A timely first day of class example for Fall 2016: Trump Tweets

On the first day of an intro stats or intro data science course I enjoy giving some accessible real data examples, instead of spending the whole time going over the syllabus (which is necessary in my opinion, but somewhat boring nonetheless).

silver-feature-most-common-women-names3One of my favorite examples is How to Tell Someone’s Age When All You Know Is Her Name from FiveThirtyEight. As an added bonus, you can use this example to get to know some students’ names. I usually go through a few of the visualizations in this article, asking students to raise their hands if their name appears in the visualization. Sometimes I also supplement this with the Baby Name Voyager, it’s fun to have students offer up their names so we can take a look at how their popularity has changed over the years.

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Another example I like is the Locals and Tourists Flickr Photos. If I remember correctly I saw this example first in Mark Hanson‘s class in grad school. These maps use data from geotags on Flickr: blue pictures are taken by locals, red pictures are by tourists, and yellow pictures might be by either. This one of Manhattan is one most students will recognize, and since many people know where Times Square and Central Park are, both of which have an abundance of red – tourist – pictures. And if your students watch enough Law & Order they might also know where Rikers Island is they might recognize that, unsurprisingly, no pictures are posted from that location.

makeHowever if I were teaching a class this coming Fall, I would add the following analysis of Donald Trump’s tweets to my list of examples. If you have not yet seen this analysis by David Robinson, I recommend you stop what you’re doing now and go read it. It’s linked below:

Text analysis of Trump’s tweets confirms he writes only the (angrier) Android half

I’m not going to re-iterate the post here, but the gist of it is that the @realDonaldTrump account tweets from two different phones, and that

the Android and iPhone tweets are clearly from different people, posting during different times of day and using hashtags, links, and retweets in distinct ways. What’s more, we can see that the Android tweets are angrier and more negative, while the iPhone tweets tend to be benign announcements and pictures.

Source: http://varianceexplained.org/r/trump-tweets/

I think this post would be a fantastic and timely first day of class example for a stats / data analysis / data science course. It shows a pretty easy to follow analysis complete with the R code to reproduce it. It uses some sentiment analysis techniques that may not be the focus of an intro course, but since the context will be familiar to students it shouldn’t be too confusing for them. It also features techniques one will likely cover in an intro course, like confidence intervals.

As a bonus, many popular media outlets have covered the analysis in the last few days (e.g. see here, here, and here), and some of those articles might be even easier on the students to begin with before delving into the analysis in the blog post. Personally, I would start by playing this clip from the CTV News Channel featuring an interview with David to provide the context first (a video always helps wake students up), and then move on to discussing some of the visualizations from the blog post.

Michael Phelps’ hickies

Ok, they’re not hickies, but NPR referred to them as such, so I’m going with it… I’m talking about the cupping marks.

The NPR story can be heard (or read) here. There were two points made in this story that I think would be useful and fun to discuss in a stats course.

The first is the placebo effect. Often times in intro stats courses the placebo effect is mentioned as something undesirable that must be controlled for. This is true, but in this case the “placebo effect from cupping could work to reduce pain with or without an underlying physical benefit”. While there isn’t sufficient scientific evidence for the positive physical effect of cupping, the placebo effect might be just enough to give the edge to an individual olympian to outperform others by a small margin.

This brings me to my second point, the individual effect on extreme cases vs. a statistically significant effect on a population parameter. I briefly did a search on Google scholar for studies on the effectiveness of cupping and most use t-tests or ANOVAs to evaluate the effect on some average pain / severity of symptom score. If we can assume no adverse effect from cupping, might it still make sense for an individual to give the treatment a try even if the treatment has not been shown to statistically significantly improve average pain? I think this would be an interesting, and timely, question to discuss in class when introducing a method like the t-test. Often in tests of significance on a mean the variance of a treatment effect is viewed as a nuisance factor that is only useful for figuring out the variability of the sampling distribution of the mean, but in this case the variance of the treatment effect on individuals might also be of interest.

While my brief search didn’t result in any datasets on cupping, the following articles contain some summary statistics or citations to studies that report such statistics that one could bring into the classroom:

PS: I wanted to include a picture of these cupping marks on Michael Phelps, but I couldn’t easily find an image that was free to use or share. You can see a picture here.

PPS: Holy small sample sizes in some of the studies I came across!

How do Readers Perceive the Results of a Data Analysis?

As a statistician who often needs to explain methods and results of analyses to non-statisticians, I have been receptive to the influx of literature related to the use of storytelling or a data narrative. (I am also aware of the backlash related to use of the word “storytelling” in regards to scientific analysis, although I am less concerned about this than, say, these scholars.) As a teacher of data analysis, the use of narrative is especially poignant in that it ties the analyses performed intrinsically to the data context—or at the very least, to a logical flow of methods used.

I recently read an article posted on Brain Pickings about the psychology behind great stories. In the article, the author, Maria Popova,  cites Jerome Bruner’s (a pioneer of cognitive psychology) essay “Two Modes of Thought”:

There are two modes of cognitive functioning, two modes of thought, each providing distinctive ways of ordering experience, of constructing reality. The two (though complementary) are irreducible to one another. Efforts to reduce one mode to the other or to ignore one at the expense of the other inevitably fail to capture the rich diversity of thought.

Each of the ways of knowing, moreover, has operating principles of its own and its own criteria of well-formedness. They differ radically in their procedures for verification. A good story and a well-formed argument are different natural kinds. Both can be used as means for convincing another. Yet what they convince of is fundamentally different: arguments convince one of their truth, stories of their lifelikeness. The one verifies by eventual appeal to procedures for establishing formal and empirical proof. The other establishes not truth but verisimilitude.

The essence of his essay is that, as Popova states, “a story (allegedly true or allegedly fictional) is judged for its goodness as a story by criteria that are of a different kind from those used to judge a logical argument as adequate or correct.” [highlighting is mine]

What type of implications does this have on a data narrative, where, in principle, both criteria are being judged? Does one outweigh the other in a reader’s judgment? How does this affect reviewers when they are making decisions about publication?

My sense is that psychologically, the judgment of two differing sets of criteria will lead most humans to judge one as being more salient than the other. Presumably, most scientists would want the logical argument (or as Brunner calls it, the logico-scientific argument) to prevail in this case. However, I think it is the story that most readers, even those with scientific backgrounds, will tend to remember.

As for reviewers, again, the presumption is that they will evaluate a paper’s merit on its scientific evidence. But, as any reviewer can tell you, the writing and narrative presenting that evidence is in some ways as important for that evidence to be believable. This is why great courtroom attorneys  spend just as much time on developing the story around a case as marshaling a logical argument they will use to entice a jury.

There is little guidance for statisticians, especially nascent statisticians, about what the “right” degree of paradigmatic and logico-scientific argument should be when writing up data analysis. In fact, many of us (including myself) do not often consider the impact of a reader’s weighing of these different types of evidence. My training in graduate school was more focused on the latter type of writing, and it was only in undergraduate writing courses and through reading other authors’ thoughts about writing that the former is even relevant to me. Ultimately there may be not much to do about how reader’s perceive our work. Perhaps it is as Sylvia Plath wrote about poetry, once a poem is made available to the public, the right of interpretation belongs to the reader.”

“Mail merge” with RMarkdown

The term “mail merge” might not be familiar to those who have not worked in an office setting, but here is the Wikipedia definition:

Mail merge is a software operation describing the production of multiple (and potentially large numbers of) documents from a single template form and a structured data source. The letter may be sent out to many “recipients” with small changes, such as a change of address or a change in the greeting line.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mail_merge

The other day I was working on creating personalized handouts for a workshop. That is, each handout contained some standard text (including some R code) and some fields that were personalized for each participant (login information for our RStudio server). I wanted to do this in RMarkdown so that the R code on the handout could be formatted nicely. Googling “rmarkdown mail merge” didn’t yield much (that’s why I’m posting this), but I finally came across this tutorial which called the process “iterative reporting”.

Turns our this is a pretty straightforward task. Below is a very simple minimum working example. You can obviously make your markdown document a lot more complicated. I’m thinking holiday cards made in R…

All relevant files for this example can also be found here.

Input data: meeting_times.csv

This is a 20 x 2 csv file, an excerpt is shown below. I got the names from here.

name meeting_time
Peggy Kallas 9:00 AM
Ezra Zanders 9:15 AM
Hope Mogan 9:30 AM
Nathanael Scully 9:45 AM
Mayra Cowley 10:00 AM
Ethelene Oglesbee 10:15 AM

R script: mail_merge_script.R


## Packages
library(knitr)
library(rmarkdown)

## Data
personalized_info <- read.csv(file = "meeting_times.csv")

## Loop
for (i in 1:nrow(personalized_info)){
 rmarkdown::render(input = "mail_merge_handout.Rmd",
 output_format = "pdf_document",
 output_file = paste("handout_", i, ".pdf", sep=''),
 output_dir = "handouts/")
}

RMarkdown: mail_merge_handout.Rmd

---
output: pdf_document
---

```{r echo=FALSE}
personalized_info <- read.csv("meeting_times.csv", stringsAsFactors = FALSE)
name <- personalized_info$name[i]
time <- personalized_info$meeting_time[i]
```

Dear `r name`,

Your meeting time is `r time`.

See you then!

Save the Rmd file and the R script in the same folder (or specify the path to the Rmd file accordingly in the R script), and then run the R script. This will call the Rmd file within the loop and output 20 PDF files to the handouts directory. Each of these files look something like this

mail_merge_sample

with the name and date field being different in each one.

If you prefer HTML or Word output, you can specify this in the output_format argument in the R script.

Quantitatively Thinking

John Oliver said it best: April 15 combines Americans two most-hated things: taxes and math.  I’ve been thinking about the latter recently after hearing a fascinating talk last weekend about quantitative literacy.

QL is meant to describe our ability to think with, and about, numbers.  QL doesn’t include  high-level math skills, but usually is meant to describe  our ability to understand percentages and proportions and basic mathematical operations.This is a really important type of literacy, of course, but I fear that the QL movement could benefit from merging QL with SL–Statistical Literacy.

No surprise, that, coming from this blog.  But let me tell you why.  The speaker began by saying that many Americans can’t figure out, given the amount of gas in their tank, how many miles they have to drive before they run out of gas.

This dumbfounded me.  If it were literally true, you’d see stalled cars every few blocks in Los Angeles.  (Now we see them only every 3 or 4 miles.)  But I also thought, wait, do I know how far I can drive before I run out of gas?  My gas gauge says I have half a tank left, and I think (but am not certain) that my tank holds 16 gallons.  That means I probably have 8 gallons left.  I can see I’ve driven about 200 miles since I last filled up because I remembered to hit that little mileage reset button that keeps track of such things.  And so I’m averaging 25 mpg. But I’m also planning a trip to San Diego in the next couple of days, and then I’ll be driving on the highway, and so my mileage will improve.  And that 25 mpg is just an average, and averages have variability, but I don’t really have a sense of the variability of that mean.  And this problem requires that I know my mpg in the future, and, well, of all the things you can predict, the future is the hardest.  And so, I’m left to conclude that I don’t really know when my car will run out gas.

Now while I don’t know the exact number of miles I can drive, I can estimate the value.  With a little more data I can measure the uncertainty in this estimate, too, and use that to decide, when the tank gets low, if I should push my luck (or push my car).

And that example, I think, illustrates a problem with the QL movement.  The issue is not that Americans don’t know how to calculate how far they can drive before their car runs out of gas, but that they don’t know how to estimate how far they can drive. This is not just mincing words. The actual problem from which the initial startling claim was made was something like this: “Your car gets 25 mpg and you have 8 gallons left in your tank.  How far can you drive before you run out of gas?”  In real life, the answer is “It depends.”  This is a situation that every first-year stats student should recognize contains variability.   (For those of you whose car tries to tell you how many miles you have left in your tank, you’ve probably experienced that pleasing event when you begin your trip with, say, 87 miles left in your tank and end your trip 10 miles later with 88 miles left in your tank.  And so you know first hand the variability in this system.) The correct response to this question is to try to estimate the miles you can drive, and to recognize assumptions you must make to do this estimation.  Instead, we are meant to go into “math mode” and recognize this not as a life-skills problem but  a Dreaded Word Problem.  One sign that you are dealing with a DWP is that there are implicit assumptions that you’re just supposed to know, and you’re supposed to ignore your own experience and plow ahead so that you can get the “right” answer, as opposed to the true answer. (Which is: “it depends”).

A better problem would provide us with data.  Perhaps we would see the distances travelled on 8 gallons the last 10 trips.  Or perhaps on just 5 gallons and then would have to estimate how far we could go, on average, with 8 gallons.  And we should be asked to state our assumptions and to consider the consequences if those assumptions are wrong.  In short, we should be performing a modeling activity, and not a DWP.  Here’s an example:  On my last 5 trips, on 10 gallons of gas I drove 252, 184, 300, 355, 205 miles.  I have 10 gallons left, and I must drive 200 miles.  Do I need to fill up? Explain.**

The point is that one reason QL seems to be such a problem is not because we can’t think about numbers, but that the questions that have been used to conclude that we can’t think about numbers are not reflective of real-life problems.  Instead, these questions are reflective of the DWP culture.  I should emphasize that this is just one reason.  I’ve seen first hand that many students wrestle with proportions and basic number-sense.  This sort of question that comes up often in intro stats — “I am 5 inches taller than average.  One standard deviation is 3 inches.  How many standard deviations above average am I?”  –is a real stumper for many students, and this is sad because by the time they get to college this sort of thing should be answerable through habit, and not require thinking through for the very first time. (Interestingly, if you change the 5 to a 6 it becomes much easier for some, but not for all.)

And so, while trying to ponder the perplexities of finding your tax bracket, be consoled that a great number of others —who really knows how many others? — are feeling the same QL anxiety as you.  But for a good reason:  tax problems are perhaps the rare examples of  DWPs that actually matter.

**suggestions for improving this problem are welcome!

PD follow-up

Last Saturday the Mobilize project hosted a day-long professional development meeting for about 10 high school math teachers and 10 high school science teachers.  As always, it was very impressive how dedicated the teachers were, but I was particularly impressed by their creativity as, again and again, they demonstrated that they were able to take our lessons and add dimension to them that I, at least, didn’t initially see.

One important component of Mobilize is to teach the teachers statistical reasoning.  This is important because (a) the Mobilize content is mostly involved with using data analysis as a pathway for teaching math and science and (b) the Common Core (math) and the Next Generation (science) standards include much more statistics than previous curricula.  And yet, at least for math teachers, data analysis is not part of their education.

And so I was looking forward to seeing how the teachers performed on the “rank the airlines” Model Eliciting Activity, which was designed by the CATALYST project, led by Joan Garfield at U of Minnesota.  (Unit 2, Lesson 9 from the CATALYST web site.)  Model Eliciting Activities (MEA) are a lesson design which I’m getting really excited about, and trying to integrate into more of my own lessons.  Essentially, groups of students are given realistic and complex questions to answer.  The key is to provide some means for the student groups to evaluate their own work, so that they can iterate and achieve increasingly improved solutions.  MEAs began in the engineering-education world, and have been used increasingly in mathematics both at college and high school and middle school levels.  (A good starting point is “Model-eliciting activities (MEAs)  as a bridge between engineering education research and mathematics education research”, HamiIton, Lesh, Lester, Brilleslyper, 2008.  Advances in Engineering Education.) I was first introduced to MEAs when I was an evaluator for the CATALYST project, but didn’t really begin to see their potential until Joan Garfield pointed it out to me while I was trying to find ways of enhancing our Mobilize curriculum.

In the MEA we presented to the teachers on Saturday, they were shown data on arrival time delays from 5 airlines. Each airline had 10 randomly sampled flights into Chicago O’Hare from a particular year.  The primary purpose of the MEA is to help participants develop informal ways for comparing groups when variability is present.  In this case, the variability is present in an obvious way (different flights have different arrival delays) as well as less obvious ways (the data set is just one possible sample from a very large population, and there is sample-to-sample variability which is invisible. That is, you cannot see it in the data set, but might still use the data to conjecture about it.)

Before the PD I had wondered if the math and science teachers would approach the MEA differently.  Interestingly, during our debrief, one of the math teachers wondered the same thing.  I’m not sure if we saw truly meaningful differences, but here are some things we did see.

Most of the teams immediately hit on the idea of struggling to merge both the airline accuracy and the airline precision into their ranking.  However, only two teams presented rules that used both.  Interestingly, one used precision (variability) as the primary ranking and used accuracy (mean arrival delay) to break ties; another group did the opposite.

At least one team ranked only on precision, but developed a different measure of precision that was more relevant to the problem at hand:  the mean absolute deviations from 0 (rather than deviations from the mean).

One of the more interesting things that came to my attention, as a designer or curriculum, was that almost every team wrestled with what to do with outliers.  This made me realize that we do a lousy job of teaching people what to do with outliers, particularly since outliers are not very rare.   (One could argue whether, in fact, any of the observations in this MEA are outliers or not, but in order to engage in that argument you need a more sophisticated understanding of outliers than we develop in our students.  I, myself, would not have considered any of the observations to be outliers.)  For instance, I heard teams expressing concern that it wasn’t “fair” to penalize an airline that had a fairly good mean arrival time just because of one bad outlier.  Other groups wondered if the bad outliers were caused by weather delays and, if so, whether it was fair to include those data at all.   I was very pleased that no one proposed an outright elimination of outliers. (At least within my hearing.)  But my concern was that they didn’t seem to have constructive ways of thinking about outliers.

The fact that teachers don’t have a way of thinking about outliers is our fault.  I think this MEA did a great job of exposing the participants to a situation in which we really had to think about the effect of outliers in a context where they were not obvious data-entry errors.  But I wonder how we can develop more such experiences, so that teachers and students don’t fall into procedural-based, automated thinking.  (e.g. “If it is more than 1.5 times the IQR away from the median, it is an outlier and should be deleted.”  I have heard/read/seen this far too often.)

Do you have a lesson that engages students in wrestling with outliers? If so, please share!

Model Eliciting Activity: Prologue

I’m very excited/curious about tomorrow: I’m going to lead about 40 math and science teachers in a data-analysis activities, using one of the Model Eliciting Activities from the University of Minnesota Catalysts for Change Project. (One of our bloggers, Andy, was part of this project.) Specifically, we’re giving them the arrival-delay times for five different airlines into Chicago O’Hare. A random sample of 10 from each airline, and asking them to come up with rules for ranking the airlines from best to worst.

I’m curious to see what they come up with, particularly whether  the math teachers differ terribly from the science teachers. The math teachers are further along in our weekend professional development program than are the science teachers, and so I’m hoping they’ll identify the key characteristics of a distribution (all together: center, spread, shape; well, shape doesn’t play much of a role here) and use these to formulate their rankings. We’ve worked hard on helping them see distributions as a unit, and not a collection of individual points, and have seen big improvements in the teachers, most of whom have not taught statistics before.

The science teachers, I suspect, will be a little bit more deterministic in their reasoning, and, if true to my naive stereotype of science teachers, will try to find explanations for individual points. Since I haven’t worked as much with the science teachers, I’m curious to see if they’ll see the distribution as a whole, or instead try to do point-by-point comparisons.

When we initially started this project, we had some informal ideas that the science teachers would take more naturally to data analysis than would the math teachers. This hasn’t turned out to be entirely true. Many of the math teachers had taught statistics before, and so had some experience. Those who hadn’t, though, tended to be rather procedurally oriented. For example, they often just automatically dropped outliers from their analysis without any thought at all, just because they thought that that was the rule. (This has been a very hard habit to break.)

The math teachers also had a very rigid view of what was and was not data. The science teachers, on the other hand, had a much more flexible view of data. In a discussion about whether photos from a smart phone were data, a majority of math teachers said no and a majority of science teachers said yes. On the other hand, the science teachers tend to use data to confirm what they already know to be true, rather than use it to discover something. This isn’t such a problem with the math teachers, in part because they don’t have preconceptions of the data and so have nothing to confirm. In fact, we’ve worked hard with the math teachers, and with the science teachers, to help them approach a data set with questions in mind. But it’s been a challenge teaching them to phrase questions for their students in which the answers aren’t pre-determined or obvious, and which are empirically oriented. (For example: We would like them to ask something like “what activities most often led to our throwing away redcycling into the trash bin?” rather than “Is it wrong to throw trash into the recycling bin?” or “Do people throw trash into the recycling bin?”)

So I’ll report back soon on what happened and how it went.

Yikes…It’s Been Awile

Apparently our last blog post was in August. Dang. Where did five months go? Blog guilt would be killing me, but I swear it was just yesterday that Mine posted.

I will give a bit of review of some of the books that I read this semester related to statistics. Most recently, I finished Hands-On Matrix Algebra Using R: Active and Motivated Learning with Applications. This was a fairly readable book for those looking to understand a bit of matrix algebra. The emphasis is definitely in economics, but their are some statistics examples as well. I am not as sure where the “motivated learning” part comes in, but the examples are practical and the writing is pretty coherent.

The two books that I read that I am most excited about are Model Based Inference in the Life Sciences: A Primer on Evidence and The Psychology of Computer Programming. The latter, written in the 70’s, explored psychological aspects of computer programming, especially in industry, and on increasing productivity. Weinberg (the author) stated his purpose in the book was to study “computer programming as a human activity.” This was compelling on many levels to me, not the least of which is to better understand how students learn statistics when using software such as R.

Reading this book, along with participating in a student-led computing club in our department has sparked some interest to begin reading the literature related to these ideas this spring semester (feel free to join us…maybe we will document our conversations as we go). I am very interested in how instructor’s choose software to teach with (see concerns raised about using R in Harwell (2014). Not so fast my friend: The rush to R and the need for rigorous evaluation of data analysis and software in education. Education Research Quarterly.) I have also thought long and hard about not only what influences the choice of software to use in teaching (I do use R), but also about subsequent choices related to that decision (e.g., if R is adopted, which R packages will be introduced to students). All of these choices probably have some impact on student learning and also on students’ future practice (what you learn in graduate school is what you ultimately end up doing).

The Model Based Inference book was a shorter, readable version of Burnham and Anderson’s (2003) Springer volume on multimodel inference and information theory. I was introduced to these ideas when I taught out of Jeff Long’s, Longitudinal Data Analysis for the Behavioral Sciences Using R. They remained with me for several years and after reading Anderson’s book, I am going to teach some of these ideas in our advanced methods course this spring.

Anyway…just some short thoughts to leave you with. Happy Holidays.

Pie Charts. Are they worth the Fight?

Like Rob, I recently got back from ICOTS. What a great conference. Kudos to everyone who worked hard to organize and pull it off. In one of the sessions I was at, Amelia McNamara (@AmeliaMN) gave a nice presentation about how they were using data and computer science in high schools as a part of the Mobilize Project. At one point in the presentation she had a slide that showed a screenshot of the dashboard used in one of their apps. It looked something like this.

screenshot-app

During the Q&A, one of the critiques of the project was that they had displayed the data as a donut plot. “Pie charts (or any kin thereof) = bad” was the message. I don’t really want to fight about whether they are good, nor bad—the reality is probably in between. (Tufte, the most cited source to the ‘pie charts are bad’ rhetoric, never really said pie charts were bad, only that given the space they took up they were, perhaps less informative than other graphical choices.) Do people have trouble reading radians? Sure. Is the message in the data obscured because of this? Most of the time, no.

plots_1Here, is the bar chart (often the better alternative to the pie chart that is offered) and the donut plot for the data shown in the Mobilize dashboard screenshot? The message is that most of the advertisements were from posters and billboards. If people are interested in the n‘s, that can be easily remedied by including them explicitly on the plot—which neither the bar plot nor donut plot has currently. (The dashboard displays the actual numbers when you hover over the donut slice.)

It seems we are wasting our breath constantly criticizing people for choosing pie charts. Whether we like it or not, the public has adopted pie charts. (As is pointed out in this blog post, Leland Wilkinson even devotes a whole chapter to pie charts in his Grammar of Graphics book.) Maybe people are reasonably good at pulling out the often-not-so-subtle differences that are generally shown in a pie chart. After all, it isn’t hard to understand (even when using a 3-D exploding pie chart) that the message in this pie chart is that the “big 3” browsers have a strong hold on the market.

The bigger issue to me is that these types of graphs are only reasonable choices when examining simple group differences—the marginals. Isn’t life, and data, more complex than that?Is the distribution of browser type the same for Mac and PC users? For males and females? For different age groups? These are the more interesting questions.

The dashboard addresses this through interactivity between the multiple donut charts. Clicking a slice in the first plot, shows the distribution of product types (the second plot) for those ads that fit the selected slice—the conditional distributions.

So it is my argument, that rather than referring to a graph choice as good or bad, we instead focus on the underlying question prompting the graph in the first place. Mobilize acknowledges that complexity by addressing the need for conditional distributions. Interactivity and computing make the choice of pie charts a reasonable choice to display this.

*If those didn’t persuade you, perhaps you will be swayed by the food argument. Donuts and pies are two of my favorite food groups. Although bars are nice too. For a more tasty version of the donut plot, perhaps somebody should come up with a cronut plot.

**The ggplot2 syntax for the bar and donut plot are provided below. The syntax for the donut plot were adapted from this blog post.

# Input the ad data
ad = data.frame(
	type = c("Poster", "Billboard", "Bus", "Digital"),
	n = c(529, 356, 59, 81)
	)

# Bar plot
library(ggplot2)
ggplot(data = ad, aes(x = type, y = n, fill = type)) +
     geom_bar(stat = "identity", show_guide = FALSE) +
     theme_bw()

# Add addition columns to data, needed for donut plot.
ad$fraction = ad$n / sum(ad$n)
ad$ymax = cumsum(ad$fraction)
ad$ymin = c(0, head(ad$ymax, n = -1))

# Donut plot
ggplot(data = ad, aes(fill = type, ymax = ymax, ymin = ymin, xmax = 4, xmin = 3)) +
     geom_rect(colour = "grey30", show_guide = FALSE) +
     coord_polar(theta = "y") +
     xlim(c(0, 4)) +
     theme_bw() +
     theme(panel.grid=element_blank()) +
     theme(axis.text=element_blank()) +
     theme(axis.ticks=element_blank()) +
     geom_text(aes(x = 3.5, y = ((ymin+ymax)/2), label = type)) +
     xlab("") +
     ylab("")

 

 

Increasing the Numbers of Females in STEM

I just read a wonderful piece written about how the Harvey Mudd increased the ratio of females declaring a major in Computer Science from 10% to 40% since 2006. That is awesome!

One of the things that they attribute this success to is changing the name of their introductory course. They renamed the course from Introduction to programming in Java to Creative Approaches to Problem Solving in Science and Engineering using Python.

Now, clearly, they changed the language they were using (literally) as well,from Java to Python, but it does beg the question, “what’s in a name?” According to Jim Croce and Harvey Mudd, a lot. If you don’t believe that, just ask anyone who has been in a class with the moniker Data Science, or any publisher who has published a book recently entitled [Insert anything here] Using R.

It would be interesting to study the effect of changing a course name. Are there words or phrases that attract more students to the course (e.g., creative, problem solving)?  Are there gender differences? How long does the effect last? Is it a flash-in-the-pan? Or does it continue to attract students after a short time period? (My guess is that the teacher plays a large role in the continued attraction of students to the course.)

Looking at the effects of a name is not new. Stephen Dubner and Steve Levitt of Freakonomics fame have illuminated folks about research about whether a child’s name has an effect on a variety of outcomes such as educational achievement and future income [podcast], and suggest that it isn’t as predictive as some people believe. Perhaps someone could use some of their ideas and methods to examine the effect of course names.

Has anyone tried this with statistics (aside from Data Science)? I know Harvard put in place a course called Real Life Statistics: Your Chance for Happiness (or Misery) which got good numbers of students (and a lot of press). My sense is that this happens much more in liberal arts schools (David Moore’s Concepts and Controversies book springs to mind). What would good course words or phrases for statistics include? Evidence. Uncertainty. Data. Variation. Visualization. Understanding. Although these are words that statisticians use constantly, I have to admit they all sound better than An Introduction to Statistics.