It has been my drug, my meditation, my weapon and my best friend. It
fed and dressed me, led to travel, men, lavish parties and even Cuban
cigars. It has placed my name on a movie screen, put my work in
museums, and allowed me to manipulate cells deep inside the human
brain. It is called Math.
In
Russia, where I was a child in the 80’s, math was respected and
celebrated as a tool of progress and technological advance. It was
presented to school children as a toy with tricky wrapping that one had
to outwit to open. We were challenged and encouraged to tackle it.
Indeed, math has become the toy of my life, my key to the world,
leading me across continents, opening doors to exciting projects and
people, and even assisting in the realm of romance.
I was in
high school, when I applied math to my love life for the first time. I
fell in love, and barricaded in the heavy, still vacuum of my room, was
desperately counting clock ticks, waiting for “the call” from the only
person whose existence mattered. My brain was justifying the silence by
devising elaborate excuses for why he hadn’t called “yet.”
It
suddenly occurred to me that insecure, self-pitying anticipation could
be turned into a confidence-boosting calculation of the probability of
his call. What are the chances of his call, given the rumors of another
girlfriend he may have had? I played with the concept of conditional
probability in my mind. How does the likelihood of him being interested
diminish with each passing day without a call? The results did not look
promising. My attention, however, was diverted from the lost "love of
my life" to a world of quiet concentration where I was queen, which
significantly shrank his importance. Mathematically directing myself
away from loveless depression, I tuned in to the world again and
realized there would be many more love adventures to enjoy.
Immigrating
to Israel, I discovered that math, more so than my religion, connected
me to the young people in my new country. We spoke and read different
languages, we lived through different histories, had very different
worries, but we all studied math with Hindu-Arabic numerals and learned
the same rules of logic. I met my future husband in a graduate math
class. At that time we did not speak a common dialect but shared the
language of math. Life was easy.
A rainbow of hip vocations
presented themselves after I attained my math degree. The first came
with delicious benefits. I was creating a product database at a
chocolate factory. They had an “all you can eat at work” policy...
The
coolest job of all was in movie special effects. The setting was like a
dream: on the ocean side of Los Angeles, in a quiet nightclub
atmosphere, in an abandoned military hangar, lit by a web of Christmas
lights and lava lamps, surrounded by a life-size Princess Leah statue
and old Star Wars spaceships, accompanied by a pet parrot. We, computer
graphic programmers and animators, were making Hollywood history and
immortalizing characters on the big screen.
With math I have
helped move Godzilla through the cables of the Brooklyn Bridge, and
created a Monet-style animation of rap singer Puff Daddy, while
experimenting with painting-by-numbers. Inspired by a brilliant talk at
a SIGGRAPH conference, I tried to digitally erase the cat's whiskers
for the movie “Stuart Little.” An affair with another novel technology
led me to use a reflective ball to capture the direction of the sun in
a vast South Carolina field when shooting the movie “Patriot.” Some
experiments worked and some did not, but the math behind them was
thrilling, adventurous and playful.
I earned my Green Card by
meticulously planning a hi-jack attempt on Air Force One. It was
returning from a summit in Moscow and carrying Harrison Ford as
President of the United States. Our team of animators and engineers
helped all the explosions look realistic, simulated Air Force One
refueling in the air, and made everyone believe that the President had
escaped from the plane in a computer-generated pod we created for him,
which was dropped through computer-generated doors at the bottom of the
plane. I even had a chance to meet the President, I mean Harrison Ford,
at the Sony stage, along with other actors who were practicing jumping
from a plane in front of a giant air blower. We celebrated the movie
opening with an extravagant Hollywood party that included Cuban cigars.
After
9/11 I thought I could help defend my third homeland, the U.S., from
terrorism by teaching computers to recognize suspicious behaviors. I
abandoned the idea when I realized that my system would have detected
me as one of the false-positives, when after a 15 hour trans-atlantic
flight with two little kids, sleep-deprived and afraid of admitting to
smuggling an apple in my bag, I would be nervously avoiding a gaze of
security men.
Instead, I joined forces against an even
broader insidious enemy – cancer. In radio surgery, we use nifty math
algorithms to target the cancer tumor with the precision of a single
hair, radiating and killing the cancer cells while minimizing the
damage to surrounding tissue. Math also offered a horrifying thrill
when I assisted with brain surgery procedures on a death row inmate
known to have killed his cell-mate back in 2005.
Now, ensconced
in the mature days of parenthood, I am titillated by entertaining
mathematics in our daily family routines. When figuring out the meaning
of a double-negation note from school: “Please mark yes or no below if
your child will not attend school on Friday.” When convincing myself to
buy $250 winter boots because their cost-per-wear appears reasonably
small: $250 / (100 cold days x 3 years ) = less than $1 per wear. When
advising my son when to jump from the swing in order to enjoy the
longest flight into the sand. Or, when finding an optimal home location
that will minimize our family's combined commute time.
I am
trying to pass on my math infatuation in the same manner that one
passes traditions and language through generations. My 5-year old
daughter runs around playing super girl and sings, “I can be anything I
want to be.” I believe that the love of math may be the real super
power that I can share with her, that will bring magic to her life
journey.
Check out www.TheMathMom.com for more stories, tips and math resources for parents and kids. Puzzles are posted daily on the Family Puzzle Marathon of TheMathMom's site. Solve them with your family during breakfast or dinner.
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