Math Identity Pt 1: Defining Your Math Identity

Are you a friend or a sibling? A reader or a writer? A mathematician or a scientist? These are statements about identity, which we’ll talk about here as a label for sets of behaviors that you can reliably predict the perceptual consequences of. You aren’t a pilot if you can’t predict exactly what will happen in the cockpit from takeoff to landing.

A few examples of identity

As a friend, you have “at your fingertips” ways to make your friends laugh, frown, furrow their brows, and as a sibling, ways to make your siblings double-check their hiding place, snitch to parents, spare the remnants of your favorite restaurant’s entrée. Likewise, you have an identity as a reader, writer, scientist, mathematician, student, teacher, leader, test-taker (Yes, even test-taking is a behavior set you can prepare for and confidently expect results from, whether it’s a pop quiz or the SAT!) that all are defined by the sets of behaviors you can deploy and know what will happen next with relative certainty.

You remember things better that are associated with a strong identity. A lyric that reliably makes a friend laugh might exist in your memory forever, whereas a key point from an AP Biology lecture might be the reason you got a B+ – and that B+ probably felt frustrating if you expected more. Those emotional moments (the pride when your behaviors work, the frustration when they don’t) feed back into how strongly your identity builds. 

Take a second and write down the various identities you embody. 

Here are some of mine:

• Researcher
• Gamer
• Walker
• Son

• Fiancé
• Brother
• Thinker
• Foody

• Friend (many different types)
• Teacher
• Student
• Reader

Within my identity as a teacher is a smattering of behavior sets: I listen carefully when students speak; I model how to diagram sentences, solve equations, and use Desmos; and I ask questions that I’ve diagnosed are right at the border of student’s understanding. By reflecting on these behaviors at the time of this writing, I’m increasing the likelihood that I remember them when they are context-relevant in my sessions. 

Meanwhile, when I wake up on an unscheduled day, my conscious stream goes to the intersectional zone of these identities. Should I go on a walk and think? Should I see if my fiancé will join me for a gym run? Should I call a brother or my mom? Should I light upon a neglected dataset and poke around? 

Math identity

Let’s imagine two SAT students, Artoo and Chubaka, answering the question “Am I a mathematician?”…

Artoo tests her ability to reliably expect the outcomes of her behaviors in math contexts, and she feels uncomfortable.

“How do I make a table of x/y values with an equation?”

Meanwhile, Chubaka scans her repertoire of math experience and comes up with a richly organized set of possible behaviors.

“I generate a table for unfamiliar functions and compare with known patterns.”

Artoo has an idea of what a math test looks like, but she doesn’t have behaviors planned for the contexts she might encounter. She therefore won’t be able to reliably predict the perceptual outcomes of her behaviors while testing – whether it’s math class or the SAT –  which makes those experiences feel like traps instead of chances to show what she knows. That frustration chips away at math identity.

Chubaka, meanwhile, has sets of behaviors ready for the various contexts of math she knows she will encounter throughout her life. She considers “arithmetic” (PEMDAS) a branch of mathematics she excels at and “algebra” (solving for x) the topic she’s most recently mastered. She has favorite shapes in geometry (equilateral triangle, circle, regular polygons) and knows ways to investigate and manipulate them (bisect angles, find perpendicular segments, scaling, find area). She is signed up for calculus next year, and is excited to see what useful ways she can apply her new knowledge of limits.

What is really the difference between these two students? Is it their ability to multiply 7×9? 

I’d think not, though it is certainly a reflection of the less visible culprit: Artoo does not identify as a mathematician. She hasn’t worked out what behaviors to apply in what scenarios to predict what will happen in mathematical equations, in patterns, or with shapes. She wakes up in the morning without a thought to “x”, and if it appears suddenly in her school day, it is an intrusion. On the other hand, Chubaka actively seeks out experiences where she can flex her abilities; she feels confident about her behavioral dexterity in the realm of mathematics and actively thinks of herself as a mathematician. Chubaka is proud of being capable to do the math asked of her and has been since she memorized 7×9 in second grade, and she has fun (though would never admit it) when she takes low-stakes SAT practice; Artoo has felt frustrated in the same settings for years.

Artoo has the SAT coming up in two months and wants to go to Michigan, which wants to see a 700 from her math score. What should she do? Short answer? Start math over from scratch.

Continue reading Part 2 to see how Artoo starts over for the SAT!