Last week we started working with infinite geometric series, a topic I personally love. First of all, it’s one of the few places in a high school curriculum where deep, genuine philosophical questions bubble all the way up to the surface of a mathematical discussion. Second, it marks the place in my own academic life where I experienced a religious conversion to Orthodox Mathematicism:

In the beginning there was a single term. And to that term the Teacher did add another of smaller magnitude. Then a third term, smaller still, appeared upon the right hand side of the chalkboard, and it was revealed to me that the terms did decrease exponentially. My heart saw that this shrinking and adding proceedeth forever and ever, terms without end, Amen. And lo, when I beheld the sum, it was finite, and I knew that it was Good.

If my introduction to convergent series was a baptism, then using one to demonstrate that .999… = 1 was my confirmation. Now, having done the same thing with my students, I think it might be even more interesting from this side of the desk. In particular, two of their questions/comments highlight two very different understandings of infinity and the real numbers.

First, the ingredients of a metaphor. If you’ve ever been a runner, this is easy. If not, I’m going to need you to go on a quick jog before you read any farther so you can appreciate the rest of this carefully crafted rhetorical device. I’ll wait…

When you drive the same stretch of road over and over again, you tend to experience it dynamically. You pass a landmark, anticipate a curve, accelerate over a little rise. The road changes in front of your eyes. You see the road as a** process**. But when you run along the same route, it looks completely different. There is just this monolithic expanse of concrete laid out over the landscape. You can creep around and explore its different features, but you experience the road essentially as a static

**object**. In other words, you experience the road as it actually

**is**. Keep this in mind as you read the following two questions from my actual students.

# D: “But Mr. Lusto, if .999… is exactly 1, then .999… plus .999… should equal exactly 2, but it doesn’t. It’s 1.999…8.”

What a freaking fantastic argument! Here’s a student who has accepted my proof, interpreted it, thought about it critically, and deduced a logical contradiction. My heart swelled a little bit. Unfortunately, the flaw in his reasoning highlights a fundamental misconception. D is viewing .999… like a driver. He sees it as a dynamic process, repeatedly appending a 9 to an ever-expanding sequence of 9s. He might even accept that this can theoretically go on forever, but his point-of-view still gets him into some trouble. When D mentally sums .999… and .999…, he’s suggesting that there are two “last 9s” that, when added, produce a trailing 8. But of course there *are *no “last 9s.” He’s implicitly terminated the process prematurely (which is to say, at all). Hence his objection, though thoroughly beautiful, is ultimately illusory.

# J: “But Mr. Lusto, if .999… equals 1, then doesn’t 1.999… equal 2? Then can’t we write every number in two different ways?”

This student views .999… like a runner. The reason that .999… and 1 can be meaningfully thought of as equal is because they represent the same static value. They’re just two different names for the same object. Here’s a student who sees .999… as it actually is. And now, because of that, his concern is genuine. The fact that many real numbers have two decimal representations (one with infinite trailing 0s, one with infinite trailing 9s) is a true mathematical/philosophical problem. In fact, it’s an important result: those sorts of numbers turn out to be dense in the reals (in the topological sense). J may never care about, or even get enough math under his belt to *understand,* that statement, but his view of the nature of infinity is already more nuanced than D’s.

Something to think about next time you’re driving. Better yet, next time you’re running.

Beautiful. I suppose it’s a sign of a true love of mathematics and of teaching if you never tire of this conversation. This is a conversation about ideas, and about making our intuitive ideas formal; there is always messiness in that domain. And from that messiness comes something to talk about.

So I’m curious about J. Is J pointing to “integers” when he says that

every number can be written in two different ways? Does J notice that 0.2=0.1999… for example? And therefore all terminating decimals (not just integers) can be written in two different ways with this trick? Or is that little mind-expanding nugget still around the bend for him?And has J begun to wonder what

otherinfinite series turn out to be equal to something we don’t expect?And have you ever read Anna Sfard on the process of

objectificationin mathematics? You’d dig her, I think.Knowing J, I’m almost positive he meant

every integerwhen he saidevery number. His question came very quickly in the course of the discussion, so I’m not sure he had time to consider any other cases. I was the one who brought up terminating decimals in general (I think I actually used the example of 0.5 = 0.4999…), after the fact. I’ll let them all stew on that.Sadly, I don’t know whether J will have a lot of time to consider other, possibly surprising, infinite series unless he does it on his own time. One of my great frustrations, I’m learning, is my ridiculously tight schedule. If I want to get through everything, I have

one dayfor infinite series. Teaching is breaking my heart a little bit each day.Thanks for the Anna Sfard tip. As we speak, I’m reading her paper on the dual nature of process and object in math.

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It might be interesting to quickly have a discusion along the following lines: Words are in the dictionary according to the lexicographical order (alphabet order). But if 1.0… and 0.9… are the same thing then how do we know that we can compare numbers in the same way? We can’t simply compare them in the units position and say that because 1 > 0 we know that 0.9… is before 1.

This sort of touches on your distinction between process and object but in a different way. Wondering where 1/.9… belongs on the number line forces us to think of it as an object. Going through the algorithmic ordering processing is a process.

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