In this chapter, Edward Doolittle explains that grids—straight lines, squares, clocks, calendars, maps, and schedules—are a very common way people organize space and time. Grids feel comfortable and give us a sense of control, so they are widely used in cities, farming, schools, and mathematics. However, Doolittle argues that grids often fail to match reality, especially nature and human life.
The author shows that the grid is only effective
in small, flat areas. In the real world, the land is not flat, the Earth is
curved, the real world is complex, and time does not repeat exactly. When we
apply the grid to the real world in an unnatural way, harm can be done. Cubical
watermelons, dangerous city roads, confusion in areas where two grid systems
meet, and the measurement and division of Native American land with simple
lines on a map are just a few examples.
Doolittle contrasts grid thinking with Indigenous ways of understanding space and time,
which are more flexible and closely connected to nature. Indigenous farming
follows natural signs (like plants and insects) rather than fixed calendar
dates. Indigenous ideas of territory often follow rivers and watersheds rather than straight
boundary lines. These natural boundaries are better described by fractal geometry, which reflects how
rivers, streams, and landscapes branch and repeat at many scales.
Another aspect that this chapter introduces is
the different geometries from the traditional Euclidean Geometry:
• Riemannian geometry: This is a kind of geometry
that embraces curved space and demonstrates that no one grid is special, just
like different map projections of the Earth.
• Complexity and chaos theory is the study of
systems that change over time such as climate or education systems. These ideas
have shown that small well-timed actions may therefore have big effects which
is chaotic control.
• Knots, weaving, and string figures, drawn from
Indigenous traditions, which emphasize movement, relationships, stories, and
three-dimensional thinking rather than rigid shapes .
In the final section, Doolittle revisits the
famous Königsberg Bridges
problem. While Euler proved it impossible within abstract
mathematics, Doolittle adds an Indigenous perspective: before solving problems,
we should acknowledge place, relationships,
and gratitude—in this case, the river itself. By widening
perspective beyond abstraction, new insights become possible .
Overall, the chapter argues that moving “off the grid” helps free our thinking.
By learning from Indigenous knowledge and alternative geometries, mathematics
and education can become more connected to nature, more just, and more
meaningful.
Stop 1:
However, I also stopped at the idea that
"a few small 'bursts' at the appropriate time might accomplish more than
months of haranguing" in the context of education.
This idea made me reflect, as it runs counter
to the prevailing understanding of teaching in most educational settings. These
setups often believe that achieving more in learning comes from more
explanation, more talking, or more rules being set in place. However,
Doolittle’s concept views learning in an alternative fashion, particularly in
terms of observations being connected to the true student understanding.
This strongly connects to embodied learning,
which emphasizes that thinking is not only in the mind but also shaped by the
body, movement, gesture, and interaction with materials. As Sara mentioned in
our last class discussion, a small change made a huge difference for a student.
That change did not involve more explanation, but rather a shift in how the
student could physically engage with the task—through movement, visuals, or
hands-on interaction. This helped the student access the idea in a way that words
alone had not.
These minor
bodily changes—enabling the student to move, gesture, manipulate objects, or
change their bodily posture—could channel Doolittle’s “small bursts”: Good
teaching can be liberating if timed just so as to unlock student understanding,
reducing frustration as a bonus. As a result, this stop was helpful in my reconsideration
of what it means to be inclusive. I realized that I was conceptualizing
accommodations as more effort, as more permanence, but as more embodiment, I
see them as teaching moments, teaching moments that I can provide students in
the present, teaching moments that recognize as physical, emotional, and
cognitive. I realize now, in a sense, lessons can unfold in response to
students, not in response to some structure, not in response to some rubric,
but in response to students.
Stop 2:
I stopped at the idea that nature gives us
shapes, while straight lines are something humans impose.
This statement made me pause because it captures the core message of
Doolittle’s argument in a very simple way. In nature, nothing grows in perfect
straight lines—rivers curve, landscapes rise and fall, seasons shift, and
living systems develop unevenly. Straight lines, grids, and fixed structures
are human tools, not natural truths.
This stop made me reflect on how education
often relies on imposed “straight lines”: rigid schedules, uniform pacing,
standardized assessments, and expectations that all students should learn in
the same way and at the same speed. These structures can work for some
students, but they often fail others, particularly students with disabilities
or those who learn differently.
Doolittle’s idea helped me see that when
students struggle, the problem may not be the learner but the structure imposed
on them. Just as forcing straight roads through mountains ignores the land,
forcing all learners onto a single pathway ignores the natural diversity of how
students think and learn. Inclusion, from this perspective, means reshaping the
learning environment to follow students’ natural learning paths rather than
asking students to bend themselves to fit rigid systems.
This stop encouraged me to think of teaching
as a practice of listening, observing, and adapting, rather than controlling.
It reinforced the idea that flexible, responsive teaching is not a lack of
structure, but a more respectful and realistic way of supporting learning for
all students.
Questions:
1)
Doolittle
argues that grids provide a sense of control but often fail to represent
reality accurately.
How might this insight help us critically examine the assumptions embedded in
curriculum standards and learning outcomes, particularly in mathematics
education?
2)
How
might a flexible approach to teaching inform educators’ responses to learner
diversity and unanticipated classroom situations?
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ReplyDeleteHi Rosmy,
I completely agree with Doolittle’s argument that while grids provide a sense of control, they often fail to accurately represent the complexities of reality, particularly in the context of curriculum standards and learning outcomes in mathematics education. These standards create structured frameworks that categorize learning into fixed topics and objectives. Although this structure offers order and predictability, it often perpetuates the notion that mathematics is primarily a tool for advancing to the next academic level, rather than for addressing real-life problems. The frequent questions from students about the relevance of mathematics in their everyday lives underscore the disconnect between curriculum expectations and their actual experiences.
Informed by the article I read this week, "Sustainability Education’s Gift: Learning Patterns and Relationships" by Dilafruz Williams, I find that hands-on, context-based activities—like linking mathematics to farming or everyday work—demonstrate how learning becomes truly meaningful when it is connected to practical challenges. This highlights that rigid curriculum frameworks can oversimplify the complex realities that learners face.
Adopting a flexible approach to teaching allows educators to better respond to diverse learners and unexpected classroom dynamics. By adapting instruction to align with students’ experiences, abilities, and inquiries, teachers can move away from fixed scripts. Utilizing real-life examples and practical activities not only supports deeper understanding but also acknowledges the various ways students express their knowledge. This flexibility fosters inclusion and engagement, ultimately enriching the learning process by ensuring that education relates to real-world contexts rather than adhering strictly to predetermined structures.
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ReplyDeleteHi Rosmy,
ReplyDeleteI agree that the grid is a controlling factor within the schooling system, and while it fails to represent reality accurately, it is impossible to reject it completely due to the policies and structures put in place within the institution. That being said, in the paper I read it highlighted the importance of working beside the grid, which I think is an interesting way of explaining how we need to think critically about what we are teaching and how we are teaching it, and stretch this to meet the needs of our students while still working around the rigidity of the grid. As educators, we need to think critically and creatively to question the assumptions embedded in the curriculum, question whose knowledge is being privileged or dismissed, and come up with ways to work “beside” the grid instead.
A flexible approach allows teachers to adapt their practices to meet the needs of their students. This means welcoming multimodal approaches and allowing space for diverse ways of knowing to ensure students have the opportunities to succeed, rather than being forced to use conventional and rigid structures that may not work for them.
Great insights here, Rosmy and team! It’s hard to think beyond/ beside the grid-like structures that are so prevalent in schools and society, and you have found many important connections here.
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