Today is a good day to love

Today, our expectations are probably raised, perhaps prematurely, perhaps unrealistically, for the SCOTUS to resolve one of the great issues of our time in the manner in which we'd prefer. 

But our expectations should be raised, and raised now, for ourselves. We should love more completely, behave more responsibly, and be better at supporting and caring for both our friends and distant strangers -- unknown to us, except as human beings, which should be enough for us to do what is good and right.

I wanted to write some soaring polemic. But increasingly, I can't. And that might be a good thing. You've helped me as a human being grow beyond the love of abstract justice and care more about individual people, and how the laws of this country affect you. Your goodness to me has helped me grow from a homophobe to someone who cares more about this social justice issue than any other. 

Like any new convert, I've had to learn wisdom-- I can't bully or argue equality to my conservative religious family members anymore. I can advocate, gently. But I have to listen as well. It is difficult, even painful at times, but it is probably far less painful than perhaps some of the conversations some of you have had with loved ones. 

Here, love triumphs as well. Contrary to my fears, I haven't had to pick between them and you. And I think, if I were gay, they would still love me. It's perhaps small comfort to those of you dealing with Prop 8, but it's no exaggeration that I believed same-sex marriage and equal rights had the potential to split me from them.

So I have no expectations for the hearings today or tomorrow, or even the ruling in a few months. What I will expect of myself is to be somewhat more generous, somewhat more kind, somewhat more thoughtful to my LGBT kin. Some of you I consider family. It is time for me to behave like family, and let you know, more regularly, and more clearly, how much you are loved -- not as a cause, but as a person.

Why Mr. Weaver was both the best and the worst physics teacher ever

Given all the physics education stories I've told, I'm surprised I haven't written about this before. Granted, it was a while ago (pre-9/11), so my memories (and associated emotions) aren't nearly as strong. But it's worth writing, so non-Rosemead High School students get a taste of where I was coming from upon entering Harvey Mudd College.

In 1999, Mr. Weaver was a late-50s man who, by his own admission, was a burned-out mechanical engineer that had somehow ended up in teaching. I don't know if he started teaching right after college, or if he had been a practicing engineer until the aerospace layoffs of the 1970s or 1980s.

He bore a disturbing resemblance to Hannibal Lecter. Appearance-wise, not so much; he had a full head of hair, always parted to the left, and was less physically imposing than Lecter. But he did have these blueish-gray eyes, at once piercing and vacant. More than his appearance, his soft, vague, enervated tones made one think of Dr. Lecter.

It's not just me and my unhealthy fascination with serial killers, real or fictional. The Lecter-esque quality has been confirmed by multiple classmates. His language was not nearly as eloquent or energetic as Lecter, but was filled with these vague, straight-faced quirks of speech.

Anyway, this was how AP Physics B shook out. The first day, Mr. Weaver stood in front of class and gave a brief lecture about general things about this class. I honestly don't remember what he talked about, but some of it went over my head. I think he sprinkled a bit of statistics in there, and I would not take that [excellent] class until next year with -- and I'm not joking -- Mrs. Flaws.

During the next 180 or so days of instruction, there wasn't a single lecture. Not a one. He'd assign homework by writing it on the board. But, if memory serves, he wouldn't address the class as a whole again (barring, say, a fire drill).

So all of my introduction to physics was self-taught. I was helped along by the competitive pressures (some would say harassment) of a precocious Vietnamese student who was probably two or three years ahead of the rest of us in both math and science. (Contrary to expectations, he didn't major in physics -- he went the med school route, which I believe has been more financially and personally profitable than a physics trajectory, anyway. Huy, if you're reading this, you're welcome.)

We did have labs, and to his credit, Mr. Weaver did show us how to use the air track and other equipment. But only if we cared enough to ask.

Needless to say, without management, classroom management fell apart. The seniors were the first casualty -- a lot of them stopped doing homework. Seniors and juniors would use the class (after lunch) as a second lunch hour, sitting cross-legged on the tables in circles to eat. After telling one of my students the story of this class, he asked, "Wasn't he worried about getting caught by the principal?" The answer had to be no, which I suppose demonstrated the systemic nature of the problem. My personal experience indicates that there was more attention paid to the slipping of the word "necrophilia" into the school newspaper, or illicit trips to the In-n-Out burger during classroom hours, than to physics instruction.

So yeah, almost no one cared. I remember doing a lab in which I was doing error analysis while the rest of the group was watching American Pie. I do remember generating some messed up system of error analysis; this is also the class where I taught myself Excel.

He did grade the homework and labs submitted, and did give tests.

Around second semester, some of the seniors started to realize that they were failing this course, and that an F in this (and other) courses could jeopardize their admission to various colleges. "Ruh roh!" (I think that's a direct quote from Mr. Weaver.) I don't know if he pity-passed anyone, but it was mildly amusing to see someone try to muscle through E&M and optics, having paid zero attention to any of the preceding physics.

Also, at some point, he dyed his hair brown. He then disappeared for a couple weeks. When he came back, we learned he had married a Japanese woman. Weird.

Yes, he was the worst physics teacher I'd ever known. He wasn't hostile; he wasn't ignorant. He was simply a non-factor. He demonstrated all the fucks he didn't give before the meme existed.

I don't know if people in those classes hated physics. It could be argued that they are actually more positive about physics than average precisely because it was less instructional, and more food-centered.

So my preparation for physics going into Harvey Mudd College was, well, less than adequate. And it probably did contribute to the disconnect between what I thought physics was and what it actually was.

But maybe he was a secret genius, and a master teacher. Maybe he knew that no one could get through a physics degree without a great deal of self-motivation. And I, being tested by the crucible of a nearly worthless teacher, learned to learn on my own, and passed this life test of self-learning.

Or maybe he was a useless piece of crap protected by seniority, union rules, a relatively inactive parent pool, and the fact that he didn't commit any actual crimes while teaching.

So to all of you who had legendary teachers that set you on the path to learning, I applaud you and celebrate your good fortune or the blessings of a good zip code. But for the rest of you, please don't use a bad teacher as an excuse for poor knowledge or hatred of a subject. Our wisdom and understanding are shaped by our experiences. But we do have agency of our own, and sometimes discover different and important things about ourselves when forced onto more lonely, less familiar paths.

FDR Campaign Address at Detroit, Michigan, October 2, 1932

This is, by far, a timely find. I was searching for some FDR quip when I stumbled across this.

http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/index.php?pid=88393

Read it, and be amazed, as I am, how it applies, verbatim, to today.

Why is physics scarier than other math/science classes?

After some discussion with my student (geometry/chemistry) tonight, I think I have an answer to a question that plagued me for a while: why is physics scary?

It's scary because it's the first (and last) exposure to multi-step, multi-tool problem solving in math and science.
I had a high school student who found precalculus easy (or at least manageable, even that nasty stuff toward the end) but struggled mightily with physics problem solving. I couldn't figure it out for a while.

At first I thought it was that I found it easier to teach precalculus; the book is set up nicely, and I don't have to worry about abstract concepts (except insofar that I tried to tie it to useful stuff).

Then I thought maybe it had to do with the student having a weak science background. But by her own admission, she had both a weak math and science background.

It wasn't work ethic; this student worked a lot, both in class and outside. (I was dorm RA, so I knew studying was happening even outside of school hours.)

And I couldn't just chalk it up to "being Chinese", and the stereotype that Asian education consists of rote memorization and drills, leading to mathematical fluency but deficient creativity. (I secretly suspect this is an excuse perpetuated by Westerners to ignore the severe gap in educational readiness vis a vis other nations.) "Western" students in the same classes exhibited this pattern, too.

Eventually, it came down to this multi-step, multi-tool problem. Both she and I determined this independently.

***

In the typical high school math class, you solve problems by using a single trick or tool.

In biology, you mostly memorize a bunch of concepts and vocabulary, which are evidently important skills in the first year of med school.

Chemistry presents perhaps the strongest challenge to this thesis. It is possible to generate a multi-step, multi-tool problem in chemistry. There's a reaction, and you have to figure out it's yield and reaction type. First, you might have to do some stoichiometry to balance the equation. Then, you might have to figure out Lewis structures to determine the number and type of bonds, and then calculate the binding dissociation energies. You can then figure out if the equation is endothermic or exothermic. Maybe you adjust the calculation using phase transitions. Then you can determine molar masses, and compare the expected mass to the measured mass, or some other contrived number that allows you to calculate the yield.

So maybe chemistry is the first opportunity. But my experience indicates that plenty of students muddle through chemistry and hit a solid brick wall when they take physics. So there's something different about it.

I think chemistry, in principle, can be taught with emphasis on using multi-step, multi-tool problems to solve chemistry problems. But in practice, it looks like that's not done. I don't have a good explanation why that is; I've never taught a chemistry course. (Those who tutor, teach or study chemistry: your input is definitely welcome.)

***

In general, in the sciences, the problem statements are longer and more involved, making it less practical to have students do a number of problems on a single concept to hammer it in (as it's done in math). As much as we'd like to think otherwise, repetition and drills really do help cement a concept.

Maybe physics would be better if we could better segment subject material, and have more practice problems limited to one topic. This is different than how most textbooks are set up. Most of the better textbooks I've seen have, at the end of the chapter, problems grouped by topic, and prefaced with qualitative questions. It's not like a math book, where the section/chapter problems are divided into clusters in which you are asked to basically do the same thing over and over.

Physics, as a multi-step, multi-tool discipline, requires that all the tools work, and all the steps are clear. Maybe in other classes, even chemistry, a student can half-ass Lewis structures and still get an A. But it's just not possible to half-ass, say, linear momentum and be able to learn the rest. (Chemists: feel free to quibble and argue that the analogy ain't fair; I'll argue that even precious PV=nRT can be botched without irreparable damage to the rest of chemistry learning and the final grade.)

I'm not arguing that physics is better, or necessarily more complicated. But it is different.

Anyway, I think I'm going to revise how I teach physics. I basically need to generate drills, in addition to the problem-solving organizational methods that I'd ask them to use to convey their knowledge in a solution.

Law 5: So Much Depends On Reputation--Guard It With Your Life

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW I

During China's War of the Three Kingdoms (A.D. 207-265), the greate general Chuko Liang, leading the forces of the Shu Kingdom, dispatched his vast army to a distant camp while he rested in a small town with a handful of soldiers. Suddenly sentinels hurried in with the alarming news that an enemy force of over 150,000 troops under Sima Yi was approaching. With only a hundred men to defend him, Chuko Liang's situation was hopeless. The enemy would finally capture this renowned leader.

Without lameting his fate, or wasting time trying to figure out how he had been caught, Liang ordered his troops to take down their flags, throw open the city gates, and hide. He himself then took a seat on the most visible part of teh city's wall, wearing a Taoist robe. He lit some incense, strummed his lute, and began to chant. Minutes later he could see the vast enemy army approaching, an endless phalanx of soldiers. Pretending not to notice them, he continued to sing and play the lute.

Soon the army stood at the town gates. At its head was Sima Yi, who instantly recognized the man on the wall.

Even so, as his soldiers itched to enter the unguarded town through its open gates, Sima Yi hesitated, held them back, and studied Liang on the wall. Then, he ordered an immediate and speedy retreat.

Interpretation

Chuko Liang was commonly known as the "Sleeping Dragon." ...The Sleeping Dragon carefully cultivated his reputation of being the cleverest man in China, one who always had a trick up his sleeve. As powerful as any weapon, this reputation struck fear into his enemy.

Sima Yi had fought against Chuko Liang dozens of times and knew him well. When he came on the empty city, with Liang praying on the wall, he was stunned. The Taoist robes, the chanting, the incense--this had to be a game of intimidation. The man was obviously taunting him, daring him to walk into a trap. The game was so obvious that for one moment it crossed Yi's mind that Liang actually was alone, and desperate. But so great was his fear of Liang that he dared not risk finding out. Such is the power of reputation. It can put a vast army on the defensive, even force them into retreat, without a single arrow being fired.

(from The 48 Laws of Power, by Robert Greene)

Law 9: Win through your actions, never through argument

TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW

In 131 B.C., the Roman consul Publius Crassus Dives Mucianus, laying siege to the Greek town of Pergamus, found himself in need of a battering ram to force through the town's walls. He had seen a couple of hefty ship's masts in a shipyard in Athens a few days before, and he ordered that the larger of these be sent to him immediately  The military engineer in Athens who received the order felt certain that the consul really wanted the smaller of the masts. He argued endlessly with the soldiers who delivered the request: The smaller mast, he told them, was much better suited to the task. And indeed it would be easier to transport.

The soldiers warned the engineer that their master was not a man to argue with, but he insisted that the smaller mast would be the only one that would work with a machine that he was constructing to go with it. He drew diagram after diagram, and went so far as to say that he was the expert and they had no clue what they were talking about. The soldiers knew their leader and at last convinced the engineer that it would be better to swallow his expertise and obey.

After they left, though, the engineer thought about it some more. What was the point, he asked himself, in obeying an order that would lead to failure? And so he sent the smaller mast, confident that the consul would see how much more effective it was and reward him justly.

When the smaller mast arrived, Mucianus asked his soldiers for an explanation. They described to him how the engineer had argued endlessly for the smaller mast, but had finally promised to send the larger one. Mucianus went into a rage. He could not concentrate on the siege, or consider the importance of breaching the walls before the town received reinforcements. All he could think aout was the impudent engineer, whom he ordered to be brought to him immediately.

Arriving a few days later, the engineer gladly explained to the consul, one more time, the reasons for the smaller mast. He went on and on, using the same arguments he had made with the soldiers. He said it was wise to listen to experts in these matters, and if the attack was only tried with the battering ram he had sent, the consul would not regret it. Mucianus let him finish, then had him stripped naked before the soldiers and flogged and scourged with rods until he died.

-The 48 Laws of Power

teaching physics to high school students - a true story

I've told this story before. But it's good enough to immortalize.

I used to teach high school physics (in addition to six other subjects every day) at a private boarding school. It was a pretty rotten job for a number of reasons, though the students themselves were pretty funny. The vast majority were from mainland China, though we had a couple Koreans, a Russian, a Dane, and two Americans.

Even though nearly everyone was not from "here", certain aspects of humor seemed universal.

I was trying to teach some of my students about rotational motion. This is often cited as the most difficult part of mechanics, and, for some, the most difficult part of the entire course. It was an algebra-based course, so it didn't involve cool integrals of nonuniform shapes or utilize nonuniform densities. Everything was pretty boring -- a rectangular prism, a sphere, a rod, a disk, a hoop, a sphere, and, occasionally, a hollow sphere. (That reminds me - I should look into calculations for a right cone. That would probably blow my mind.)

I was explaining the different rates of speed achieved by different shapes. Because different objects have different moments of inertia (an expression for how the mass is distributed throughout the shape that affects rotation), they split their energy in different ways between translational motion (moving in linear direction) and rotational motion (spinning). So a disk, a sphere, and a hoop, all with the same radius and mass, will move down a ramp at different speeds because they have different moments of inertia.

I drew something like this:

Needless to say, as a first-year teacher, I was unprepared for the howls of laughter. I looked at this and saw the finishing order for a sphere (gray), a disk/cylinder/can, and a hoop.

They, of course, saw a cock and balls.

Atwood's machine was also troubling:

Anyway, I ended up putting the question involving rotational motion down a ramp for a sphere, a cylinder, and a hoop, all of mass M and radius R, on a quiz. One particularly lazy/uninspired student answered this question, and this one only. He answered it by drawing the picture above, eight times in the space provided for an answer.

What was I to do? He was technically right. So I gave him full credit. Besides, that was the only thing he had written on the quiz, and I didn't feel like handing out a zero that day. He still failed the quiz and the class.

The moral of the story: high school boys are very much the same across cultures.