Ralph Gardner Column: Why Not Teach Math Via Videogames?
BY RALPH GARDNER JR.
If would seem like a no-brainer: Kids love videogames, but often hate math. So why not teach them math via videogames?
I doubt, though, that math and science teacher Henry Rey would refer to the flight simulators that he uses at Frederick Douglass Academy in Harlem as videogames.
Mr. Rey advises the academy’s Red Tails Aviation Club, and his aspiring pilots and air-traffic controllers use the simulators—models specifically for schools, made and donated by Hotseat Chassis—to get from point A to point B. In the virtual air space, two afternoons a week, the students must draw on their math and science skills to reach their destinations.
Red Tails members Olanrewaju Kazeem and Joshua Rivera, right, at one of the club’s flight simulators Keith Bedford for The Wall Street Journal
“They have a yoke, correct rudders, throttle quadrants and hands-on instruments,” explained Jay LeBoff, Hotseat’s CEO, as a mix of middle- and high-schoolers performed takeoffs and landings. “They can come in here and use their skill sets to design a flight, do all the math, and see if you end up where you thought you were going to be.”
Sometimes, the students are on the money. Other times, they miss the mark.
“You’re not even close to the airport, and you’re totally lost,” Mr. Rey told a 14-year-old as a simulated landscape passed below the wings of his plane. “Start over and go to Republic Airport. I want you to take a left turn heading 060.”
If that wasn’t challenging enough, Mr. Rey had the student in the adjoining simulator fly through thick clouds. “The ceiling is at 300 feet,” he explained. “He’s cheating by looking outside. The key is to find the runway without ever having to look outside.”
The teenager had opened a new window on his computer monitor—Mr. Rey’s reference to “looking outside”—that helped him orient himself, or at least try, by seeing outdoors. He should have relied exclusively on IFR, Instrument Flight Rules, as opposed to visual flight rules.
Henry Rey—math and science teacher, club adviser and pilot—gives a student some one-on-one time. Keith Bedford for The Wall Street Journal
“That’s how people get killed,” said Mr. Rey, a pilot himself. “Even commercial pilots.”
The teacher’s hands seemed as full as those of a JFK air-traffic controller during the holiday travel rush. I certainly wouldn’t have felt completely comfortable if I was sitting in coach on the flight piloted by that 14-year-old. His body language was all wrong, even though his aircraft now seemed on course. The kid was even listening to music on his headphones.
“Can you remove those please,” Mr. Rey sighed.
Nonetheless, boredom and inattention weren’t issues in this classroom. If anything, the challenge was getting pilots to relinquish their cockpits and let others have a turn. And the kids who weren’t flying were looking over the shoulders of those who were, offering advice.
“One of the things that seems to work is kids teaching kids,” Mr. Rey said. “They learn more. They have to explain to other kids what they learned. I’ve had these kids teach teachers.”
One is 17-year-old Joshua Rivera, Mr. Rey’s star pupil. “He’s flown my private airplane by himself,” Mr. Rey boasted. There’s even a display in the school lobby celebrating Josh’s achievement. “He already passed the FAA exam for basic ground instructor.”
Josh recalled his inaugural flight on Oct. 5: “Mr. Rey suggested I verbalize every routine,” he explained. “By the day of my first solo, Mr. Rey stepped out of the plane, shook my hand, and I was able to do three landings perfectly.”
Just as impressive to Mr. Rey is Josh’s 93 grade-point average. “I’m in it,” he said, “because I can help kids who have trouble in math fall back in love with math. The trick is to trick them. Don’t let them know they’re doing math.”
The educator offered an example: If you extend your arm outside a moving car and tilt it into the wind, like the wing of a plane, your arm will rise (that’s lift) and sail backward (that’s drag.) “The faster you go the more friction,” Mr. Rey explained. “I don’t even use the word friction.”
He’d written a serious-looking equation on the blackboard to describe the phenomenon. “If I tell them that,” he said pointing at the string of x’s and y’s squared, “they’d look at me and tell me to go to hell.”
Other disciples that come into play include physics, geometry, meteorology, geography, and metalworking. Under Mr. Rey’s tutelage, the club is about to start building an aircraft, which Mr. Rey intends to fly. At the moment, the body of the plane is sitting in a vestibule, the wings to be added after it’s completed and moved outdoors.
“Beginning in March we’re going to have lab classes,” Mr. Rey said. “I have to teach them how to read engineering drawings and rivet.”
On paper, the plane is supposed to take 1,500 hours to assemble. Given learning curves, class schedules, and the challenges of teenagers’ social lives, the teacher estimates his students will require a little longer.
“Because you’re working with kids,” Mr. Rey explained, “I think it’s going to take us a year.”
Source: WSJ
http:/online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702304403804579264430316771954