decaying oscillations.
Flow, current, flow, set the quick light-spot flying,
Flow current, answer light-spot, flashing, quivering, dying.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
A math prof's lament
The mathematical connection for this poem is the fact that it was inspired by regrets for a missed opportunity in a mathematics class -- an opportunity missed by me and thus by one of my students. There are so many ways to be wrong!
Lament of a Professor
at the End of the Spring Semester by JoAnne Growney
I took an extra step to bridge the gap
between us, blind to your matching backward step.
We've moved in tandem until I'm angry
at you, and at me — I thought you needed
lenience, but reprimands instead
would have changed the direction of our cadence
and given you a chance to lead the dance.
A poem about another of my students, "The Prince of Algebra" is available here. And this link will take you to the poems in my collection, My Dance is Mathematics (Paper Kite Press, 2006).
Lament of a Professor
at the End of the Spring Semester by JoAnne Growney
I took an extra step to bridge the gap
between us, blind to your matching backward step.
We've moved in tandem until I'm angry
at you, and at me — I thought you needed
lenience, but reprimands instead
would have changed the direction of our cadence
and given you a chance to lead the dance.
A poem about another of my students, "The Prince of Algebra" is available here. And this link will take you to the poems in my collection, My Dance is Mathematics (Paper Kite Press, 2006).
Monday, January 13, 2014
Writing mathy poems - a student activity
On the web-page of mathematician-poet Sarah Glaz I found a link to this file of math-related poems that she prompted students to write when she visited an Arcadia University class session of "Truth and Beauty: A Course in Mathematics and Literature" taught by mathematician-poet Marion Cohen. The writing was prompted by an activity-list developed by mathematician-poet Carol Dorf. Poems by Whitney Boeckel and Olivia Lantz particularly caught my eye and, with their permission, I present them here:
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Poetry captures math student
This sonnet retells a familiar story -- a teacher influences a student's choice of studies. Prior to reading, many in mathematics may wonder: how can a student leave mathematics for poetry when mathematics is poetry? Whatever your view, I think you will enjoy this poem.
Prof of Profs by Geoffrey Brock
For Allison Hogge, in memory of Brian Wilkie
I was a math major—fond of all things rational.
It was the first day of my first poetry class.
The prof, with the air of a priest at Latin mass,
told us that we could “make great poetry personal,”
Prof of Profs by Geoffrey Brock
For Allison Hogge, in memory of Brian Wilkie
I was a math major—fond of all things rational.
It was the first day of my first poetry class.
The prof, with the air of a priest at Latin mass,
told us that we could “make great poetry personal,”
Labels:
Geoffrey Brock,
math major,
math teacher,
mathematics,
poetry,
student
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)