“Math is like crack to you, isn’t it?”
One of my students in an Algebra class I taught said this to me. I took it as a compliment, though I’m not sure it was meant that way. It’s true, math excites and energizes me. It brings me pleasure, almost as much as it frustrates and confuses me. I’m well aware, though, that not everyone shares my excitement. If math were not a graduation requirement, our math classrooms would be nearly empty, populated only by the few math addicts, like myself.
The question I hear most often from my students is, “how am I going to use this in real life?” It’s a valid question. No one likes to suffer without reason. But I find myself reflecting that people don’t ask this of their music classes, their art classes, or even their literature classes. These studies are usually appreciated on their own merit, for the beauty, color, and depth that they add to life.
Albert Einstein said, “Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas.” Mathematics can stretch us in ways that nothing else can. It tests the limits of possibility of our minds and the universe around us, and then takes us beyond those limits.
When I read the news, listen to political commentaries, and take part in the debates over current issues, I realize that we could do with a bit more poetry of logical ideas. Too often when it comes to the important things of life, logic and clear critical thinking get left in the dust and we find ourselves in confused and ugly messes.
Not that mathematics makes sense of everything. The same genius I quoted before also said, “Mathematics are well and good, but nature keeps dragging us around by the nose.” Just when we think we have everything figured out, a black hole opens up and nothing makes sense anymore. That is the world of nature, and so that is the world of mathematics. It not only orders and classifies, but it is full of mysteries, such as why does that number pi keep showing up all the time? And how can two imaginaries come together to form something real? If I told my daughter that two unicorns can create a horse, she’d never believe me. Sometimes, math is a wonderful, powerful mystery.
The poetry, the logic, the mystery, the discovery- these are why math is addictive for me. And it’s why, in an institution of higher education, we require our students to at least try a taste, in hopes that they will go out into the world and infect it with a little more reason, a little more beauty, and a little more poetry.
