Mansplaining mathematics

Well, mathematics and teaching.

First, let me clarify what I mean by mansplaining. It is not, as some people misinterpret it to mean, any time a man explains something to a woman. Mansplaining is what happens when a man knows that a woman has considerable knowledge in a field, and still decided he needs to explain some basic principle of the field to her. It is more broadly a sign of men (not all men!) disrespecting and devaluing women’s knowledge and expertise.

Mandatory XKCD

For example, when I meet with my advisor and he explains some mistake I’ve made in a proof, or a concept I’ve misunderstood, that is not mansplaining. He has more knowledge than me, and I’ve clearly demonstrated that I need the explanation.

On the other hand, when my brother  decides he needs to explain to me (working on my PhD in probabilistic combinatorics) how lottery tickets  work, that is mansplaining. I made a joke about how it said that every fourth ticket was a win, and I’d not won anything on my six tickets and thus should ask for my money back. He decided that clearly it was serious and I needed to be educated on what “one in four” means, and why it was in fact probably to not win anything on six tickets. Clearly my several semesters of advanced probability theory are useless next to his high school degree.

When I have a booth at a science fair aimed at the general public, and two men respond to hearing that I’m working on my PhD in mathematics by telling me condescendingly that I should watch “The Code” on Netflix to further my education, that is mansplaining. Both of these charming gentlemen were engineers, so had some limited knowledge in mathematics. They still decided that they were qualified to recommend a TV series as a good way to further my graduate studies in the subject area. Not as entertainment for me, but as education. One of them even proceeded to act hurt when I didn’t express my gratitude for the recommendation, and ask me why I wasn’t writing down the name of the series. I don’t know, maybe something about the 10 people sitting in the booth waiting for me to show them how to play Nim?

When I’m having a discussion with a fellow PhD student at a party about university admissions, and an undergrad with zero teaching experience, zero knowledge about public policy, and zero knowledge about pedagogics butts in to tell me that I’m wrong, high school grades are a better predictor for success than motivation, that is mansplaining. The other grad student and I were both backing up our arguments with research studies from our mathematics teaching seminar: the undergrad was just convinced that his ideas were just as valid as our research studies, if not more. He then proceeded to inform us that since he had once explained Lagrange multipliers to his 12-year old brother, high school is pointless and all university instructors are incompetent.

All these three are examples of men assuming without any cause that they could educate me on something they knew I am knowledgeable about. They knew about my graduate studies, the undergrad heard me quote studies to support my view, and still they persisted, thinking that their ignorance is valuable to me.

Please, stop. Before you explain something to a woman, think about it. Did she ask for an explanation? Did you make sure you actually know more about the area than her before starting? Is the explanation even necessary at this point in time? Before you offer advice on say a study plan for a PhD student, think about it. Were you asked for advice? Do you actually know anything about the area?

Almost all women have these experiences, and they are terrible. We come out of them either feeling like men don’t even acknowledge our education and experiences, or ready to laugh at how pathetic you are. Usually it’s some mix of both. For some more examples of truly egregious mansplaining, check out this Tumblr: Academic Men Explain Things To Me

Do you know what’s really sad?

My examples are all from the past three weeks.

What’s with all the calculus?

I hate calculus. So, so much. I hate that the first type of mathematics students see at university (the only kind for many of them) is calculus. No one does research in trigonometry. Real analysis is a vibrant research area, but modern real analysis has little to do with the series of tricks we expect students to learn in calculus class. That’s actually what annoys me the most: the calculus curricula are not about understanding calculus, but rather memorizing a series of tricks to then regurgitate them during the 4 (!) midterms and the final.

If I had a say in the development of mathematics courses at university, this is what I’d do:

Scrap calculus. The general math requirement would be fulfilled by a general introduction to mathematics. We would study the unit circle, coordinate geometry, basic number theory, basic combinatorics, the idea of limits, some interesting probability theory, and some graph theory. This course would introduce the breadth of mathematics, and be a proof-based course.

For science majors, there would be a calculus sequence that prepared them for engineering, physics, and applied mathematics. Since only science majors would take this class, it could be taught considerably faster than current calculus classes. The first semester would cover advanced trigonometry, derivatives, and integrals, the second multivariable calculus, and the third differential equations. This could be well integrated with the science courses to make it even more relevant to the students that actually need to take the calculus sequence.

Math majors would not waste two years taking calculus and differential equations before getting to the real math. Instead, they would take introduction to mathematics, and the first course in the calculus sequence. During their second semester, they would be encouraged to take courses like real analysis, linear algebra, abstract algebra, combinatorics, probability theory and number theory in parallel with the second calculus course.

All courses would be proof-based, for both math majors and non-majors. Any class that consists of learning and regurgitating a series of tricks does not belong at university, and I’m a bit ashamed that I’m TAing one right now. We skip all of the beautiful theory underlying calculus, and simply test the students on how well they can regurgitate tricks in a test situation. I read something wonderful on one of my favourite blogs, Math with Bad Drawings, the other day: math tests should be like Turing tests. They should test if there is something intelligent on the other side; something more than what a computer can do. I feel that the same should hold for math classes in general. If they don’t teach you anything that a computer can’t do, the class should not exist. And that’s why I want to scrap calculus as the introductory math class.

Many students sadly don’t have the background or motivation to learn the interesting parts of calculus, so introductory calculus classes focus on just teaching tricks instead. Moreover, the calculus sequence leaves students with a warped idea of what maths and maths research are. It’s not about tricks or calculating values. It’s about understanding how it all fits together, and how to use small pieces that other people found to build bigger things. I wish that the introductory math classes introduced the feeling you get when you managed to get all the pieces to fit together, and prove something for the first time.

What do you think?

On academic dress

As a somewhat stylish young female scientist, I find myself thinking about the academic dress code. Long gone are the days when academic robes were required to lecture, and the dress code “academic slob” has taken its place. I’ve had lecturers who wear 20 year old t-shirts with holes that show their belly, and lecturers that wear flip flops and khaki shorts every day. Only a single one of my current professors wears slacks and a button-down on a daily basis. And this is most visible in the STEM subjects.

I care about what I wear. There. I said it. There is an attitude in STEM that someone who cares about what they wear is automatically a less competent researcher. However, I was raised to think that wearing nice clothes is a way to show respect to your surroundings and the job your are there to do. Putting on a nice work-appropriate summer dress and a pair of matching ballet flats is a way to show that I care about my job, and that I respect my fellow academics and students. To me, showing up to work looking like you just finished weeding the garden is disrespectful. You don’t show any concern for your coworkers, your students, or your profession dressed in “academic slob”. It doesn’t take longer to put on a dress or a pair of khakis and a button-down shirt (they make wrinkle-resistant ones now, so you don’t even have to iron anything) than it takes to throw on a pair of worn shorts and a holey t-shirt. There is literally no more effort required, but you immediately show that you take yourself, your coworkers, and your profession seriously.

I’m not saying that men should wear a tie and women pencil skirts. That would be excessive. However, would it really be that bad to care just a little that you look like a professional? Tho care how you come across? An argument I’ve heard often why academics should dress down is that it makes us more approachable. That’s bullshit. The only thing I’ve felt and heard from others when faced with yet another lecturer in a tshirt that bares part of a hairy belly is disappointment. It makes students feel like you don’t even care enough about the lecture to put on clothes that fit. If you know your subject, students will respect you for that, but they still feel like you don’t care, so why should they make an effort? Dressing nice is simply a sign of respect for you environment. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Could we all agree to make an attempt? Change the standard from “academic slob” to “academic chic”, and once again take pride in our profession. Put on some clothes that you wouldn’t wear to the gym, or to weed your garden. Some clothes that actually fit you, not clothes that fit the body you had 20 years ago. Showing a sliver of belly is not professional for men or women. It does not make you more approachable. It makes you look less professional. It makes you look like you don’t care about your job, your students or your coworkers.