Math Rant: Screwy Stats

I have to say, I love me some statistics. Have I collected student scores and done a little analysis? Why, yes, I have. Have I collected and graphed data related to my writing? Oh, wait, you already know I have.

The thing is, I also know the limitations of statistics—what it takes for them to be meaningful, how far you can or can’t take the results. That data I analyze from my students? I use it to give me some direction as a teacher, figuring whether things are improving, whether a particular concept fell through the cracks, etc. Not much more than that.

As we all know, of course, statistics on education can get used for a lot more. I get the need for assessment (in some form) and accountability (in some form), but often when I see articles reporting school success/failure, I wonder if the people involved have the first clue about statistics.

Case in point: I recently saw an online report about the 50 best and 50 worst schools in the state, in reference to percentage of students achieving proficiency on the state’s high-stake testing. It reported results for Language Arts, Science, and Math.

The first thing that struck me was that whether looking at the 50 best or 50 worst, the percent passing math was WAY lower than the other two the majority of the time. That made me scratch my head, so I glanced down at the comments.

Several people noted that AP students didn’t take the state test.

I haven’t had a chance to dig into it yet, but if true, it makes those reported percentages almost meaningless. “We want to see how your school measures up … but we’re not going to count the top students.”

This is why when I see statistics reported, I have next-to-no reaction. Not until I know more about where the numbers are coming from. In broader situations, I ask myself questions like, who was included in the sample? How was the sample selected? How were questions worded?

Be careful when reporting statistics as part of an argument. They may or may not back you up as much as you think. Dig a little deeper to find the whole story.

ETA: Did my own digging-a-little-deeper, and it’s actually worse than I thought. The last math courses to participate in the state test are Algebra I and Geometry. The website was reporting on the results of high schools, many of which around here are only grades 10-12. By that time, even the “average” students are past those levels. So the published results only showed the proficiency of the lowest group. No wonder the math percentages were so much worse than the other subjects (which I believe test higher numbers of students in high school).

Have you run into questionable statistics? Any pet peeves on how you see them reported? Do you find yourself completely confuzzled when facing the numbers?

Things that Make You Go *Headdesk*

(If you’re internet-uninitiated and don’t have an immediate visual for “headdesk” then go run an image search.)

We all have things that drive us to that point of cranium-meets-office-furniture. Some big, some small. And once in a while, you need to vent about those headdesk moments.

Here are a few I’ve come across lately:

• Idiots who start wildfires. Yeah, sometimes they’re started by lightning. Sometimes they’re started by accidents that are honestly out of anyone’s control. But it seems like lately it’s a lot of target shooting or fireworks in obviously unwise areas. (It’s a desert, people. Have a clue.)

• Misspellings of “definitely,” such as definately or definatly. (Yeah, I’m illustrating the full range of *headdesks* from significant to trivial.) While we’re at it, mix-ups of rein/reign. If you’re out of control, someone needs to rein you in. If someone’s ruling you, they’re reigning over you.

• People who argue/talk back to judges on reality/talent shows. Especially on Hell’s Kitchen when Gordon Ramsay tells a chef to get out and they argue that they want to stay. Haven’t they seen the show before? When he says go, you just go.

That’s probably more than enough for one day.

How about you? What’s made you go *headdesk* lately? Go ahead and vent. Sometimes you just have to.

Putting the Sci in Sci-Fi

I’ve written before about world-building, focusing on the art of weaving it into the body of our stories. It’s a necessary part of pretty much any genre of fiction to one degree or another, but particularly in speculative and historical fiction. Right now, I’m going to focus on a different aspect of world-building, specifically in science fiction.

Forget working in the details. I want to talk about whether the details work.

It’s science fiction, right? Fiction, as in made up. Yeah, but you also have the ‘science’ part. You want things to be a little out there, imaginative, something the reader hasn’t thought of before, but now that you suggested it, “Yes, that’s so awesome!” At the same time, you don’t want it to enter the realm of, “But that’s totally impossible!”

Finding the balance between scientific feasibility and creative license isn’t easy. I don’t think I know any writers who don’t dive in and do some research when they find they need to. There are natural limitations. (For example, check out the letter Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry sent Isaac Asimov in response to the latter’s criticism of the television series.)

However, I’ve come across instances where I feel like authors didn’t realize they needed to do a little research. Maybe they lacked the background knowledge. Maybe they just didn’t think it through from the angle I naturally look from. Maybe they put more emphasis on what worked for their plot than what actually works from a logical world-building perspective.

Maybe I’m just a science snob.

To be honest, I see this particularly in YA sci-fi. Not saying it’s true of all (not remotely!) or most. I hope it’s not even true of many. But it’s certainly true of some. Some who call themselves geeks, love sci-fi as a consumer, but don’t get the whole left-side-of-the-brain engagement going in their writing.

I’m not saying all sci-fi has to be hard sci-fi. We don’t need pages of techno-babble backing up the scientific elements of the story. But here are some (very general) scientifically minded questions I try to consider in my world-building details:

• What progression led to the present level of technology in the world? Is it ascending (advancing technology) or descending (lost knowledge due to some event in the past)?

 

• What limitations are there, preventing all tasks from being dirt simple? If technology makes some things super-simple, but others still require effort, does that distinction make sense?

• If my setting is Earth, but X years in the future, how do elements of our current world influence my story? How have elements of our present degraded over time? (Never forget entropy.)

And here’s a biggie:

• What laws of physics (as currently understood) am I going to try to break, bend, or circumvent? How can I justify it? (The justification can be highly fictional, but must be consistent within itself.)

Any other sci-fi buffs out there? Are there ways you see the “sci” in sci-fi getting glossed over too much (in YA or otherwise)? What strategies do you have for keeping your imagination within some confines of scientific consistency? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

My Flavor of Origami

If you’ve read my profile over there on the right, you might have noticed the “origami-folding” part. But when you think of origami, what do you think of?

Paper cranes? I don’t know how to make those.

Or maybe Origami Yoda? I only wish I were that cool.

So what’s up with me saying I’m origami-folding? What can I make?

That’s right! Piles of brightly colored, crinkly parallelograms!

Okay, I’m kidding. I hadn’t assembled them yet. Here’s what they really make.

It’s called a stellated icosahedron. The “stellated” means it’s pointy and star-like. The “icosahedron” means if those pointy parts were flattened down, it’d have twenty faces.

In general, this style is called modular origami. You make a bunch of identical pieces and assemble them. Very geometric.

You can imagine why I like it so much.

It’s also a great way to fill a day of math classes when the timing doesn’t work for a regular math lesson. Like the last day before Christmas break and you just did a chapter or unit test the day before, so you definitely don’t want to start a new chapter.

It also makes the students think their math teacher is pretty cool.

A Round of Applause for the Visual Arts

On Wednesday, I mentioned that it took a long time for me to discover/realize/admit I had any type of creativity inside me. Acknowledging that my writing had any artistic value took a little longer. There’s one thing, though, that remains an unchanging truth.

I can’t draw.

Add to that the fact that I can’t paint, sculpt, or do anything else under the umbrella of visual arts. My brother and sister got that talent. When we started playing DrawSomething against each other, I figured my attempts would be pitiful next to theirs. (Fortunately, phone-sized touchscreens are the great equalizer.)

It’s not one of my strengths, and I’m okay with that. I think it’s helped me appreciate those who do have talents in that area.

You know who doesn’t appreciate the talent and hard work required? Those clients featured on Clients From Hell. Seriously. As the sister of a graphic designer, I find it mind-boggling.

To counter those non-appreciators, here’s some appreciation. Once upon a time, I taught an eighth-grade girl named Lynn some math. Fast forward about a decade, and we got back in touch. She doesn’t draw professionally, just doodles for fun, but that doesn’t stop me from following her Tumblr religiously.

Have you seen the Hatchet Cat featured on Mindy McGinnis’s Saturday Slash query critiques? Yeah, Lynn drew that.

So, for Lynn, my siblings, and everyone else who can draw things that make me go ♡♥♡, I raise my glass (of root beer) to you!

Confessions of a Late Bloomer

I’ve heard it more than once. Possibly more than a hundred times. Likely from some of you reading this post. Countless writers have said some version of the following:

If you’ve said one of those things, totally cool. Nothing wrong with that. (Unless you mention any of the above in your query letter. DON’T do it!) Some people have that direction and solid idea of where they want to go in life early.

I’m not one of those people.

To be fair, I’ve always been a bookworm. But as a kid/teen, I never got enthralled by gorgeous prose or amazing imagery. I just wanted a story that could hold my interest, keep me guessing, suck me in to the very end and beyond.

To be even more fair, I’ve always known I’m pretty good with words. I could write a school essay on just about any topic without breaking a sweat. (Very handy in grad school.) When my sister needed to argue with someone on a message board, she got me to help her phrase everything just right.

That didn’t make me a writer. Writers were creative and imaginative and all those good things.

We had to take two English classes in college. Freshman English (which I managed to delay well beyond freshman year) and some type of Advanced English chosen from a list. I chose Technical Writing. Never considered taking any type of creative writing class.

I wasn’t the type.

So what am I now?

Over the past three years, I’ve slowly grown used to the idea that there is some creativity in me. That while my writing style will never be “conventionally beautiful,” there is artistic merit in it. That the strong analytical side I’ve been so comfortable with all my life can be a complement to creativity.

I think I’m old enough now to understand that while there are many types, there isn’t one correct type. My “writerliness” is just as real as that of someone who’s been spinning stories since toddlerhood.

Some people take the interstate to their goals. Others take mountainous backroads, and an unplanned detour leads to an unexpected destination. One isn’t better (or worse) than the other.

Just different.