Prechunking

The emerging theory of how the brain works gives us a new language to us for discussing how we teach, learn and communicate math.

Modules

Our minds have many functionalities.  They are implemented by what I called modules in Math and modules of the mind because I don’t understand very much about what cognitive scientists have learned about how these functionalities are carried out.  They talk about a particular neuron, a collection of neurons, electrical charges flowing back and forth, and so on, and it appears there is no complete agreement about these ideas.

The functions the modules implement are physical structures or activities in the brain.  At a certain level of abstraction we can ignore the mechanism.

Most modules carry out functionalities that are hidden from our consciousness.

• When we walk, the walking is carried out by a module that operates without our paying (much) attention to it.
• When we recognize someone, the identity of the person pops into our consciousness without us knowing how it got there.  Indeed, we cannot introspect to see how the process was carried out; it is completely hidden.

Reasoning, for example if you add 56 and 49 in your head, has part of the process visible to your introspection, but not all of it.  It uses modules such as the sum of 9 and 6 which feel like random access memory.  When you carry the addition out, you (or at least I) are conscious of the carry: you are aware of it and aware of adding it to 9 to get 10.

Good places to find detailed discussion of this hiddenness are references [2] and [4] below.

Chunking

Math ed people have talked for years about the technique of chunking in doing math.

• You see an algebraic expression, you worry about how it might be undefined, you gray out all of it except the denominator and inspect that, and so on.  (This should be the subject of a Mathematica demo.)
• You look at a diagram in the category of topological spaces.  Each object in the diagram stands for a whole, even uncountably infinite, space with lots of open and closed subsets and so on, but you think of it just as a little pinpoint in the diagram to discover facts about its relationship with other spaces.  You don’t look inside the space unless you have to to verify something.

Students have a hard time doing that.  When an experienced mathematician does this, they are very likely to chunk subconsciously; they don’t think, “Now I am chunking”.  Nevertheless, you can call it to their attention and they will be aware of the process.

There are modules that perform chunking whose operation you cannot be aware of even if you think about it.  Here are two examples.

Example 1. Consider these two sentences from [2], p. 137:

• “I splashed next to the bank.”
• “There was a run on the bank.”

When you read the first one you visualize a river bank.  When you read the second one you visualize a bank as an institution that handles money.  If these two sentences were separated by a couple of paragraphs, or even a few words, in a text you are likely not to notice that you have processed the same word in two different ways.  (When they are together as above it is kind of blatant.)

The point is the when you read each sentence your brain directly presents you with the proper image in each case (different ones as appropriate).  You cannot recover the process that did that (by introspection, anyway).

Example 2. I discussed the sentence below in the Handbook.  The sentence appears in references [3].

…Richard Darst and Gerald Taylor investigated the
differentiability of functions $latex f^p$ (which for our
purposes we will restrict to $latex (0,1)$) defined for
each $latex p\geq1$ by

In this sentence, the identical syntax $latex (a,b)$ appears twice; the first occurrence refers to the open interval from 0 to 1 and the second refers to the GCD of integers m and n.  When I first inserted it into the Handbook’s citation list, I did not notice that (I was using it for another phenomenon, although now I have forgotten what it was).  Later I noticed it.  My mind preprocessed the two occurrences of the syntax and threw up two different meanings without my noticing it.

Of course, “restricting to (0, 1)” doesn’t make sense if (0, 1) means the GCD of 0 and 1, and saying “(m, n) = 1doesn’t make sense if (m, n) is an interval.  This preprocessing no doubted came to its two different conclusions based on such clues, but I claim that this preprocessing operated at a much deeper level of the brain than the preprocessing that results in your thinking (for example) of a topological space as a single unstructured object in a category.

This phenomenon could be called prechunking.  It is clearly a different phenomenon that zooming in on a denominator and then zooming out on the whole expression as I described in [1].

This century’s metaphor

In the nineteenth century we came up with a machine metaphor for how we think.  In the twentieth century the big metaphor was our brain is a computer.  This century’s metaphor is that of a bunch a processes in our brain and in our body all working simultaneously, mostly out of our awareness, to enable us to live our life, learn things, and just as important (as Davidson [4] points out) to unlearn things.  But don’t think we have Finally Discovered The Last Metaphor.

References

1. Zooming and chunking in abstractmath.org.
2. Mark Changizi, The vision revolution.  Benbella Books, 2009.
3. Mark Frantz, “Two functions whose powers make fractals”.  American Mathematical Monthly, v 105, pp 609–617 (1998).
4. Cathy N. Davidson, Now you see it.  Viking Penguin, 2011.  Chapters 1 and 2.
5. Math and modules of the mind (previous post).
6. Cognitive science in Wikipedia.
7. Charles Wells, The handbook of mathematical discourse, Infinity Publishing Company, 2003.

Unless

Mark Meckes recently wrote (private communication):

I’m teaching a fairly new transition course at Case this term, which involves explicitly teaching students the basics of mathematical English along with the obvious things like logic and proof techniques.  I had a student recently ask about how to interpret “A unless B”.  After a fairly lively discussion in class today, we couldn’t agree on the truth table for this statement, and concluded in the end that “unless” is best avoided in mathematical writing.  I checked the Handbook of Mathematical Discourse to see if you had anything to say about it there, but there isn’t an entry for it.  So, are you aware of a standard interpretation of “unless” in mathematical English?

I did not consider  “unless” while writing HMD.   What should be done to approach a subject like this is to

• think up examples  (preferably in a bull session with other mathematicians) and try to understand what they mean logically, then
• do an extensive research of the mathematical literature to see if you can find examples that do and do not correspond  with your tentative understanding.  (Usually you find other uses besides the one you thought of, and sometimes you will discover that what you came up with is completely wrong.)

What follows is an example of this process.

I can think of three possible meanings for “P unless Q”:

1.  “P if and only if not Q”,
2.  “not Q implies P”
3.  “not P implies Q”.

An example that satisfies (1) is “$latex x^2-x$ is positive unless $latex 0 \leq x \leq 1$”.  I have said that specific thing to my classes — calculus students tend not to remember that the parabola is below the line $latex y=x$ on that interval. (And that’s the way you should show them — draw a picture, don’t merely lecture.  Indeed, make them draw a picture.)

An example of (2) that is not an example of (1) is “$latex x^2-x$ is positive unless $latex x = 1/2$”.  I don’t think anyone would say that, but they might say “$latex x^2-x$ is positive unless, for example, $latex x = 1/2$”.  I would say that is a correct statement in mathematical English.  I guess the phrase “for example” translates into telling you that this is a statement of form “Q implies not P”, where Q is now “x = 1/2″.   Using the contrapositive, that is equivalent to “P implies not Q”, but that is neither (2) nor (3).

An example of (3) that is not an example of (1) is “$latex x^2-x$ is positive unless $latex -1 < x < 1$”.  I think that any who said that (among math people) would be told that they are wrong, because for example $latex (\frac{-1}{2})^2-\frac{-1}{2} = \frac{3}{4}$.  That reaction amounts to saying that (3) is not a correct interpretation of “P unless Q”.

Because of examples like these, my conjecture is that “P unless Q” means “P if and only if not Q”.  But to settle this point requires searching for “unless” in the math literature and seeing if you can find instances where “P unless Q” is not equivalent to “P if and only if not Q”.  (You could also see what happens with searching for “unless” and “example” close together.)

Having a discussion such as the above where you think up examples can give you a clue, but you really need to search the literature.  What I did with the Handbook is to search JStor, available online at Case.  I have to say I had definite opinions about several usages that were overturned during the literature search. (What “brackets” means is an example.)

My proxy server at Case isn’t working right now but when I get it repaired I will look into this question.

Introduction

In a recent post I began a discussion of the mental, physical and mathematical representations of a mathematical object. The discussion continues here. Mathematicians, linguists, cognitive scientists and math educators have investigate some aspects of this topic, but there are many subtle connections between the different ideas which need to be studied.

I don’t have any overall theoretical grasp of these relationships. What I will do here is grope for an overall theory by mentioning a whole bunch of fine points. Some of these have been discussed in the literature and some (as far as I know) have not been discussed.  Many of them (I hope)  can be described as “an obvious fact about representations but no one has pointed it out before”.  Such fine points could be valuable; I think some scholars who have written about mathematical discourse and math in the classroom are not aware of many of these facts.

I am hoping that by thrashing around like this here (for graphs of functions) and for other concepts (set, function, triangle, number …) some theoretical understanding may emerge of what it means to understand math, do math, and talk about math.

The graph of a function

Let’s look at the graph of the function $latex {y=x^3-x}&fg=000000$.

What you are looking at is a physical representation of the graph of the function. The graph creates in your brain a mental representation of the graph of the function. These are subtly related to each other and to the mathematical definition of the graph.

Fine points

1. The mathematical definition [2] of the graph of this function is: The set of ordered pairs of numbers $latex {(x,x^3-x)}&fg=000000$ for all real numbers $latex {x}&fg=000000$.
2. In the physical representation, each point $latex {(x,x^3-x)}&fg=000000$ is shown in a location determined by the conventional $latex {x-y}&fg=000000$ coordinate system, which uses a straight-line representation of the real numbers with labels and ticks.
• The physical representation makes use of the fact that the function is continuous. It shows the graph as a curving line rather than a bunch of points.
• The physical representation you are looking at is not the physical representation I am looking at. They are on different computer screens or pieces of paper. We both expect that the representations are very similar, in some sense physically isomorphic.
• “Location” on the physical representation is a physical idea. The mathematical location on the mathematical graph is essentially the concept of the physical location refined as the accuracy goes to infinity. (This last statement is a metaphor attached to a genuine mathematical construction, for example Cauchy sequences.)
3. The mathematical definition of “graph” and the physical representation are related by a metaphor. (See Note 1.)
• The physical curve in blue in the picture corresponds via the metaphor to the graph in the mathematical sense: in this way, each location on the physical curve corresponds to an ordered pair of the form $latex {(x,x^3-x)}&fg=000000$.
• The correspondence between the locations and the pairs is imperfect. You can’t measure with infinite accuracy.
• The set of ordered pairs $latex {(x,x^3-x)}&fg=000000$ form a parametrized curve in the mathematical sense. This curve has zero thickness. The curve in the physical representation has positive thickness.
• Not all the points in the mathematical graph actually occur on the physical curve: The physical curve doesn’t show the left and right infinite tails.
• The physical curve is drawn to show some salient characteristics of the curve, such as its extrema and inflection points. This is expected by convention in mathematical writing. If the graph had left out a maximum, for example, the author would be constrained (by convention!) to say so.
• An experienced mathematician or advanced student understands the fine points just listed. A newbie may not, and may draw false conclusions about the function from the graph. (Note 2.)
4. If you are a mathematician or at least a math student, seeing the physical graph shown above produces a mental image(see Note 3.) of the graph in your mind.
5. The mathematical definition and the mental image are connected by a metaphor. This is not the same metaphor as the one that connects the physical representation and the mathematical definition.
• The curve I visualize in my mental representation has an S shape and so does the physical representation. Or does it? Isn’t the S-ness of the shape a fact I construct mentally (without consciously intending to do so!)?
• Does the curve in the mental rep have thickness? I am not sure this is a meaningful question. However, if you are a sufficiently sophisticated mathematician, your mental image is annotated with the fact that the curve has zero thickness. (See Note 4.)
• The curve in your mental image of the curve may very well be blue (just because you just looked at my picture) but you must have an annotation to the effect that that is irrelevant! That is the essence of metaphor: Some things are identified with each other and others are emphatically not identified.
• The coordinate axes do exist in the physical representation and they don’t exist in the mathematical definition of the graph. Of course they are implied by the definition by the properties of the projection functions from a product. But what about your mental image of the graph? My own image does not show the axes, but I do “know” what the coordinates of some of the points are (for example, $latex {(-1,0)}&fg=000000$) and I “see” some points (the local maximum and the local minimum) whose coordinates I can figure out.

Notes

1. This is metaphor in the sense lately used by cognitive scientists, for example in [6]. A metaphor can be described roughly as two mental images in which certain parts of one are identified with certain parts of another, in other words a pushout. The rhetorical use of the word “metaphor” requires it to be a figure of speech expressed in a certain way (the identification is direct rather than expressed by “is like” or some such thing.)  In my use in this article a metaphor is something that occurs in your brain.  The form it takes in speech or writing is not relevant.

2. I have noticed, for example, that some students don’t really understand that the left and right tails go off to infinity horizontally as well as vertically.   In fact, the picture above could mislead someone into thinking the curve has vertical asymptotes: The right tail looks like it goes straight up.  How could it get to x equals a billion if it goes straight up?

3. The “mental image” is of course a physical structure in your brain.  So mental representations are physical representations.

4. I presume this “annotation” is some kind of physical connection between neurons or something.  It is clear that a “mental image” is some sort of physical construction or event in the brain, but from what little I know about cognitive science, the scientists themselves are still arguing about the form of the construction.  I would appreciate more information on this. (If the physical representation of mental images is indeed still controversial, this says nothing bad about cognitive science, which is very new.)

References

[1] Mental Representations in Math (previous post).

[2] Definitions (in abstractmath).

[3] Lakoff, G. and R. E. Núñez (2000), Where Mathematics Comes From. Basic Books.

Mental, Physical and Mathematical Representations

For a given mathematical object, a mathematician may have:

• A mental representation of the object. This can be a metaphor, a mental image, or a kinesthetic understanding of the object.
• A physical representation of the object. This may be a (physical) picture or drawing or three-dimensional model of the object.
• A mathematical definition and one or more mathematical representations for the object. Such a representation is itself a mathematical object.

The boldface things in this list are related to each other in lots of ways, and they are fuzzy and overlap and don’t include every phenomenon connected with a math object.

I have written about these things ([1], [2], [3], [4]). So have lots of other people. In this post I summarize these ideas. I expect to write about particular examples later on and will use this as a reference.

Two Examples

The following examples point out a few of the relationships between the ideas in boldface above. There is much more to understand.

Function as black box

The idea that a function is a black box or machine with input and output is a metaphor for a function.

A is a metaphor for B means that A and B are cognitively pasted together in such a way that the behavior of A is in many ways like the behavior of B. Such a thing is both useful and dangerous, dangerous because there will be ways in which A behaves that suggest inappropriate ideas about B.

The function as machine is a good metaphor: for example functional composition involves connecting the output of one machine to the input of another, and the inverse function is like running the machine backward.

The function as machine is a bad metaphor: For example, it is wrong to think you could build a machine to calculate any given function exactly. But you can still imagine such a machine, given by a specification (it outputs the value of the function at a given input) and then, in your imagination, connecting the input of one to the output of another must perforce calculate the composite of the corresponding functions.

Like any metaphor, this is a mental representation. That means the metaphor has a physical instantiation in your brain. So a metaphor has a physical representation.

Different people won’t have quite the same concept of a particular metaphor. So a metaphor will have lots of slightly different physical representations, but mathematicians form a community, and communication between mathematicians fine-tunes the different physical instantiations so that they correspond more closely to each other. This is the sense in which mathematical objects have a shared existence in a community as Reuben Hersh has suggested.

A function is a mathematical object, which can be rigorously specified as a set of ordered pairs together with a domain and a codomain. There is a cognitive relationship between the concepts of function as math object and function as black box with input and output.

Triangle

A triangle can be drawn, or created on a computer and a physical image printed out. You may also have a mental image of the triangle.

The physical and the mental images are not the same thing, but they are definitely related. The relationship is mediated by the neuronal circuitry behind your retinas, which performs a highly sophisticated transformation of the pixels on your retina into an organized physical structure in your brain, connected to various other neurons.

This circuitry exists because it helps us get a useful understanding of the world through our eyes. So a picture of a triangle takes advantage of pre-existing neuron structure to generate a useful mental representation that helps us understand and prove things about triangles.

This mental representation also lives in a community of mathematician. Like any community, it has subgroups with “dialects” — varying understanding of representation.

For example, a mathematician who looks at the triangle below sees a triangle that looks like a right triangle. A student sees a triangle that is a right triangle.

This is “sees” in the sense of what their brain reports after all that processing. The mathematician’s brain connects the “triangle I am seeing” module (in their brain) to the “looks like a right triangle” module, but does not connect it to the “is a right triangle” module because they don’t see any statement in the surrounding text that it is a right triangle. The student, on the other hand, fallaciously makes the connection to “is a right triangle” directly.

In some sense, a student who does not make that connection directly is already a mathematician.

A triangle also exists as a mathematical object in your and my brain. It is described by a formal mathematical definition. The pictures of triangles you see above do not fit this definition. For one thing, the line segments in the pictures have thickness. But the pictures trigger a reaction in your neurons that causes your brain to cognitively paste together the line segments in the drawing to the segments required by the formal definition. This is a kind of metaphor of concrete-to-abstract that connects drawings to math objects that mathematicians use all the time.

Note that this “concrete-to-abstract metaphor” itself has a physical existence in your brain.  It drops, for example, the property of thickness that the line segments in the drawing have when matching them (in the metaphor) with the line segments in the corresponding abstract triangle.  On the other hand, it preserves the sense the all three angles in the triangle are acute.  The abstract mathematical concept of triangle (the generic triangle) has no requirement on the angles except that they add up to pi.

Summary

The discussions above describe a few of the complex and subtle relationships that exist between

• Mental representations of math objects
• Physical representations of math objects
• Formally defined math objects and their formally defined representations.

I have purported to discuss how mathematics is understood (especially in connection with language) in several articles and a book but only a few of the relationships I just described are mentioned in any of those articles. Perhaps one or two things I said caused you to react: “Actually, that’s obviously true but I never thought of it before”. (Much the way I had mathematicians in the ’60′s tell me, “I see what you mean that addition is a function of two variables, but I never thought of it that way before”.) (I was a brash category theorist wannabe then.)

A lot of research has been done on understanding math, and some research has been done on mathematical discourse. But what has been done has merely exposed the fin of the shark.

References

[1] Images and metaphors (in abstractmath).

[2] Representations and Models (in abstractmath).

[3] Mathematical Concepts (previous blog).

[4] Mental Representations in Math (previous blog).