Learning Math...or Not
By Tara Ross
When I was in high school, I had a math teacher who told me that I should quit asking questions in class. The reason? As he put it: "Every time you open your mouth, your ignorance comes spewing forth for all to see."
In his defense, I should note that many students in my class were quite disruptive and unruly. I do not now (and did not then) think that my teacher was attacking my gender. Hindsight tells me that he probably believed that I was being deliberately slow in order to ridicule him.
The real reason that I was asking so many questions was that I simply did not "get" calculus. But I was used to getting A's, and I had decided to try and do well in the class.
My immediate reaction to his stinging remark was to quit trying. I decided that I simply did not care about calculus, and it wasn't worth the trouble if my math teacher would not help me.
That was my immediate reaction. Several weeks later, I had a different response. Darn it, I decided, I was going to learn that material--with or without my teacher's help--even if it killed me.
I ended up with a "three" on my advanced-placement calculus test, by no means the top score of "five" but still a level high enough to place out of some college math classes. I still consider it one of my most impressive accomplishments in high school. I felt a great deal of pride at the look of astonishment on my teacher's face.
In recent weeks, an uproar has ensued over remarks delivered by Lawrence Summers, president of Harvard University, during a National Bureau of Economic Research conference on January 14.
Summers' sin is that he dared to mention the fact that maybe, just maybe, biological differences contribute to the fact that women are underrepresented in tenured positions in science and engineering at top universities and research institutions.
After citing much hard data [that bored this math-challenged female half to death], Summers concluded with a personal anecdote: "While I would prefer to believe otherwise, I guess my experience with my two and a half year old twin daughters who were not given dolls and who were given trucks, and [who] found themselves saying to each other, look, daddy truck is carrying the baby truck, tells me something."
Feminists reacted in horror. MIT biology professor Nancy Hopkins told reporters after the conference that her "heart was pounding" and her "breath was shallow." "I just couldn't breathe," she moaned.
Wendy Murphy, a former Harvard visiting scholar, also reacted somewhat fiercely on Fox News this week: "There is nothing innately defective about females," she spat at Bill O'Reilly.
Oh, give me a break.
Are Murphy and Hopkins so delicate and frail that they can't stand to hear anything even remotely upsetting? Can they not stand even to consider the notion that perhaps biological differences contribute to the low numbers of women in the fields of mathematics and science? When was the last time you heard of a man nearly fainting because some woman warned him that his gender, overall, might not be biologically predisposed to learning this or that subject with ease?
But back to my own experiences in high school. What lessons can I learn from that incident?
First, I must admit that math really was more difficult for me than other subjects. I worked harder in calculus than in any other class, but to this day I still don't really get it. Nor were my troubles limited to one grumpy calculus teacher. I still think of trigonometry and a few college math and statistics classes with an inward shudder.
Do these troubles plague me because I am not biologically predisposed to easily learn math and science? Is something in my make-up more capable of quickly excelling in reading, writing, and other verbal skills?
Well, why not?
After all, I can bear children while my husband cannot. He can generate sperm, and I cannot. Our health risks vary based upon gender, as does our ability to quickly lose weight when needed. (The latter is quite a frustrating phenomenon.) Do we really think that gender differences are necessarily isolated to these few, physical factors? Why should I get all up in arms if it turns out that each gender also has differences in the ways they learn?
Men and women are different. Feminists react in horror at such a statement, failing to grasp that "different" does not have to mean "unequal." Nor does "different" mean that one gender is necessarily relegated to a lifetime of being barefoot and pregnant, while the other gender brings home the bacon. Instead, men and women have different strengths and weaknesses that complement each other in a variety of ways. These complementary differences improve our world.
When did it become so controversial to acknowledge such an obvious fact?
I also learned a second lesson from my high school calculus class. Ultimately, the most important factor in my own success has always been my own personal determination to succeed. In high school, I chose not to wither away after hearing one unsupportive remark, nor did I back off from learning a subject that came less naturally to me than did others.
I let the challenges drive me on to greater success.
Women shouldn't wilt away at the first mention of biological differences between the genders. Instead, we should love and thrive in our uniqueness as women. We have many strengths that men do not. Moreover, we should have the personal courage to overcome obstacles in those areas which may not come as naturally to some of us.
Such an attitude is the true sign of success.
Tara Ross is a regular columnist for TAEmag.com and the author of Enlightened Democracy: The Case for the Electoral College.
