How Math Saves the World

When I was in third grade, I got into an argument with a student. Her name was Ashley. She was one of my good friends. She lived down the street from me, and we were in the same class. We were two of the smartest kids in the class—she was probably the smartest one. Funny enough, she went on to become a rocket scientist.

We were in a deep debate: What mattered most—knowing how to read or knowing how to do math?

She took the side of reading. I took the side of math.

We got into it during class. It escalated enough that Ms. Martine made us stay after and work it out. We had to sort through our arguments, defend our positions, and try to come to some kind of resolution. In the end, I think we agreed to disagree.

Deep down, I probably knew that reading might, in some ways, be more important than math. Her argument was simple and powerful: if you can read, you can learn anything. But my argument was this: math makes you think in a different way. It lets you see the world with a kind of clarity that's completely unique. If you don't see the world that way, then you're missing out. You're not seeing the universe as it is.

Flash forward to college: I started as a physics major because I felt like the rules of physics explain life. They're the underpinning of how our world operates, and some of our deepest beliefs can be explained and articulated most clearly through physics.

Then I changed my major to economics, because it felt like economics could explain the world in a way that used math to see it clearly.

Ultimately, I ended up studying math.

Math is the language of science. Math is the language of how the world works. Math explains our decisions. It helps us see right and wrong, more and less, true and false. It helps us make clear decisions.

Because I had changed majors and transferred schools, I had to take some math classes over the summer between my sophomore and junior year, and again between my junior and senior year, in order to accrue enough credits. Those summers, I was studying math intensely in month-long courses: differential equations, real analysis, linear algebra, advanced statistics, multivariate calculus, and more.

Those are the times when I could feel my brain changing—evolving and being used in ways I didn't feel at other times in my academic career. If I'm being honest, there are times in my professional life now when I yearn for my brain to feel that way again.

That yearning is part of what led me to the classroom. I found myself teaching sixth-grade math.

I chose sixth grade intentionally. That's the grade level where students still have time to catch up multiple years and get on grade level before high school. I taught sixth-grade math in a very rural town in New Mexico. I taught sixth-grade math in Brooklyn, New York, at one of the best schools in the country.

In those experiences, I learned a lot. I studied the practice of teaching math. I dove deeply into how students learn, how to connect with each of them, how to inspire them, and how to break content down so all of them could see how the language of math could help them see the world more clearly.

I wasn't always successful—far from it. But I did find success.

From there, I became a math department chair, an assistant principal, a graduate school instructor in mathematical practice, and then a high school principal—eventually, an award-winning high school principal. I was a math teacher for a long time, in title and in spirit. Including stints teaching calculus and algebra while also being a principal.

I attribute a lot of that journey to having my mind wired as a mathematician from a young age, and to this day.

And speaking of "to this day," when I look at the world—on social media, in real life, on television—a lot of it doesn't make sense.

More specifically, it doesn't make sense in mathematical terms.

Unpopular ideas are winning out. Popular, well-supported ideas are disregarded. People are basing entire positions on a single personal experience, not on aggregate data, trends, or studies. People are off by orders of magnitude when they talk about numbers and money. There's no shared sense of scale, no shared understanding of risk, probability, or trade-offs.

In general, there's a lack of common ways to see the world—and that's leading to division.

But like a math question, this problem can be solved.

And we will solve it.

We will solve it through hard work.

We will solve it by analyzing data.

We will solve it through collaboration.

We will solve it by using technology wisely.

We will solve it by using research-based strategies.

The urgency is real. Our kids are not learning the math skills they need, and those kids are growing into adults who cannot see the world for what it is or make clear, informed decisions.

For that reason, I am committed to math instruction, math literacy, and showing how math can save the world. Game on!