The question below is from the second 2020 Specialist exam (not online), and was flagged by commenter John Friend in the discussion here. John has spelled out the problems, but the question is bad enough to warrant its own post, and there’s arguably a little more to be said.

# Tag: integration

## PoSWW 15: Slippery Slope

The question below is from the second 2020 Specialist exam (not online), and was raised by commenter Red Five in the discussion here. This’ll probably turn into a WitCH but, really, the question is so damn stupid, it doesn’t deserve the honour.

## PoSWW 14: Offering Real Choices

The question below is from the first 2020 Specialist exam (not online), which is discussed here.

## WitCH 44: Estimated Worth

This WitCH is from Cambridge’s 2020 textbook, Mathematical Methods, Unit 1 & 2. It is the closing summary of Chapter 21A, *Estimating the area under a graph*. (It is followed by 21B, *Finding the exact area: the definite integral*.)

We’re somewhat reluctant about this one, since it’s not as bad as some other WitCHes. Indeed, it is a conscious attempt to do good; it just doesn’t succeed. It came up in a tutorial, and it was sufficiently irritating there that we felt we had no choice.

## WitCH 36: Sub Standard

This WitCH is a companion to our previous, MitPY post, and is a little different from most of our WitCHes. Typically in a WitCH the sin is unarguable, and it is only the egregiousness of the sin that is up for debate. In this case, however, there is room for disagreement, along with some blatant sinning. It comes, predictably, from Cambridge’s *Specialist Mathematics 3 & 4* (2020).

## WitCH 33: Below Average

**Pr(X > 0)**, the possible answers being

**A. 2/3 B. 3/4 C. 4/5 D. 7/9 E. 5/6**

**Update (04/07/20)**

## WitCH 28: Tone Deaf

We haven’t yet had a chance to go through the 2019 VCE exams, but this question was flagged to me independently by two colleagues: let’s call them Dr. Death and Simon the Likeable. It’s from Mathematical Methods Exam 2 (CAS). (No link yet.)

**UPDATE (05/07/20)**

And then there’s Part (e). “This question was not answered well” the examiners solemnly intone. Gee, really? Do you think your question being completely stuffed might have had something to do with it? Do you think maybe having a transformation of *x* when there’s not an *x* in sight may have been just a tad confusing? Do you think that the transformation then resulting in a function of *t* was maybe not the smartest move? Do you think writing an integral backwards was perhaps just a little too cute? Do you think possibly referring to the area of, rather than to the value of, an integral was slightly clunky? And, most importantly, do you think perhaps asking a question for which there is an infinite and impenetrable jungle of answers may have been an exercise in canyon-sized incompetence?

But, sure, those troublesome students didn’t answer your question well.

Part (e) was intended to have students find a transformation of the function *f* that effectively switches the behaviour on the intervals [0,4] and [4,6] to the intervals [2,6] and [0,2]. Ignoring the fact that the intended question was asked in an absurdly opaque manner, and ignoring the fact that no motivation for the intended question was either provided or is imaginable, the question asked was entirely different, and was ridiculous.

Writing the transformation out,

we then have

So, the function~~ ~~ *y* = *f*(*t*)*y* = *f*(*x*) can be written

Solving for *Y*, that means our transformed function *Y* = *g*(*X*) can be written

Well, this is our function *g* unless *a* = 0, in which case *g* doesn’t exist. Whatever. Back to the swill.

Using the result from Part (d), we have Part (e) asking for *a*, *b*, *c* and *d* such that

What then are the solutions to this equation? The examination report lists a couple of families and then blithely remarks “There are other solutions”. Really? Then why didn’t you list them, you clowns?

We’ll tell you why. Because the complete solution to this monster is a God Almighty multi-infinite mess. As a starting idea, pick any three of the variables, say *a* and *b* and *c*, to be whatever you want, and then try to adjust the fourth variable, *d*, to solve the equation. We’ll offer a prize for anyone who can give a complete solution.

## WitCH 19: A Powerful Solvent

The following WitCH is from VCE Mathematical Methods Exam 2, 2009. (Yeah, it’s a bit old, but the question was raised recently in a tutorial, so it’s obviously not too old.) It is a multiple choice question: The Examiners’ Report indicates that just over half of the students gave the correct answer of B. The Report also gives a brief indication of how the problem was to be approached:

Have fun.

## Update (02/09/19)

Though undeniably weird and clunky, this question clearly annoys commenters less than me. And, it’s true that I am probably more annoyed by what the question symbolises than the question itself. In any case, the discussion below, and John’s final comment/question in particular, clarified things for me somewhat. So, as a rounding off of the post, here is an extended answer to John’s question.

Underlying my concern with the exam question is the use of “solve” to describe guessing/buttoning the solution to the (transcendental) equation . John then questions whether I would similarly object to the “solving” of a quintic equation that happens to have nice roots. It is a very good question.

First of all, to strengthen John’s point, the same argument can also be made for the school “solving” of cubic and quartic equations. Yes, there are formulae for these (as the Evil Mathologer covered in his latest video), but school students never use these formulae and typically don’t know they exist. So, the existence of these formulae is irrelevant for the issue at hand.

I’m not a fan of polynomial guessing games, but I accept that such games are standard and that “solve” is used to describe such games. Underlying these games, however, are the integer/rational root theorems (which the EM has also covered), which promise that an integer/rational coefficient polynomial has only finitely many candidate roots, and that these roots are easily enumerated. (Yes, these theorems may be a less or more explicit part of the game, but they are there and they affect the game, if only semi-consciously.) By contrast, there is typically no expectation that a transcendental equation will have somehow simple solutions, nor is there typically any method of determining candidate solutions.

I find something generally unnerving about the exam question and, in particular, the Report. It exemplifies a dilution of language which is at least confusing, and I’d suggest is actively destructive. At its weakest, “solve” means “find the solutions to”, and anything is fair game. This usage, however, loses any connotation of “solve” meaning to somehow figure out the way the equation works, to determine why the solutions are what they are. This is a huge loss.

True, the investigation of equations can continue independent of the cheapening of a particular word, but the reality is that it does not. Of course, in this manner the Solve button on CAS is the nuclear bomb that wipes out all intelligent life. The end result is a double-barrelled destruction of the way students are taught to approach an equation. First, students are taught that all that matters about an equation are the solutions. They are trained to give the barest lip service to analysing an equation, to investigating if the equation can be attacked in a meaningful mathematical manner. Secondly, the students are taught that that there is no distinction between a precise solution and an approximation, a bunch of meaningless decimals spat out by a machine.

So, yes, the exam question above can be considered just another poorly constructed question. But the weird and “What the Hell” incorporation of a transcendental equation with an exact solution that students were supposedly meant to “solve” is emblematic of a an impoverishment of language and of mathematics that the CAS-infatuated VCAA has turned into an art form.

## WitCH 12: Duplicitous

The following WitCH comes from the VCE 2014 Specialist Exam 1:

The Examiners’ Report indicates that 81%, 48% and 45% of students received full marks for parts (a), (b) and (c), respectively.

## The Arc Enemy

Our previous post was on good guys making a silly, funny and inconsequential mistake. This post is not.

Question B1 of Exam 2 for 2018 Northern Hemisphere Specialist Mathematics begins innocently enough. In part (a), students are required to graph the function over its maximal domain. Then, things begin to get stupid.

In part (b), the graph of f is rotated around the y-axis, to model a vase. Students are required to find the volume of this stupid vase, by setting up the integral and then pushing the stupid buttons on their stupid calculators. So, a reasonable integration question lost in ridiculous pseudomodelling and brainless button-pushing. Whatever. Just standard VCE crap. Then, things stay stupid.

Part (c) is a related rates question. In principle a good problem, though it’s hard to imagine anyone ever requiring dh/dt when the water depth is exactly cm. Whatever. Standard VCE crap. Then, things get really, really stupid.

Part (d) of the problem has a bee climbing from the bottom of the vase to the top. Students are required to find the minimum distance the bee needs to travel.

Where to begin with this idiotic, 1-mark question. Let’s begin with the bee.

Why is it a bee? Why frame a shortest walk question in terms of a bug with wings? Sure, the question states that the bug is climbing, and the slight chance of confusion is overshadowed by other, much greater issues with the question. But still, why would one choose a flying bug to crawl up a vase? It’s not importantly stupid, but it is gratuitously, hilariously stupid.

Anyway, we’re stuck with our stupid bee climbing up our stupid vase. What distance does our stupid bee travel? Well, obviously our stupid, non-flying bee should climb as “up” as possible, without veering left or right, correct?

No and yes.

It is true that a bottom-to-top shortest path (geodesic) on a surface of revolution is a meridian. The proof of this, however, is very far from obvious; good luck explaining it to your students. But of course this is only Specialist Mathematics, so it’s not like we should expect the students to be inquisitive or critical or questioning assumptions or anything like that.

Anyway, our stupid non-flying bee climbs “up” our stupid vase. The distance our stupid bee travels is then the arc length of the graph of the original function f, and the required distance is given by the integral

The integral is ugly. More importantly, the integral is (doubly) improper and thus has no required meaning for Specialist students. Pretty damn stupid, and a stupidity we’ve seen not too long ago. It gets stupider.

Recall that this is a 1-mark question, and it is clearly expected to have the stupid calculator do the work. Great, sort of. The calculator computes integrals that the students are not required to understand but, apart from being utterly meaningless crap, everything is fine. Except, the calculators are really stupid.

Two brands of CAS calculators appear to be standard in VCE. Brand A will readily compute the integral above. Unfortunately, Brand A calculators will also compute improper integrals that don’t exist. Which is stupid. Brand B calculators, on the other hand, will not directly compute improper integrals such as the one above; instead, one first has to de-improper the integral by changing the limits to something like 0.50001 and 1.49999. Which is ugly and stupid. It also requires students to recognise the improperness in the integral, which they are supposedly not required to understand. Which is really stupid. (The lesser known Brand C appears to be less stupid with improper integrals.)

There is a stupid way around this stupidity. The arc length can also be calculated in terms of the inverse function of f, which avoid the improperness and then all is good. All is good, that is, except for the thousands of students who happen to have a Brand B calculator and who naively failed to consider that a crappy, 1-mark button-pushing question might require them to hunt for a Specialist-valid and B-compatible approach.

The idiocy of VCE exams is truly unlimited.