ASU Research E-Magazine: Eating, Drinking and Breathing Mathematics

It’s a boot camp with a brainy emphasis, a strenuous exercise regimen for young minds. Joaquin Bustoz is usually the commanding officer, but this morning he’s the drill sergeant, and the sleepy-eyed teenagers who slide into their desks at 7:55 a.m. sit up straight when he enters.

Bustoz goes right to the blackboard and begins charting equations. He covers the board rapidly, peppering the students with questions: “What do we get here? 2x minus 4? What’s the value of g-sub-x? Two? A piece of cake!”

No time to slack off here. The youngsters call out ready answers, writing in their notebooks, moving through today’s assignment with confidence and an air of determination. Bustoz keeps it up for almost an hour and a half.

The students, just 16- and 17-years old, are taking college-level calculus at Arizona State University. They are participants in the Math-Science Honors Program, a rigorous academic summer program for minority youngsters in which they eat, sleep, and breathe mathematics and science for five weeks.

No phones. No TVs. No Walkmans. Just 10 to 12 hours a day of class, problem sessions, and tutoring.

“It’s intense,” says a husky, shorts-clad boy from Tucson. “It can be stressful. You have 100 problems a night in this class, plus two quizzes and a test every week.”

The program’s goal: increasing the number of minority students who enter college and pursue degrees in mathematics and science. The method: complete immersion in the subjects, coupled with a committed staff of faculty and counselors who demand discipline from their young recruits but nurture them like mother hens.

In 1994, the program accepted 200 of the 750 students who applied. Now in its ninth year, the program is so successful that about one-third of all the mathematics majors at ASU are minority students, a higher proportion than any other major. Many participants go into engineering and science.

More than 200 students from past summer programs currently are enrolled at ASU. Their work is solid. They maintain among the highest grade-point averages on campus. About half had better than a 3.0 in 1994.

Students say the academic “boot camp” atmosphere adds a strong factor of camaraderie to the program. They do homework in groups, helping each other with problems, often working late into the night in their dormitory rooms.

“It’s fun,” says another young girl. “We could have gone to the recreation center last night. But we just hung out and did problems together.”

Something in their bearing is quite visible as these students stroll back from lunch at the Memorial Union, chattering animatedly, ignoring the July heat. Their faces are bright as they laugh with each other in the hallway during a break. There’s a bond: We are different. We are special. We can accomplish this.

For some, like Erica Gonzalez, it’s the first time they’ve been with other highly motivated students of the same ethnic background.

“This program meant everything to me,” says Gonzalez, who entered the program in 1988 and graduated with a mathematics degree from ASU this past year. “At my high school, I had great friends, but they weren’t the kind who were going to college. Then I came here, and the other students were a lot more studious. We were like a big family, staying up late and doing our homework.

“I built a network of friends who were like me,” she adds. “We were Hispanic, we had the same background, we even liked the same music.” All are motivated.

“Coming here showed me that I could do anything. People tell you that in school, but you don’t believe them,” Gonzalez says. “Here you actually see yourself accomplishing it. Dr. Bustoz really pushes you and encourages you. He’s gruff, but he’s beautiful inside.”

Bustoz has been the driving force behind the program since he started it in 1985. Since that time, the program has grown from a two-week seminar for 32 students to an institute with multiple programs and a budget close to $1 million.

The Math-Science Honors Program continues to be the backbone of the Institute for Strengthening Underrepresented Minority Students in Mathematics and Science, which reaches onto several Indian reservations as well as into urban Phoenix.

Bustoz started the program out of his frustration at seeing so few minority students major in mathematics, a department he chaired at ASU for three years. He realized that not much had changed since his time as the only Mexican-American mathematics major at ASU back in the early 1960s. Even today, Bustoz is one of only about 25 Mexican-Americans in the country with a doctorate in mathematics.

“Why?” he says. “Where are we failing? American students in general are not doing well in mathematics and science, and we don’t know why. Minority students in particular tend to become less involved in mathematics and science after the second year of high school.”

That’s why the ASU professor likes to engage the better students after their sophomore year in high school. He brings them to campus for five weeks of college algebra and trigonometry taught by some of the brightest faculty instructors.

“The key is to bring them into an environment where they are exposed to mathematics in a very compelling manner,” Bustoz says. “Math is a passionate subject, an expression like art or music. It is a human endeavor like anything else. What students don’t like is the repetition they find in high school.”

Students who come back for a second summer can take chemistry, biology, or calculus. They receive college credit for their coursework. Classes are small, and the afternoons are filled with one-on-one tutoring and group sessions where students help each other. A high level of support is constant.

Bustoz says he doesn’t necessarily look for a mathematically talented student. He’s after students who show interest and promise. In selecting students, Bustoz balances grades with letters of recommendation and their stated career interests.

“People think those who choose science or mathematics as a major do so because they have an unnatural talent or gift,” Bustoz says. “In point of fact, very successful mathematicians are successful because they work extraordinarily hard. It’s what they want to do. We show these kids that success is predicated on how hard they work.”

The students come from all over the state. They come from Chinle, Winslow, Globe, Yuma, Grand Canyon, Page, Sells, Douglas, and Safford, as well as the Tucson and Phoenix areas. Mary Frances Luna, associate director, and her student counselors visit the home of every invited student. They speak to parents and explain the program.

Bustoz says the program has consumed him in ways he never anticipated. He invests so much of himself because he knows the circumstances of their lives; he once was there.

“I’m the product of the same sort of neighborhood as theirs. I lived in Guadalupe as a kid. I am profoundly affected when I go to a school on the Pima reservation and see that things have not changed significantly since I was a kid picking cotton with them.”

Bustoz graduated from Tempe High School in 1957, the son of a former farmworker who went to work for the Tempe Elementary School District in 1935. His mother was a cafeteria worker for the district. A Tempe elementary school is named for his parents, Joaquin and Ramona Bustoz.

The ASU professor remembers one of the most meaningful events in his life as being taken to ASU by a student teacher to see a chemistry lab when he was in fifth or sixth grade. Because strong role models made such a difference in his childhood, Bustoz and his staff maintain close contact with the students who eventually enroll at ASU.

“I’m their adviser, slave driver, employer, and supervisor,” says the trim professor, his brusque manner failing to hide his sense of humor.

“I have constant contact with the mathematics majors who were my summer students. When they screw up, I chew them out. I involve myself more than they would like in their lives.”

Some go on to other universities. The students who attend ASU continue to take mathematics classes together and receive tutoring. Often they room together, socializing at the “math house,” a residence near campus.

Many of them work after school and during the summer as tutors at Friendly House, a community center in Phoenix. Others work at St. Peter’s School on the Gila River Indian Reservation. Not surprisingly, several have returned to teach mathematics in their home communities after graduating from ASU.

“This is the most measureable impact,” Bustoz says. “If it is true that teachers play a significant role in the future of their students, then we will have a profound impact on tomorrow’s students.

“We are sending them the best and the brightest, exceptionally well-trained teachers who are enthusiastic about mathematics in the school,” he adds. “These are people from their neighborhoods, their communities. It’s very meaningful when a child walks into the classroom and sees one of them there.”—Sarah Auffret