“That’s a lot of smiles,” Keira (10) said as we waited for our Teen Burgers.
“Yeah. How many?” I asked. “A lot” wasn’t going to fly with a “real-world” number talk in front of us.
“Sixty-three and nineteen is… hold on,” Keira said. She wanted to add tens and ones: three twenties is sixty and one and two make three. She knew that the nine in nineteen would make this strategy more challenging. So she took advantage of the associative property and (wisely) punted.
After a few moments Keira offered eighty-two. She explained that sixty-three and twenty make eighty-three so sixty-three and nineteen make eighty-two.
Her sister Gwyneth (13) used a different strategy. “I took one from the twenty-one and gave it to the nineteen,” she said. “That’s four twenties–ha!–and two more.”
At Graham Fletcher’s session at the Northwest Mathematics Conference in Whistler, he shared a story of one student using this strategy after engaging in his Bright Idea task: “Numbers are just Skittles now,” she said. Similarly, Gwyneth decomposed twenty-one, taking and giving one to create two landmark or friendly numbers. To Gwyneth, numbers are just smiles.
Earlier this year, I wanted to share student work on Graham Fletcher’s Krispy Kreme three-act task with a group of intermediate teachers. When I last facilitated this task, many students thought of multiplication as repeated addition (only). Others used the standard algorithm — few successfully. At that time, analyzing student work revealed what students really understood (or didn’t). Further, the teacher and I discussed implications on practice going forward. (This prompted my last post.) But with my group of teachers I wanted to talk partial product strategies and models and these samples weren’t helpful. So Marc and I faked it and created some possible approaches:
What connections can you make between these students’ strategies?
We shared the approaches with the group and after some noticing and wondering invited them to find as many connections as they could. Some intended connections:
Students 1 & 5 thought of multiplication as repeated addition
Students 2 & 4 & 7 think place value to decompose 32 into two (or more) addends
Student 2 “splits” 32 symbolically; Student 7 partitions an open array
The partial products in Student 3’s algorithm can be seen in Student 4’s open array
Students 1 & 8 make use of the fact that four 25s make 100
Students 4 & 8 make use of halves and doubles
Teachers then discussed the placement of these approaches within a learning progression and how they might “nudge” each student.
Analyzing student work has become my favourite professional development activity. Here, what is lost in terms of authenticity is gained in terms of diversity of thinking. Still, I was excited to see this from @misskwiatkaski5‘s real students:
But more than once, the partial product strategies and models that I anticipated did not emerge. Not even close. 5 Practices-induced flop sweats. More on that in a future post. First, a progression of partial products across the grades, beginning with the basic multiplication facts:
How many do you see? How do you see them?
Some students will see four rows of seven doughnuts and know that 4 ⨉ 7 = 28. Great. For students who haven’t yet mastered the basic multiplication facts, partial products are helpful. Have students use what they know. For example, they might break apart seven as five and two and then find the sum of two familiar products: 4 ⨉ 7 = 4 ⨉ (5 + 2) = (4 ⨉ 5) + (4 ⨉ 2) = 20 + 8 = 28. Or, they might double a double: 4 ⨉ 7 = (2 ⨉ 2) ⨉ 7 = 2 ⨉ (2 ⨉ 7) = 2 ⨉ 14 = 28. They might do both. They might even break a factor into more than two addends: 4 ⨉ 7 = 4 ⨉ (3 + 3 + 1) = (4 ⨉ 3) + (4 ⨉ 3) + (4 ⨉ 1) = 12 + 12 + 4 = 28. (Admittedly not the most useful relationship to help students derive this fact.) Mastery of the basic multiplication facts aside, playing with partial products–and open arrays–reinforces the big idea that numbers can be broken apart–or decomposed–in flexible ways to make calculations easier.
This idea extends to multiplying two-digit numbers by one-digit numbers:
How many do you see? How do you see them?
Some students will understand that breaking apart by place value makes calculations easier: 5 ⨉ 12 = 5 ⨉ (10 + 2) = (5 ⨉ 10) + (5 ⨉ 2) = 50 + 10 = 60. Others might use doubles and double-doubles. Note that a factor can be broken into addends or smaller factors: 5 ⨉ 12 = 5(3 + 3 + 3 + 3) or 5 ⨉ 12 = 5(3 ⨉ 4). How students choose to express this will provide insight into their thinking.
Again, decomposing numbers in flexible ways extends to larger numbers:
How many do you see? How do you see them?
Breaking apart both factors by place value is a common approach: 25 ⨉ 32 = (20 + 5) ⨉ (30 + 2) = (20 ⨉ 30) + (20 ⨉ 2) + (5 ⨉ 30) + (5 ⨉ 2) = 600 + 40 + 150 + 10 = 800. This approach might be too common if reduced to a procedure (i.e., the box method or FOIL). Again, it’s about flexible ways. Breaking apart just one factor by place value is an efficient mental math strategy: 25 ⨉ 32 = 25 ⨉ (30 + 2) = (25 ⨉ 30) + (25 ⨉ 2) = 750 + 50 = 800. A student who inefficiently decomposes 32 as 10 + 10 + 10 + 2 could be nudged towards 32 as 30 + 2. Or, a factor of 25 might spark thinking about 25 ⨉ 4 = 100, a familiar product.
The different varieties of doughnuts illustrate some helpful ways of partitioning the arrays. But each of these slides draws attention to a specific way of seeing the array. My preference would be to show the slides where all the doughnuts are the same. (Same goes for visual patterns.) Ask students how they see them. If students do not see a helpful way of partitioning the arrays, then corresponding slides with different varieties of doughnuts could be displayed. In a number string, 52 – 40 leads students to think about adjusting 39 in 52 – 39 to make the calculation easier. Similarly, a purposely crafted string of images could lead students to see fives, doubles, or place value–all useful relationships–in an original (glazed) array.
Determine an equation of a quadratic function with vertex at (-5, 3), passing through the point (-7, 15).
Lately I’ve been looking for activities that address this sort of naked math yet engage learners in processes similar to those in a mathematical modelling cycle.
Consider the exercise above. What questions could you ask? If I were to ask a student about their equation, I’m likely to hear play-by-play, not colour commentary: “… and then I plugged -7 and 15 in y = a(x + 5)² + 3. Negative seven plus five is two…”
Instead, I could have students try to figure out a quadratic function that satisfies a set of criteria, gradually revealed to them as “clues.” Throughout, students would check their quadratic functions and make changes when necessary. This is the gist of Wanted Parabola, my adaptation of Cathy Marks Krpan’s Wanted Number:
I started with a very general clue: the direction of opening. I anticipated a variety of parabolas, which I got when I tried this activity out with math teachers in my district. When I tried this activity out in the MathTwitterBlogoSphere (#MTBoS), I got a bunch of y = x²s. The biggest difference was that my colleagues were invited to draw a parabola (on whiteboards) whereas my tweeps were asked to write an equation (in a Desmos activity). It’s interesting to think about this activity in terms of freedom and constraints. When I revealed the next clue, it pushed my colleagues’ thinking together. However, from my tweeps, it triggered new and diverse ideas, simulated here:
I like this as a blank-page (or whiteboard) activity but a Desmos activity (1, 2, 3) does provide the opportunity to talk about some interesting overlays. If using vertical non-permanent surfaces (#VNPS), I’d stop partway through to hold a “board meeting” where students would share possible parabolas.
In general, I progressed from providing more general to more specific clues. For example, “vertex in QII” divulges p < 0 before “axis of symmetry x = -5″ gives away p = -5. Most clues add new information and move students closer to the Wanted Parabola. Some confirm earlier decisions. For example, “vertex (-5, 3)” before “axis of symmetry x = -5″ and “minimum value of 3.” This last clue is anticlimactic. An earlier clue, “never enters QIII,” is much more interesting. It might feel like new information. But it must be true given preceding clues; a parabola that opens up and has no x-intercepts cannot contain points in QIII (or QIV).
You can play with the order of the clues. A second Wanted Parabola:
Here, the direction of opening clue is revealed midway through the set. It doesn’t add new information but is reasoned to through “two x-intercepts” and “vertex in QI.” I meant to delay students determining the direction of opening a bit, hoping to surprise them after a few clues. In a third Wanted Parabola, “passes through” is the first clue; I anticipate that some students will place the vertex at this point.
Instead of “How did you find a?” you could ask “Which clues were helpful? Which clues were necessary?” In my mind, helpful ≠ necessary. A clue might be helpful if it pushes students in the direction of the Wanted Parabola despite not providing the values of a, p, or q. Or a clue might be helpful if it tells students that they’re on the right track. In the way that the first Wanted Parabola plays out, three pieces of information are necessary (to determine three unknowns): “minimum value of 3,” “axis of symmetry x = -5,” and “passes through (-7, 15).” If some students don’t argue that only two clues are necessary — “vertex (-5, 3)” and “passes through (-7, 15)” — you could ask “What is the fewest number of clues you need?”
This activity helps students develop an understanding of the different attributes parabolas can have. It provides an opportunity for students to solve problems, reason, explain, justify, and connect mathematical ideas in ways that “Determine an equation…” does not.
In June, a colleague invited me into his classroom to teach a Desmos modelling task — Predicting Movie Ticket Prices — in his Math 12 class. Students experienced exponential functions earlier in the course. We were curious about whether his students would apply what they knew about exponential functions to a task situated outside of an exponential functions unit — a task not having to do with textbook contexts of half-life, bacteria, or compound interest. They did. And they deepened their understanding of how change by a common ratio appears in exponential equations (vs. change by a common difference in linear equations). They did this within 45 minutes of a 75-minute class. So my colleague let me try out another, less sexy, task — one adapted from MARS. This task, like much of Math 12, is about naked functions; no real-world context here. Nat Banting’s closing keynote at #NWmath reminded me of it. Watch Nat’s talk; view his slides.
The original MARS task above is closed: two functions, one linear and one quadratic, each passing through four points. I wanted to open it up so I changed the prompt: “A set of functions pass through the points shown. What could the equations for the functions be?” Also, I removed one of the points — (5, 3) — to allow for different solutions of two functions. The thinking is that open questions encourage a variety of approaches. And then, from fifteen pairs of students:
I anticipated this. The points scream linear and quadratic. They are sources of coherence. I had lowered the floor but no Rileys entered y = 5, y = 7, y = 8, y = 9. The problem wasn’t problematic. I had raised the ceiling but no one wrestled with equations for sinusoidal or polynomial or radical or rational functions. The freedom within my open question didn’t bring about new and diverse ideas. To support creativity — mathematical creativity! — I had to introduce a source of disruption, a constraint: “A set of nonlinear functions pass through the points shown. What could the equations for the functions be?”
A student could have used the linear nature of absolute value functions to get around my nonlinear constraint — a bit of a Riley move? — but no one did.
Instead, some students picked up on the symmetry of two new possible parabolas:
Writing the equation of the second parabola — finding the parameters a and q — presented more of a problem.
Others bent the line; they saw the middle of its three points as the vertex of a cubic function that had been vertically stretched and reflected:
Some saw four compass points and wrote an equation of a circle. This led to a function vs. not a function conversation: “Does that count?” Others saw a sine function that passed through three of these four points. There were “close enough” solutions — great for Coin Capture but not quite passing through the given points:
I didn’t anticipate this. Students weren’t as constrained by “pass through” as I was. Also, they were motivated to capture the points using only two functions, as before.
With more time, I could have shifted constraints again: “A set of functions pass through the points shown. What could the equations for the functions be? (P.S. The graph of at least one of them has an asymptote.)” This would have triggered exponential and logarithmic or rational functions. (Even without introducing this constraint, we noticed at least one student playing with rational functions at the end of class.)
Above, there’s evidence to support Nat’s #NWmath conjecture: “Shifting constraints triggered new mathematical possibilities.” My (more) open question didn’t cut it. The student thinking — and conversations — that I had hoped for only emerged when freedom “sloshed against” constraints.