So I had a conversation this morning with DD's advisor, Mr. A. I explained that my big concern is that I don't want DD to get depressed again, and I don't want her to be overworked and stressed out.
Mr. A: Well, we meet every week as a team, and we do try to coordinate the work. For instance, we try to have each subject have their own test day, so you don't have to study for a lot of tests at once.
Me: she's supposed to study for tests?
(I have never seen DD study for a test.)
We talked a bit about the science assignment of writing an outline of a paper they've read, which as I tried to explain has put the emphasis on the writing of an outline rather than understanding the paper, and got the time-worn response:
Mr. A.: Well, sometimes in life we all have to do things that don't make sense.
Me: That's not what school should be about. School should be better than that.
On the whole, though, I'm encouraged by the conversation we had. For one thing, he said one of the assistant principals actually got out to see Race to Nowhere and was impressed.
Mostly, I hung up the phone thinking that they clearly want to keep DD at the school, and they want to work with me enough to make that happen. I think it's a surprise to them to hear from a parent of a high-achieving kid, whose number one priority is said kid's mental health. I hope they'll be hearing from many more of us in the future.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
This Math Depresses Me
From Parenting is Political, by NorthTOMom:
The other day, my 11-year-old daughter left a note on the scratch paper she was using to do her math homework. It read (caps hers):
Before I go any further, let me state a few facts about myself. Yes, I dislike reform math or "fuzzy" math or constructivist math, or whatever you want to call it. But . . . I am not an educational conservative, a back to basics advocate, or a nostalgic drill-and-kill enthusiast. On the contrary, I am a firm believer in progressive, child-friendly public schooling for all. I feel I have to say this because the "math wars" have been so politicized, both in the US and here in Canada (where in true Canadian style, the "war" was more of a minor skirmish followed by complete capitulation), that anyone who opposes the current math curriculum is branded as educationally retrograde. I think in order for an intellectually honest and productive discussion of math education to occur, this politicization and presumptive name-calling has to stop.
So why do I object to constructivist math? One reason is that it is, by-design, non-incremental or "spiral": its textbooks jump around from topic to topic, never staying on a subject long enough to allow for deep understanding or competence. I also dislike reform math because it frowns upon direct instruction. Since constructivist math teachers believe children can "construct" or "discover" mathematical truths and come up with their own algorithms to solve problems, they offer students minimal guidance, and are not averse to putting the cart before the horse: e.g., assigning algebra-type problems before teaching the tools of algebra, or asking kids to divide or multiply by decimals or fractions without having first taught them how decimals and fractions work.
All of this—the bouncing around from topic to topic, the "challenging" problems, the lack of direct teaching—constructivists defend in the name of what they call "conceptual" learning, which they oppose to both abstract instruction and their favourite straw man, "drill-and-kill" work. But there are two problems with this normative use of the term "conceptual." First of all, "conceptual" and "abstract" constitute a false binary opposition: a concept can be abstract, and an abstraction is not necessarily unconceptual. Take the standard algorithm for long division. Because this method of performing division—like all mathematical algorithms—can be separated from concrete or specific division problems, it is deemed to be abstract. Proponents of constructivist math argue that presenting it upfront would be tantamount to teaching division in a manner that does not allow kids to understand the concept behind it or why and how it works. But a mathematician (and it's interesting to me that most of the authors of constructivist math textbooks are not mathematicians) might counter that the algorithm embodies the concept—otherwise it would not work. So, let's say a teacher were to demonstrate the standard algorithm for long division at the outset of a lesson; he or she could, conceivably, set aside class time for practice and mastery, and then—with student participation—pick apart the algorithm to find out how and why it works. Would this be less conceptual than making kids stumble through division problems on their own, hoping they will discover an efficient algorithm, which most of them will never do?
Secondly, even if the terms conceptual and abstract were in fact polar opposites, why would we favour one over the other? There are some kids who love working in groups or with concrete materials (methods favoured by constructivists) but there are others, like both my daughters, who simply enjoy playing with symbols on a page, and who find all the illustrations, and colourful doodads in their current textbook patronizing and distracting. Why do we assume that math instruction must be a one size-fits-all proposition?
But my real opposition to the privileging of the conceptual in constructivist math is that it is misleading and even hypocritical: in my experience, constructivist textbooks do not encourage conceptual understanding at all. Indeed, my main problem with reform math is that it does not promote mathematical understanding, full stop.
The note from my daughter with which I started this post, in which she expresses her ongoing frustration with math, was sparked by a revealing instance of the true non-conceptual nature her constructivist math text. The problems my daughters were working on for their homework that night involved perimeter and area. In certain questions, they had to compare perimeters given in different metric units. To do that, they had to convert, for instance, metres to centimetres or vice versa in order to figure out which of two given perimeters was bigger. My daughters had no problem with this, but then they were confronted with a problem in which they had to compare the areas of two rectangles—one measuring 8400 centimetres squared and the other measuring .84 metres squared—and, again, indicate which was bigger. Their first instinct was simply to multiply .84 by 100 in order to carry out the comparison. This was my first instinct as well, but something (a residual spark of mathematical reasoning?) told me that in the case of area, it didn't quite work this way. Confused, I flipped back a page or two to see if any explanation of this type of problem had been given. I found no explanation, but I did find, in a coloured bubble in the margin of the previous page, these instructions:
My point here is neither to ridicule my daughters' math textbook nor to blame the school for choosing it; it is, after all, one of a handful of textbooks approved and financially supported by the provincial government. My purpose, rather, is to demonstrate that this so-called constructivist, "conceptual" textbook is neither. It's just poorly-presented, pedagogically dubious, bad math. Which is why I concur with my daughter: THIS MATH DEPRESSES ME.
The other day, my 11-year-old daughter left a note on the scratch paper she was using to do her math homework. It read (caps hers):
I HATE THE MATH IN THIS UNIT! IT MAKES ME CRY, AND IT DEPRESSES ME. THIS MATH TORTORES [sic] ME. — JThis note depressed me. But quite frankly, it did not surprise me. The math program in our public school—a Canadianized version of the reform math so reviled in the US—continually frustrates and confuses my twin daughters, both of whom are A students in math. Both of them have declared, on many, many occasions during the past three or four years of struggling through this program, that they hate math. This really depresses me, because my husband and I have gone to great lengths to instill in our girls a love of math, a sense that it can be interesting and fun and challenging, and that, contrary to the message they may be receiving from the culture in general, it is something about which girls and boys should be equally enthusiastic.
Before I go any further, let me state a few facts about myself. Yes, I dislike reform math or "fuzzy" math or constructivist math, or whatever you want to call it. But . . . I am not an educational conservative, a back to basics advocate, or a nostalgic drill-and-kill enthusiast. On the contrary, I am a firm believer in progressive, child-friendly public schooling for all. I feel I have to say this because the "math wars" have been so politicized, both in the US and here in Canada (where in true Canadian style, the "war" was more of a minor skirmish followed by complete capitulation), that anyone who opposes the current math curriculum is branded as educationally retrograde. I think in order for an intellectually honest and productive discussion of math education to occur, this politicization and presumptive name-calling has to stop.
So why do I object to constructivist math? One reason is that it is, by-design, non-incremental or "spiral": its textbooks jump around from topic to topic, never staying on a subject long enough to allow for deep understanding or competence. I also dislike reform math because it frowns upon direct instruction. Since constructivist math teachers believe children can "construct" or "discover" mathematical truths and come up with their own algorithms to solve problems, they offer students minimal guidance, and are not averse to putting the cart before the horse: e.g., assigning algebra-type problems before teaching the tools of algebra, or asking kids to divide or multiply by decimals or fractions without having first taught them how decimals and fractions work.
All of this—the bouncing around from topic to topic, the "challenging" problems, the lack of direct teaching—constructivists defend in the name of what they call "conceptual" learning, which they oppose to both abstract instruction and their favourite straw man, "drill-and-kill" work. But there are two problems with this normative use of the term "conceptual." First of all, "conceptual" and "abstract" constitute a false binary opposition: a concept can be abstract, and an abstraction is not necessarily unconceptual. Take the standard algorithm for long division. Because this method of performing division—like all mathematical algorithms—can be separated from concrete or specific division problems, it is deemed to be abstract. Proponents of constructivist math argue that presenting it upfront would be tantamount to teaching division in a manner that does not allow kids to understand the concept behind it or why and how it works. But a mathematician (and it's interesting to me that most of the authors of constructivist math textbooks are not mathematicians) might counter that the algorithm embodies the concept—otherwise it would not work. So, let's say a teacher were to demonstrate the standard algorithm for long division at the outset of a lesson; he or she could, conceivably, set aside class time for practice and mastery, and then—with student participation—pick apart the algorithm to find out how and why it works. Would this be less conceptual than making kids stumble through division problems on their own, hoping they will discover an efficient algorithm, which most of them will never do?
Secondly, even if the terms conceptual and abstract were in fact polar opposites, why would we favour one over the other? There are some kids who love working in groups or with concrete materials (methods favoured by constructivists) but there are others, like both my daughters, who simply enjoy playing with symbols on a page, and who find all the illustrations, and colourful doodads in their current textbook patronizing and distracting. Why do we assume that math instruction must be a one size-fits-all proposition?
But my real opposition to the privileging of the conceptual in constructivist math is that it is misleading and even hypocritical: in my experience, constructivist textbooks do not encourage conceptual understanding at all. Indeed, my main problem with reform math is that it does not promote mathematical understanding, full stop.
The note from my daughter with which I started this post, in which she expresses her ongoing frustration with math, was sparked by a revealing instance of the true non-conceptual nature her constructivist math text. The problems my daughters were working on for their homework that night involved perimeter and area. In certain questions, they had to compare perimeters given in different metric units. To do that, they had to convert, for instance, metres to centimetres or vice versa in order to figure out which of two given perimeters was bigger. My daughters had no problem with this, but then they were confronted with a problem in which they had to compare the areas of two rectangles—one measuring 8400 centimetres squared and the other measuring .84 metres squared—and, again, indicate which was bigger. Their first instinct was simply to multiply .84 by 100 in order to carry out the comparison. This was my first instinct as well, but something (a residual spark of mathematical reasoning?) told me that in the case of area, it didn't quite work this way. Confused, I flipped back a page or two to see if any explanation of this type of problem had been given. I found no explanation, but I did find, in a coloured bubble in the margin of the previous page, these instructions:
When you convert an area in metres squared to centimtres squared, each dimension is multiplied by 100. So, the area is multiplied by 100 x 100, or 10,000.So there it was: a formula! No verbal or visual exposition, just an easily-missed bubble telling the kids what to do. You can't get any less "conceptual" than that. My daughters read the instructions and understood them, but they wanted to know why the formula worked. I asked them if the teacher had explained it, and they said he had not. I tried, unsuccessfully, to explain it. I then enlisted the help of my computer-scientist husband. He drew diagrams, and took my daughters, step-by-step, through the hows and whys of the formula given by the textbook; in doing so he was able to teach the girls how to carry out conversions from any metric unit squared to another—which the textbook formula, restricted as it was to conversions from metres squared to centimetres squared, was unable to do.
My point here is neither to ridicule my daughters' math textbook nor to blame the school for choosing it; it is, after all, one of a handful of textbooks approved and financially supported by the provincial government. My purpose, rather, is to demonstrate that this so-called constructivist, "conceptual" textbook is neither. It's just poorly-presented, pedagogically dubious, bad math. Which is why I concur with my daughter: THIS MATH DEPRESSES ME.
Puberty 1, Mathematics 0
From The World of Simon Raven: The Green Years:
At the end of the Easter Term the maths master had very properly followed the call of the bugle, and the school had been compelled to employ a middle-aged temporary called "Wally" Wallace. Although Wally knew little mathematics and less science, he was quite a plausible bluffer and had the wit to discover straight away which boys had some reputation at his subjects and then, as it were, to pace himself by them. If he were uncertain how to solve a problem, he would not flounder about trying to do it himself, he would set the whole class on to it and then announce that the school swot had come up with the correct answer. The school swot ("Lotty" Loder he was called) would then be invited to come up to the blackboard and demonstrate his solution to the accompaniment of grateful and approving nods from Wally ... who, however, was calamitously found out on the day when Lotty had been introduced by his neighbor to the delights of self-abuse.
Wally by now had such trust in him that he summoned him to the blackboard without even bothering to look at his work; whereupon the wretched child came limping forward with a huge erection clearly visible under his grey shorts and no solution to propose to his audience. After a few feeble attempts at improvisation he asked to be allowed "to go to the bog, sir, please", stayed there exploring the full possibilities of his new-found hobby, and left Wally to do his own job for once.
And a sad mess Wally made of it.
At the end of the Easter Term the maths master had very properly followed the call of the bugle, and the school had been compelled to employ a middle-aged temporary called "Wally" Wallace. Although Wally knew little mathematics and less science, he was quite a plausible bluffer and had the wit to discover straight away which boys had some reputation at his subjects and then, as it were, to pace himself by them. If he were uncertain how to solve a problem, he would not flounder about trying to do it himself, he would set the whole class on to it and then announce that the school swot had come up with the correct answer. The school swot ("Lotty" Loder he was called) would then be invited to come up to the blackboard and demonstrate his solution to the accompaniment of grateful and approving nods from Wally ... who, however, was calamitously found out on the day when Lotty had been introduced by his neighbor to the delights of self-abuse.
Wally by now had such trust in him that he summoned him to the blackboard without even bothering to look at his work; whereupon the wretched child came limping forward with a huge erection clearly visible under his grey shorts and no solution to propose to his audience. After a few feeble attempts at improvisation he asked to be allowed "to go to the bog, sir, please", stayed there exploring the full possibilities of his new-found hobby, and left Wally to do his own job for once.
And a sad mess Wally made of it.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
I Don't Get It, Part 2
So I'm still mulling over this "strikes" business, and the more I think about it, the madder I get, which is not a good sign. I checked with my daughter and she confirmed my suspicion that while it's possible for kids to get "strikes", there is no mechanism for a kid to get a "hit".
In other words, here's a system where any mistake or slip-up a kid might make will be carefully tallied as a "strike", but if they perform well, there's no particular recognition of that. How is this anything but de-motivating?
Why does anyone think this is a good idea?
In other words, here's a system where any mistake or slip-up a kid might make will be carefully tallied as a "strike", but if they perform well, there's no particular recognition of that. How is this anything but de-motivating?
Why does anyone think this is a good idea?
Communication
The teachers say they want to communicate with the parents, so why don't they listen to a single word we say?
I have prepared the following lecture to deliver to my daughter's hapless math teacher, Mr. Q:
"You say you want to communicate with me, so we need to find a method of communication that works for both sides.
Your proposed method, where you send my daughter home with a quiz that I'm supposed to sign, and then she forgets all about it, and then you tell her she's got a strike because she forgot to get my signature, is not a method that works for me. In fact, it offends me. It makes me angry. Therefore, that's not a useful method of communication between you and me."
If he's listened to that much, he's bound to object, as he already has, that some of the parents like signing the quiz and sending him a little note (which he leaves space for) on the quiz itself. And here's my reply:
"If some parents like to communicate by signing the quiz, bully for them. They are welcome to do so. Make it optional and let every parent decide how they would like to communicate with you.
You, the teacher, also have veto power. For instance, I might propose that I would like to communicate with you by calling you at home at 3:00 in the morning and screaming in your ear. If that method doesn't work for you, just say so, and we'll look for a mutually agreeable solution."
Now that wasn't hard, was it?
I have prepared the following lecture to deliver to my daughter's hapless math teacher, Mr. Q:
"You say you want to communicate with me, so we need to find a method of communication that works for both sides.
Your proposed method, where you send my daughter home with a quiz that I'm supposed to sign, and then she forgets all about it, and then you tell her she's got a strike because she forgot to get my signature, is not a method that works for me. In fact, it offends me. It makes me angry. Therefore, that's not a useful method of communication between you and me."
If he's listened to that much, he's bound to object, as he already has, that some of the parents like signing the quiz and sending him a little note (which he leaves space for) on the quiz itself. And here's my reply:
"If some parents like to communicate by signing the quiz, bully for them. They are welcome to do so. Make it optional and let every parent decide how they would like to communicate with you.
You, the teacher, also have veto power. For instance, I might propose that I would like to communicate with you by calling you at home at 3:00 in the morning and screaming in your ear. If that method doesn't work for you, just say so, and we'll look for a mutually agreeable solution."
Now that wasn't hard, was it?
I Don't Get It, Part 1
Part of my conversation with the math teacher Mr. Q went like this:
Me: The point is, DD is a good kid, she tries her best, and I want school to be a positive experience for her.
Mr. Q: Yes, she's a very good kid, school should be positive.
Me: So it's discouraging for her that she's in there every day doing her best, and then she forgets one trivial little detail, and she gets a strike against her.
Mr. Q: Oh, I wouldn't want her to feel discouraged or dejected or anything like that.
I don't get it! Of course it's discouraging. What does he think?
I was talking to another Mom about this and she said that at curriculum night, Mr. Q said: "all the kids will get a strike for something in the first trimester, so don't worry about it."
He's got a hand-picked group of smart, well-behaved kids, and he goes out of his way to ensure that every one of them will receive a rebuke? What's the point? Why would you do this?
I don't get it!
Me: The point is, DD is a good kid, she tries her best, and I want school to be a positive experience for her.
Mr. Q: Yes, she's a very good kid, school should be positive.
Me: So it's discouraging for her that she's in there every day doing her best, and then she forgets one trivial little detail, and she gets a strike against her.
Mr. Q: Oh, I wouldn't want her to feel discouraged or dejected or anything like that.
I don't get it! Of course it's discouraging. What does he think?
I was talking to another Mom about this and she said that at curriculum night, Mr. Q said: "all the kids will get a strike for something in the first trimester, so don't worry about it."
He's got a hand-picked group of smart, well-behaved kids, and he goes out of his way to ensure that every one of them will receive a rebuke? What's the point? Why would you do this?
I don't get it!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
conversation with a math teacher
Ow! My head exploded!
So I had a phone conversation with the math teacher, Mr. Q. It started out like this:
Mr. Q: I see you have questions about my "three strikes" policy. Let me explain. I tell the kids that each trimester is an "at bat" --
Me (interrupting): DD doesn't know what "at bat" is!
Mr. Q: Oh, well, I can talk to her about that. I don't think the strikes thing is about boys -- I tell the kids it's like baseball or softball. A couple of years ago I had 3 softball players in my class and they really liked it.
As many of these conversations do, it pretty much went downhill from there. The teacher is a young guy and he just doesn't get it. He honestly believes he's teaching "responsibility" and "study habits". He did give me a couple of PsychMom's lines, including "none of the other parents have complained!" I told him people don't usually complain, because it's unpleasant and frustrating. (Don't I know it!)
We may have made a little progress at the very end. He said he wouldn't give up "three strikes", and I said that he could at least change it so that he didn't count getting a quiz signed as part of the assignment, just like doing actual math problems. I pointed out to him that DD has never forgotten to do the math problems, because she perceives them as important. She forgot to get me to sign a quiz because she perceives that as trivial paperwork, and she's absolutely right.
I also told him that DD's opinion of him has gone down since she got a "strike", and he was genuinely surprised at this. I told him, "she can either feel bad about you, or feel bad about herself, and I'd rather have her feel bad about you."
So I had a phone conversation with the math teacher, Mr. Q. It started out like this:
Mr. Q: I see you have questions about my "three strikes" policy. Let me explain. I tell the kids that each trimester is an "at bat" --
Me (interrupting): DD doesn't know what "at bat" is!
Mr. Q: Oh, well, I can talk to her about that. I don't think the strikes thing is about boys -- I tell the kids it's like baseball or softball. A couple of years ago I had 3 softball players in my class and they really liked it.
As many of these conversations do, it pretty much went downhill from there. The teacher is a young guy and he just doesn't get it. He honestly believes he's teaching "responsibility" and "study habits". He did give me a couple of PsychMom's lines, including "none of the other parents have complained!" I told him people don't usually complain, because it's unpleasant and frustrating. (Don't I know it!)
We may have made a little progress at the very end. He said he wouldn't give up "three strikes", and I said that he could at least change it so that he didn't count getting a quiz signed as part of the assignment, just like doing actual math problems. I pointed out to him that DD has never forgotten to do the math problems, because she perceives them as important. She forgot to get me to sign a quiz because she perceives that as trivial paperwork, and she's absolutely right.
I also told him that DD's opinion of him has gone down since she got a "strike", and he was genuinely surprised at this. I told him, "she can either feel bad about you, or feel bad about herself, and I'd rather have her feel bad about you."
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