# Tag Archives: Abstract algebra

## Five positive student outcomes from the textbook-free algebra class

We’ve got just 4-5 weeks left in the semester and until the textbook-free Modern Algebra course will draw to a close. It’s been a very interesting semester doing the course this way, with no textbook and a primarily student-driven class structure. In many ways it’s been your basic Moore Method math course, but with some minor alterations and usage of technology that Prof. Moore probably never envisioned.

As I mentioned in this lengthy post on the design of the course, students are doing a lot of the work in our class meetings. We have course notes, and students work to complete “course note tasks” outside of class and then present them in class for dissection and discussion. The tasks are either answering questions posed in the notes (2 points), working out exercises which can be either short proofs or illustrative computations (4 points), or proving theorems (8 points). We have a system for choosing who presents what at the board — I won’t get into the details here, but I can do so if somebody asks for it in the comments.

So the class meetings consist almost entirely of students presenting work at the board, where their responsibility is to make their work clear, correct, complete, and coherent — and ruggedized against the questions that I inevitably throw at them.

I was thinking yesterday that this method of doing class has really done a lot of good for the students in the class, in several key ways.

• Students ultimately rely upon the soundness of their own work. The students can work with others or with print or electronic resources — although with no textbook, they have to learn how to find those resources and tell the good ones from the bad ones, which is a great skill by itself. But it boils down to presenting that work, on your own and with nobody there to bail you out, in front of your professor and peers. I think this is a good antidote to the occasional over-reliance on cooperative learning that we (in education as a whole, and in my department) have. Group work is all well and good, but to be a complete learner you have to be able to rely on your wits and your skills and not just prop yourself up on the strength of peers.
• Students prepare for class in advance, several days in advance, every night. To do reasonably well on course note tasks, students need to plan on successfully completing 15-20 course note tasks throughout the semester, which comes out to about 1-2 per week. Combine that with the fact there are 8 students in the class all trying to do this, and it’s easy to see that working ahead is really essential. You want to get so far out in front of the class that you have no competition for a particular range of problems. Very often in college, there is no sense that you have to get ready for class the next day — unless there’s an assignment due — and we profs reinforce this by running classes that do not penalize the lack of preparation. (It’s not enough to reward the presence of preparation.) The course design here, though, rewards the students who have read and practiced ahead and learned on their own.
• Students become skeptical and tough-minded about their own work. It’s quite common in traditional math courses for students completing an assignment to simply barf up something on a piece of paper, hand it in, and see how many points it gets. When you are presenting work before a class, that route leads only to embarrassment. When most of the class time is spent doing these presentations, students learn something I didn’t learn until graduate school — that if you are going to hand something in or present something with your name attached to it, you had better make very sure that it works. I’ve noticed the students anticipating not only the fact that I will be asking them penetrating questions about what they are presenting, but also what those questions are. At that point they are learning to think like mathematicians.
• Students pay (more) attention to detail, especially terminology and the sensibility of a proof. It’s easy to write a proof or a solution to a problem that has no coherence or sense to it at all — but that incoherence and senselessness vanishes the moment you do something as simple as reading the solution aloud. Which is what these folks are doing every day. Example: A colleague told me a story of a student who was asked whether or not two groups G and G’ were isomorphic. The student answered, “G is isomorphic, but G’ isn’t.”
• Students base their confidence on the math itself, not on an external authority. Students aren’t allowed to ask me “Is this right?” or “Am I on the right track?” To clarify, they can ask me those questions, but I will only greet them with more questions — mainly, “What justifies this step?” or “How do you know this?” It’s not about me or what I like or what makes me happy with regards to their work — it’s about whether each step of the proof follows logically from the one before it, and whether that logical connection is clearly validated. Students know pretty well now when they have got something right and when they don’t, and if they don’t have it right they have a better sense of what’s missing or incorrect and what they need to do to fix it.

A lot of these effects I’m describing are just embodiments of what it takes to be successful in math after calculus in the first place.

## Fear, courage, and place in problem solving

Sorry for the slowdown in posting. It’s been tremendously busy here lately with hosting our annual high school math competition this past weekend and then digging out from midterms.

Today in Modern Algebra, we continued working on proving a theorem that says that if $a$ is a group element and the order of $a$ is $n$, then $a^i = a^j$ if and only if $i \equiv j \ \mathrm{mod} \ n$. In fact, this was the third day we’d spent on this theorem. So far, we had written down the hypothesis and several equivalent forms of the conclusion and I had asked the students what they should do next. Silence. More silence. Finally, I told them to pair off, and please exit the room. Find a quiet spot somewhere else in the building and tell me where you’ll be. Work on the proof for ten minutes and then come back.

As I wandered around from pair to pair I was very surprised to find animated conversations taking place about the proof. It wasn’t because of the time constraint — they’d been at this for three days now. For whatever reason, they were suddenly into it. One pair was practically arguing with each other over the right approach to take. By the end of the 10 minutes, two of the groups had come up with novel and mathematically watertight arguments. Between the two, and with a little bit of patching and a lemma that needs to be proven still, they generated the proof.

One student made the remark that she had been thinking of these ideas all along, but she didn’t feel like it was OK to say anything. This is a very verbal, conversational class done in Moore method style, so I can only interpret that comment to mean that she didn’t feel free enough, or bold enough, to say what she was thinking. The right proof was just bottled up in her mind all this time.

There’s something about our physical surroundings which figures in significantly to our effectiveness as problem solvers. Getting out of the classroom, for this one student at least, was tantamount to giving her permission to have the correct thoughts she was already having and to express them in a proof. I think our problem solving skills are highly inhibited by fear — fear that we will be wrong. And it takes a tremendous amount of confidence and/or courage as a problem solver to overcome that fear.

When you feel that fear in a classroom, it becomes compounded by the dread of looking like an idiot. Changing the surroundings — making things a little less cozy, a little more unusual and uncertain — doesn’t seem to make the fear go away as much as it helps us feel like that fear is perfectly normal and manageable, if not less fearful.

## Textbook-free Modern Algebra update

It’s been a while since I last said anything about the textbook-free Modern Algebra class experiment. This is mainly because the class itself is now underway, five weeks into the semester, and it’s only now that I’ve got enough perspective to give a reasonable first look at how it’s going. So, let me give an update. (Click to get the whole, somewhat lengthy article.) Continue reading