Building Community in an Online World

By Cindy Lawrence, National Museum of Mathematics executive director and CEO

Photo Credit: National Museum of Mathematics

The National Museum of Mathematics (MoMath) celebrates the wonders of mathematics. As Manhattan’s only hands-on science center and the nation’s only museum centered on mathematics, MoMath demonstrates the power of bringing hands-on math to the public. Located in the heart of Manhattan’s Flatiron district, MoMath’s 19,000-square-foot space on the north end of Madison Square Park is home to more than 40 interactive, engaging, and playful exhibits that showcase the fascinating world of mathematics and that allow visitors to slip naturally into the world of pattern, shape, and number. Since it opened eight years ago, MoMath has welcomed more than 1,000,000 people, encouraging direct physical exploration of the surprising breadth and variety of mathematics and allowing children and adults alike to experience the exhilarating moment of mathematical discovery.

Of course, like most museums, MoMath closed its doors to the public in March 2020. But the Museum was immediately ready to dive into the world of online experiences. MoMath had been playing “what if” for weeks, more as a thought experiment than out of any serious expectation of what was to come. So when New York City shut down, suddenly and with little real warning, the Museum launched into action, welcoming its first-ever online school field trip on the very same day that it hosted its last in-person visitors. And its public programs continued to run, thanks to the early presenters who bravely and enthusiastically jumped into the new world of digital communication. But how would online programming work in the long term as a substitute for the in-person, interpersonal connections, exploration, and discovery that had become MoMath’s hallmark?

To be sure, there were challenges. Connectivity is not universal and reaching disadvantaged populations is difficult. Physical interactives need to be limited to common household items, which themselves may not be universally available. And many who are in front of screens all day for work or school are reluctant to add yet more computer time to their lives.

But even as these difficulties remain, other problems were overcome. A popular code-breaking program that used physical code wheels was adapted through development of an online interactive. A program that would have had people jointly constructing a mosaic in the physical world was turned into a virtual build, with participants sending photos that were electronically combined to create the final artwork – which itself was made only more beautiful by the imperfections and inconsistencies that were oh-so-human. And a math festival that typically takes place on a crowded public plaza turned into a mathematical vaudeville show, with a steady stream of presenters challenged to convey an interesting and engaging bit of mathematics in fifteen minutes or less.

In summary, the Museum continued. Programs were modified, presenters adapted, and life continued on. And that might have been the end of the story.

But there’s more to this tale than simple adaptation. In this new world, people are prohibited from enjoying even the most basic forms of human contact: firm handshakes conveying warmth when meeting someone new; collaborative efforts while leaning in over a computer screen or gathering around a whiteboard; engaging in stimulating discourse and sparkling conversation over a shared meal. These sorts of experiences are suddenly just memories from an increasingly distant past. And people are missing – even craving – those everyday human connections, those opportunities to interact, in person, in a way that has become ever more treasured in retrospect. The new commonality? A deadly public health crisis taking over all aspects of our lives, from how we behave to what we read to what we talk about to what we fear.

And yet it turns out that there was a new dimension to what MoMath could offer, a silver lining to a truly devastating situation. Math is a universal language, and it is one that allows people around the world to build new human connections even as many are continuing to isolate at home. And at a time when divisiveness seems to have become all too common, MoMath suddenly had an opportunity to unite people of all ages and of all backgrounds over a shared enjoyment of mathematics.

Cindy Lawrence is a lifelong math enthusiast who enjoys sharing the wonder and beauty of mathematics with audiences of all ages and backgrounds, and demonstrating that math can be interactive, exciting, and fun.

How does online programming build community? Well, first and foremost, it provides opportunities for people from around the world to connect. MoMath has always strived to bring engaging math presenters to the stage, but the audience was limited to those who could make their way into Manhattan. Now, from schoolchildren in India to teachers in Africa, from families in Australia to college students in Europe, and from east to west and north to south all across our own country, the online auditorium has become a welcoming space for people from all over the world to come together for shared experiences of mathematical wonder.

And top-flight presenters in math could suddenly be on a world stage, right from their own homes. No longer did giving a presentation require travel, time away from home and work obligations, and extensive funding – and all to reach a geographically limited audience. Now, with the flip of a switch and the push of a button, and at the cost of just an hour or two of time, those who have something they wish to share will find a global audience of enthusiastic people eager to hear from them. And those who might never have come into contact with renowned mathematicians suddenly have the opportunity, no matter where they are, to engage with some of the top minds in the field.

In the physical world, it can be intimidating to ask a question, especially when those around you seem to be having no difficulty keeping up with the presentation. The cloak of anonymity one can find in the online world actually encourages discourse. Identified only by a first name or perhaps even by a pseudonym, inhibitions are removed. How wonderful it is to see questions asked…and answered…by members of the audience. That an online chat can provide a supportive environment encouraging inquiry and thoughtful discussion has been a wonderful realization.

The online world has also provided an opportunity for multi-generational connections to develop. Grandparents who haven’t seen their grandkids in months find that math, if presented in a fun, engaging way, can entice the younger generation to join them in an hour of exploration and discovery. Hearing from one family that three generations had come together at a family math event was heartwarming, especially as recounted by the grateful grandfather. And this is true not just for families, but for total strangers as well. Watching an elderly person, self-identified as alone and fallen on hard times, connect with a whip-smart young student at a recent evening gaming event was truly a magical moment.

Why is it that math is so well positioned to serve in this role of being a global, intergenerational online connector? It’s because at its heart, mathematics is an aesthetic pursuit. It’s not about learning to do arithmetic, it’s about investigating the world around us and finding universal truths that can be both beautiful and inspiring. Math transcends language and culture, and it invites people of all ages and backgrounds to enter. Online programming has thrown open the doors to this magical world, inviting all to enter, to learn, to enjoy, and to connect. And when this pandemic recedes, and we all return to our normal lives and our usual connections, it is my sincere hope that we can and will find a way to keep the doors propped wide open and to continue to welcome the world into the wonders of mathematics.