Monday, November 19, 2007

I wish I could try kindergarten again


One of my students put this on the bottom of the front page of her homework assignment. Pretty darn cool. (The writing in green ink is mine. I don't usually grade in red.)

It strongly reminds me of stuff we did in kindergarten, except possibly for the Pi. But I don't know, maybe my kindergarten wasn't as advanced as everyone else's.




I realized that when I imagine people dressing up for school, I imagine everyone is wearing robes and House-colored ties like in the Harry Potter movies. Since we don't exactly have houses, our colors could be based on what we study. Symplectic things make me think of purple, and Lie group things make me think of green. Analysis should be red, and algebraic geometry yellow. Algebra makes me think of blue. I'm leaving a lot out. I'd have to give this some more thought.

And although I have nothing but warm feelings for purple and green, they are not generally my favorite colors to wear.

Which subject would be the mathematical equivalent of Slytherin? Hmmmmm...

I look forward to the day I graduate from Cornell. There are many reasons for this, but I think by far the most important one is that I'll get to wear a robe. This is dangerous though, because I'm pretty sure that once I put that robe on, it is never ever ever coming off again. Robes are a LOT of fun.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Technology in the bathroom


I covered my friend Sarah's classes last Wednesday and Friday, while she was out in the world spreading the good word of complex dynamics. I decided to dress up.

I had to wear a tie every day when I worked in a pharmacy (since apparently someone wearing a tie is less likely to miscount pills), but here in graduate school we only really have a chance to dress up once a year, at our Holiday Party. (Your last year is an exception, since it's not unusual to dress up for your thesis defense, the department graduation ceremony, and the university graduation ceremony.) I'm not in favor of mandatory dressing up for classes, but occasionally I think it's funny. I mean, fun.




Have you ever been in the bathroom and you hear someone in a stall talking to themselves? And then you realize that he's talking on his cell phone? (My use of male pronouns is not meant to suggest that only men do this, but rather that I've never been in a bathroom where it's a woman who's in the stall. At least not that I'm aware of.) The first time this happened to me, I thought it was incredibly weird and inappropriate. This opinion has not changed with repetition of the occurrence, but I now realize that it's not so uncommon. I still find it a little disturbing.

On the other hand, last week I was at the urinal, and the guy next to me had his iPod and headphones on. It was on so loud that I could hear it. I think I approve of this. I like peeing to a soundtrack. (It would probably depend what kind of music it is. This requires further thought.)

I'm sure that part of the reason the music was so easy to hear is that men's rooms are, as a rule, as quiet as the vacuum of space. Up until this cell phone thing, talking in a men's room was considered the very baddest of bad form.

This is not completely true. Sometimes there is talking, but this is fairly unusual. Usually a friendly nod of recognition, or even a neutral nod of recognition, is more than enough.

I remember several years ago a friend telling me about a computer game whose object was to choose the optimal urinal in a men's room, in different situations. Things to take into consideration are that you don't want to be too near the door or the sinks, and you want to maximize your distance from everyone else. Specific conditions of the particular urinals would also come into play. Clearly someone was not wasting his time while using the urinal. Someone was thinking.




Speaking of technology in the bathroom, what do we think of these automated faucets, soap dispensers, and paper towel/hot air dispensers? I myself am perfectly okay with the faucets. It's true that sometimes the water doesn't stay on long enough, but this is no worse than those faucets with the spring-loaded handles. It's a question of adjustment, not complete reconception.

The paper towel and/or hot air dispensers I am not too happy with. I have had too many bad experiences with these contraptions. I have memories of waving my hands underneath with varying speeds and at varying angles. I try making different gestures with my fingers. I try standing in a different position relative to the machine. And I usually end up just using my pants.

And the automated soap dispensers. Hmmm. This may be particular to me. Tell me if I'm crazy. I find these machines far too reminiscent of the male aspect of the culmination of the sexual act for comfort.




New topic. As I was driving to school this afternoon, I noticed something very sad. Along the road there had been a large hilly area of thick grass, bordered on the far sides by dabbles of forest. This road is how I usually walk to school, when I walk to school, and I've always thought this part quite lovely and peaceful and enjoyable. A couple of weeks ago I noticed some chain link fences going up, and indeed when I drove past it today, I saw the beginnings of some large construction project.

This is nothing particularly unusual for Cornell, or really for any college, large or small. But it was still disappointing.

The thing that really struck me is that, across the street from this, there are also nice hilly areas of grass, bordered by trees. The difference is that this second site is home to a gold course.

So on one side of the road we have a beautiful little pastoral picture, thick and lovely and green for at least three seasons out of the year. On the other side we have the same basic scene, except sporadically decorated with sandtraps and flags and tiny little cars. One useless (materially speaking), one used for golf. And we destroy the useless one.

I like golf, but I can't help but feel that our priorities are not exactly where they should be.

To sooth you, here is another wonderful photo of dressed-up Tim.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Dream come true.


This is a picture of my tongue after consuming a fruit punch-flavored lollipop. The pop itself was red, but for some reason turned my tongue extremely pink. I went up to my office mate and asked him if he wanted to see something weird. He said yes, so I stuck out my tongue. He gave out a little yelp and hopped back a bit.

I was thinking it might be fun to collect pictures of me with my tongue different colors, and in fact tonight I had a blue raspberry beverage at the movies and it turned my tongue blue. I took a couple of pictures with my phone, but for some reason they seem a lot more disgusting than the one above, so I'll try to repeat the experiment some other time.

It is not to this whole thing that the title of this entry refers. (I originally wrote that sentence ending in "to", but changed to avoid the hanging preposition. It seems much more awkward now, but I think it has a kind of fascinating ugliness.)




Tonight I got to do something I've thought about doing many, many times before. Have you ever been waiting to turn left at a red light, and the light is taking forever to change, and absolutely no other car is in sight anywhere? Have you ever thought about making a right turn on the red light, making a U-turn, and then going through the light that has not changed and so is still green?

Well, tonight I did it. I was waiting at a light, and for at least two solid minutes the light did not change. Absolutely, positively no one in sight. It was 2:30 AM. So I changed my directional signal from left to right, looked both ways (and indeed there was still no one in sight), and made the right turn. I went a very short way, put on my left turn signal, checked in front of me and behind me, and made a quick U-turn. The light was still unchanged (and indeed may very well be unchanged now still), so I went through it.

It. Was. Awesome.

I highly recommend you try it, at least once in your life.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

More solutions in the back of the book.

No, wait! I remember what I wanted to finish with.

Here is my solution to dealing with answers in the back of the book, if I am the teacher in charge. For each problem I assign, tell them to replace the numbers in the problem with different numbers I give them. So, they can still do the original problems and check their answers with the ones in the back of the book, but they don't know the answer to the assigned problem! And so the grader is off the hook.

I should say that, when I am taking a course, I greatly appreciate having the answers in the back. It's very helpful. I wish more advanced textbooks did this. I wish to God that more advanced textbooks did this. And some of them, God bless them, do. But solutions for more advanced texts are usually not short things, so I kind of understand why they're usually not included.

Solutions are good for students, but bad for graders.

Solutions in the back of the book.

This semester, my Teaching Assistant assignment is being the grader for two courses. They are both upper-level undergraduate courses, having to do with math that's in my neck of the woods. The topics and assignments are pretty fun. One of them, Matrix Groups, is taught by my advisor. It's a tough course, with tough assignments. True to form, all of his assignments are really interesting and lead the exercise-ee to wonderful and useful mathematical topics.

But I want to write today about the other course, Differential Forms and Manifolds. We're working out of a textbook by Stephen Weintraub. It's a nice book, although not as sophisticated as some others. The course is usually taught out of a really fantastic set of notes written by my advisor, but someone somewhere decided that the course would use Weintraub's book this semester instead. This is fine. It's a nice enough book.

What is bothering me is that nearly all of the solutions are in the back of the book. These are not step-by-step solutions, just the final answers. But by allowing students access to the final answers, the textbook has short-circuited one of the grader's most important shortcuts.

This is only a 50% TA assignment for me, so even though there are fewer than 10 students in the class, there's no way I can read and think about every single word and symbol in the students' homeworks. But I usually don't have to. I can check certain key parts of their solutions, and I can see if their answers have the right "shape". If they were doing the correct calculations, if they have set up the correct integrals, the formulas should have a certain length and complexity, and in general a certain shape. Certain precise parts of the content may be incorrect, but they are probably only minor mistakes. And of course, the grader can check the students' final answers.

(This technique, of checking the "shape" of a student's solution, is also applicable to grading proofs as well as calculations, which is very convenient. When a math problem asks you to prove something, you usually already know what the final answer should be, so there's no sense in the grader checking that. Although, students do have a remarkable capacity for being stupid (or, if you prefer, for making silly mistakes). And of course, this included graduate students ...)

This is not high school math, or even beginning college math. The answers are not usually 1 or 5 or -2. More often, they are things like -95/3, or 3252 times Pi, or the square root of 5 divided by negative 2. Barring students copying from one another, you've got to figure that the answers are generally such weird numbers that there is simply no way that the student could have gotten the right answer without doing the problem correctly, unless there was some miraculous alignment of multiple mistakes.

But if the students already know what the final answer is, all bets are off! There is an exception, and this is in the wonderful circumstance that the answer in the back of the book is correct. Then the grader can go to town with the red ink.

I found this especially troubling in the last assignment, which dealt with the Generalized Stokes' Theorem. This marvelous theorem connects integrals over a manifold with integrals over its boundary. In a sense, it is simply an extension of the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus to much more complicated situations. I never actually learned the theorem in Multivariable Calculus. We didn't get that far. My first real exposure to it was when I took Differentiable Manifolds as a second-year grad student.

So in most of last week's exercises, the students were asked to verify Stokes' Theorem, for different objects. This amounted to computing an integral over a manifold, which was always a surface or solid body in three-dimensional space; then figuring out what the boundary of the manifold is, which would have been several curves or several surfaces; then computing some other integrals over the boundary of the manifold; and finally showing the these integrals gave you the same answer. This last part means showing that one number is equal to the sum of the others.

The main complication is that you actually want to add some of the numbers, and subtract the others. This has to do with orientations, which is a subtle and sneaky and confusing topic, and it's clear that many of the students have yet to come to grips with it.

Here's the problem. Usually there were only two numbers to put together, i.e. the boundary consisted of two pieces, and the only question is whether you add them, negate both of them and add them, negate one of them and add them, or negate the other and add them. But it's impossible to tell whether they really knew what they were doing, because they already knew what answer they were supposed to get, so they just did whatever gave the right answer!

If they only knew what answer they should get based on the other integral they calculated, that would be fine. Because then one calculation serves as a check for the other. But for all the integrals, they already knew what answer they should have been getting! The book told them! I had students who weren't able to do the problem, but who wrote down what the answer should be! As if that was an astonishing announcement!

I sense that I am ranting. I think I'll get back to work now.