Going through some old letters I wrote to my father, which he saved. An excerpt from December 4, 1978, when I had been a section leader for the first-year econ course at Harvard.
My exam really separated the men from the women. The four worst grades in the class were all from women, and a woman tied for the fifth worst. My class is a sample of students in which sex-based differences in upbringing are apparent. The women are not math and science oriented, whereas the men have some background in math and science.
The exam was not mathematical, but like all economics exams stressed applications to problems rather than knowledge of facts or formulas. I felt that the results, with a few exceptions, represented what people knew about the course.
One sad comment on my teaching is that the student who got the best grade is the one who comes to class least often.
Today, I would say that my teaching was a perfect example of the Null Hypothesis.
Being a teaching assistant at Harvard was eye-opening. It was scary how many weak students were in my section. I remember teaching a simple consumption function, C = a + bY and five of my students independently came up to me afterward because they did not understand what a and b were supposed to mean. They had been too uncomfortable with 8th-grade algebra to understand the concept of line with a slope and an intercept but too ego-protective to ask the question publicly in class.
By the way, if I had to bet, I would wager that Harvard students today are much better at 8th-grade algebra but are even more ego-sensitive. And I would wager that the male–female difference in ability to handle a course with simple applied math has narrowed or even reversed.
The next year, I was a teaching assistant at MIT. That was a completely different experience. There, when I was trying to explain the concept of “rational expectations,” (a concept typically not taught to first-year students in those days) one student piped up skeptically, “That’s like saying that the batter knows what the pitcher is going to throw before he throws it.” That was a darn good analogy.
Ken Rogoff told his first-year students at MIT that he would give an A to anyone who could help him prove a mathematical conjecture (this was for his Ph.D thesis). He ended up getting two different correct proofs.
MIT undergrads were scary that way.