I was hunting for a book on my bookshelves when I got distracted and started browsing. In one book, I came across this great idea that I didn’t want to lose. So I thought I’d type it here in an attempt to remember.

One of the hard things about working with derivatives, for me, is that I can easily get caught up in the wonderful (to me, annoying to my kids) algebra. We have the chain rule, the product rule, the quotient rule, and strange and funky derivatives like the derivatives of the inverse trig functions. And I admit it. I *love* going overboard with these sorts of questions. There’s something really cool about being able to have an answer to a problem take up the length of a page. *It looks cool, darnit!* And when we get to this point in the curriculum, I often lose sight of the meaning of the derivative. **The process takes precedence.** And for weeks, we’re swimming (drowning?) in a sea of equations.

When I get to that point, I hope to remember to give my kids this problem:

Find the derivative of . I’m confident that by the time I’m done with them, my kids will get .

**But then I have to ask them to sketch a graph of **.

This great setup is on pages 64 and 65 of Ian Stewart’s *Concepts of Modern Mathematics*. He continues, describing what happened when he gave this problem to his class:

This caused great consternation, because it revealed that the formula didn’t make any sense. For any value of , is at most equal to 1, so . Since logarithms of negative numbers cannot be defined, the value does not exist; the formula is a fraud.

On the other hand, the ‘derivative’ … does make sense for certain values of …

Some people might enjoy living in a world where one can take a function which does not exist, differentiate it, and end up with one that does exist. I am not one of them.

There’s a great moral here, about remembering that taking the derivative of a function *means* something. Yes, you can talk about composition of functions and domains and ranges and all that stuff, but that’s not the enduring understanding I would pull from this. It is: divorcing calculus from meaning and focusing on routine procedures is a dangerous road to travel — so one must always be vigilant.

It actually reminds me of one of my most favorite calculus problems, which to solve it needs one to stop focusing on procedure and start *thinking.* I would never give this to my calculus kids, but for the very high achieving AP Calculus BC kid, this might throw them for a loop (in a good way):

I first saw this problem in Loren C. Larson’s *Problem-Solving Through Problems* (pages 32-33). I don’t quite want to share the solution in case you want to try it yourself. After the jump, I’ll throw down the answer (but not solution) so you can see if you got it right.

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