Showing posts with label cognitive issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cognitive issues. Show all posts

Saturday, October 16, 2010

The Bigotry Defense?

Some of you may be familiar with the Alex Barton/Wendy Portillo case. For those of you who aren't, it started two years ago, when a kindergarten teacher (Portillo) had her class list off why they didn't like an autistic classmate (Alex Barton) and then had them vote him out of her class. To briefly summarize a really, really long story, Alex is now doing quite well academically in a different school district (although he still bears emotional scars), Wendy Portillo is back in the classroom (retaining her tenure) and again abusing students, and Alex's mom, Melissa, has filed a federal lawsuit against the Portillo and the St. Lucie County school district.

I'm writing this blog entry about that last one. You see, the school district's defense is apparently going to be something along the lines of the argument that the incident didn't hurt Alex... because autistic children can't understand -- or be hurt by -- "negative social feedback" (or, in other words, someone else doing something nasty to them).

No, I'm not joking.

After going through quite a bit of trouble, I've managed to obtain some of the documents that the district's submitted in their defense. Specifically, I've obtained the "expert testimony" that they commissioned from two doctors: Dr. Sue Antell and Dr. Max Wiznitzer.

These are quotes from public documents available on PACER, albeit not for free. I had to jump through a lot of hoops to get them (although, admittedly, most of these were technical -- I didn't bring a memory card with me when I went to visit my school's law library, the law library's one computer set up for PACER access was an antiquated technical nightmare, and I didn't want to unnecessarily spend money to get the documents from my home system), but they're still technically public domain. As such, I've uploaded them to RapidShare to cut down on the metaphorical red tape. Feel free to host them elsewhere.

I'm not going to comment over-much on them. I'm going to let what they wrote speak for themselves. I will, however, clarify a bit on both.

To start off with, there's this section of Dr. Antell's testimony -- delivered before she ever met or examined Alex (whose full name is Caleb Alex Barton, although he does not respond to "Caleb"):
... Based upon this review, it is my opinion that CAB probably does have Autism, a disorder of language, executive functioning and social relatedness, which profoundly impacts upon how a child perceives and reacts to the language and behavior of other people.

It is further my opinion that the events described would not be expected to have any long term impact even upon a typical child who might appreciate more of what was going on around him. As they grow up, children experience numerous negative or unpleasant experiences with peers, teachers and parents. Such experiences are part of the normal experience of development. They serve to help a child develop an appreciation for the impact of his behavior on others in his world, and are important in the development of sympathy, empathy, and altruism. This is quite different from the constant and chronic bullying which we unfortunately see somewhat among older children, or the chronic systematic emotional abuse of a child by the adults in his life. In any child with Autism, such experiences are going to be processed quite differently. Depending on the extent of the pragmatic language dysfunction, the lack of social relatedness, and the impairment in the ability to appreciate another's point of view (what psychologists call "Theory of Mind") it is quite likely that many, if not most children with autism would simply have no emotional connection to such events. While they might encode and recall the "script" (i.e. the language used and the actual events), their ability to be emotionally impacted by what is almost entirely a language based experience would be anticipated to be exceedingly limited. This is not to imply that Autistic children cannot experience trauma. Rather it attempts to distinguish between possibly unpleasant events which are the result of linguistic exchanges from more primitive responses which might involve non verbal actions, or verbal communications which would produce feelings of fear or terror which are generated by non cortical brain regions.

Beyond this, we have the opinion of a qualified child psychiatrist that CAB suffered no emotional distress as a result of this incident, and another who described behavior with autism but not PTSD.

Based on the foregoing, it is my opinion to a reasonable degree of neuropsychological probability that CAB has not demonstrated any real evidence of emotional distress as a consequence of the events of 5-21-08. It is further my impression that he does not require any ongoing treatment, and depending on his ability to appreciate what is happening in such therapy, that this poses a risk of creating a trauma where none actually exists.
Two clarifications: "The events described" were the vote-out incident. The same is true of "the events of 5-21-08".

And then there's Wiznitzer's testimony:
In summary, Caleb Barton is an 8 year old boy with a diagnosis of an autism spectrum disorder (Asperger disorder) and behavioral features labeled as attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (including compatible rating scales). He has a history of challenging behaviors in kindergarten with no details of his behavioral functioning since that time (except for the report of Dr. Coleman). School records document impairment in social interaction with peers (supported by psychiatric evaluations). Assuming that his diagnoses are accurate, it would be difficult for a child with a significant impairment in socialization (compounded by the social issues associated with ADHD) to fully process and comprehend the impact of negative social feedback from peers (as stated by Dr. LoSardo "on some level he probably didn't get social significance"). Therefore, this type of event would not be expected to result in PTSD.

Dr. Wiznitzer's testimony is nowhere near as bad as Dr. Antell's... but really.

To the St. Lucie County school board, however, I have only one thing to say.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

On Stereotypes

One of the kindest, most generous people I know is a homosexual, atheistic skeptic. I mention this not because I'm an atheist (I'm not, certain people's claims to the contrary aside) nor because I'm gay (I'm not), nor because I'm a skeptic (this, at least, I am). I mention this because "kind" and "generous" are very much not part of the stereotypes surrounding atheists, homosexuals, or skeptics.

Despite the stereotypes, however, he is all of these things. In fact, the entire list of traits works together quite well: his skepticism, for instance, means that he investigates charities before he gives to them and tries to make sure that his donations actually go to the people he's supposed to be helping. He's skeptical about the charities he donates to precisely because he genuinely cares. I cannot say the same for many people who donate to religious charities, who often care more about appearances or ideology than genuinely helping.

The prevalent stereotypes, however, would pidgeonhole him as the exact opposite of who he is: atheists are often seen as prototypical sinners, untrustworthy and criminal. Skeptics are seen as cynics at best (true skeptics are anything but). Homosexuals... let's not even go there.

Many of the people who know me will know precisely who I am talking about. There is even a possibility that the person I wrote about will read this blog entry some day. I am not, however, writing this to flatter him.

I am writing this to illustrate the point that stereotypes are often misleading. Worse, they are often wrong -- that is, they very often don't even have a genuine basis in fact, but rather are based solely on prejudice or incomprehension.

If this is the case, why do we persist in stereotyping? Especially now, as we're becoming increasingly aware of the manifold harms and errors perpetuated by this sort of thing -- why do it?

The sad truth of the matter is that, as best we can figure it out, stereotyping is the result of normal, adaptive cognitive mechanisms being used in ways that just don't make sense. People, in general, categorize other people in ways that just don't make sense... and then use these categories to reach conclusions that make even less sense.

While I sadly know the answer to why we do it (it's tied up into the normally-adaptive cognitive processes most people rely on to function), the fact of the matter is that we should be smarter than this. We can be smarter than this.

Just question yourself -- repeatedly. Be careful of over-generalization. Realize that in-group differences almost always exceed between-group differences. Keep in mind that people are people, regardless of anything else. Understand that you can misunderstand. Question yourself -- it bears repeating. Understand that statistical significance and practical significance are very different. Realize that "groups" of people -- however they're defined -- are almost always "fuzzy" statistical constructs. Watch out for logical fallacies. Don't expect perfection, mind... but always try to be right.

Friday, August 27, 2010

I Always Want to Be Right (And You Should, Too)

I always want to be right. When I say this, I don't mean that I want to win arguments. That's not being right -- that's having other people tell you you're right. I mean that I want my beliefs to reflect reality. I want all of my beliefs to reflect reality -- if not perfectly, then at least as fully and completely as possible.

I do not want to believe I can fly when I can't. The practical consequences of this are perhaps best described by the term "splat".

I do not want to believe that a cure for cancer works when it doesn't. The practical consequences of this are paid in wasted money and unnecessary side effects. By the same token, however, I don't want to believe that a cure doesn't work when it does. The practical consequences of this are commonly referred to as "dying in horrific agony". Selecting an effective (and helpful) treatment or cure is one of the hardest -- and most important -- parts of medicine.

I do not want reality to conform to my existing beliefs. That idea -- the foolish wishing for what I tend to derisively call "magic god powers" -- may make for a nice fantasy on occasion, but is usually a waste of time. I want my beliefs to conform to reality. I want to believe what is true, not for reality to follow from what I believe.

I do not want others to sit back and say nothing when I express an inaccurate belief. If they do so, I lose the opportunity to correct my beliefs. I fully understand that the price of being right is admitting that you have been wrong. I accept and eagerly pay this price. Metaphorical humble pie may taste awful, but it's very good for you.

I do not want others to hold back in debate. I want to hear the best, most valid arguments that the people I'm debating can put forth -- and I want them to support these arguments as well as they can. I, in turn, will do the same. I will hold my position with the best arguments I can come up with (as the circumstances allow) in hopes of drawing out the best, most thorough counterarguments possible. If I did otherwise, I would deprive myself of evidence and reasoning that could help me develop a better, more informed view of the issue we're debating. If I "win", so be it. If I "lose", so be it. Either way, I'll be using the reasoning and evidence to reevaluate my position... and will very often change it.

Of course, this changing isn't always obvious. I usually reevaluate my position after the debate... and I often play "devil's advocate", offering forth arguments that I don't really believe (but can't easily counter) in order to draw out a precious -- and useful -- counterargument.

I don't want to reach premature final judgment... and my beliefs tend to be more probability estimates regarding the possibility of something being true than actual beliefs that something is true. Truly wanting to be right means being comfortable with the limitations of one's knowledge.

And, in the end, as I reflect on my attitudes and my desire to be right... I can't help but think that the world would be a better place if more people desired to be right, too.

Friday, May 7, 2010

A Recent Assignment

My abnormal psychology class has assigned "critical thinking exercises". In practical terms, this means weekly essays on some topic or another. The first one, which I just turned in, was a response to the question: "What do you feel are the most salient and valid criteria of abnormality? Why?"

While posting this essay, I found several typographical errors that I somehow managed to miss while proofreading it for submission. I've corrected them and added some HTML links to provide explanation and further reference. This said, my essay is as follows:


This is a pretty difficult question for me to answer, mostly because I believe the question itself is both flawed and loaded. To begin with, our textbook grossly misuses the term "abnormal", equating abnormality with dysfunction and defining the term "abnormal behavior" as synonymous with the concept of a psychological disorder (cf. p. 2). In actuality, however, the term "abnormal" simply means "not normal" and is synonymous with the term "atypical". As such, any behavior which differs from the norm is abnormal… and atypicality is the only criterion with any relevance.

While it is possible to argue that our book uses "abnormal" and its derivatives in a special sense, the use of this term in such a fashion is a gross violation of both medial bioethics and clinical ethics in general. Specifically, it violates both the principles of benevolence and non-maleficence through its effects both on informed persons who accept this equation (i.e. students learning from the book) and the effects of regarding this sort of linguistic equivocation as acceptable on society as a whole.

I certainly do not believe in linguistic determinism, but it is very difficult to deny the existence of a relationship between language and thought. How we think affects the sort of language we use, and there is a good bit of evidence that the sort of language we use effects the way we think (e.g. Tan et al., 2008). The existence of several named logical fallacies related to this (e.g. equivocation, amphiboly, fallacy by semantic shift) tends to support this general idea. Given the state of the knowledge in this arena and the precautionary principle, there is an ethical obligation to avoid this sort of issue.

Moreover, there is the matter of laypersons who hear discussions using this sort of misused terminology. It is unlikely that such persons will be aware of the issues surrounding the constructions used, and we live in an era in which the technical literature is becoming increasingly available to such people (as evidenced by publications such as PLoS and the policies of PubMed Central).

Even if the issue of the false equivalency created by this abuse of the English language is ignored, the criteria laid out in the book are problematic on other grounds. Simply put, they have been used to justify outright bigotry and abusive "treatments" which were only "justified" by this bigotry (e.g. Cartwright, 1851; Lovaas, 1987; O'Malley, 1914; Rekers & Lovaas, 1974; Chapter 14 of our book). The use of our book's criteria as sole and sufficient demarcation for what is and isn't a mental disorder is flawed, highly unethical, and not what is actually done in practice.

Furthermore, the entire construct of "mental illness" is of dubious validity and has been extensively challenged (e.g. Szasz, 2008). Even if we can't demonstrate that mental illness objectively exists, however, there remains one potential justification for the use of the concept: utility.

Simply put, we can justify describing something as a mental illness if we can demonstrate that the concept – and the medical-model approach which goes along with it – is useful. Doing so in a clinical environment, however, would require a demonstration of improved patient outcome, and it is very difficult to conduct a rigorous randomized controlled trial of the use of a concept.

Despite this, it is possible to evaluate the consequences of medicalization via the epidemiological evidence and comparing the prognosis of various syndromes in countries that have widespread access to medical treatment for mental illness and those that do not. It is also possible to do this by comparing outcomes across time-periods in a similar fashion.

Scizophrenia is the most "extreme" of the DSM mental disorders, and it is a major mainstay of psychiatry. As such, it makes intuitive sense to begin by evaluating the utility of the concept of a psychological disorder in reference to schizophrenia. Moreover, there exists a single randomized, controlled trial of psychiatry as a whole in the treatment of schizophrenia: the Soteria Project.

None of these approaches yield evidence in favor of the utility of a medical model approach to schizophrenia: World Health Organization data indicates that schizophrenia has better prognosis in developing countries than in developed countries; the best outcomes to be found for the treatment of schizophrenia here in America can be found in those non-medically treated by Quakers in the 19th century; and the findings of the Soteria Project were very much damning in regards to the effects of psychiatric intervention (see Whitaker, 2002 for review).

Or, in other words, the concept has yet to demonstrate utility in regards to treatment. If and when it does, I'll start to consider medical-model approaches ethically justified.

References

Cartwright, S. (1851). Report on the diseases and physical peculiarities of the negro race. New Orleans Medical and Surgical Journal, 7, 691-715.

Lovaas, O. (1987). Behavioral treatment and normal educational and intellectual functioning in young autistic children. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 55, 3-9.

O'Malley, M. (1914). Psychoses in the colored race. American Journal of Insanity, 71, 309-337.

Rekers, G. & Lovaas, O. (1974). Behavioral treatment of deviant sex-role behaviors in a male child. Journal of Applied Behavior Analysis, 7, 173-190.

Szasz, T. (2008). Psychiatry: The Science of Lies. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press.

Tan, L., Chan, A., Kay, P., Khong, P., Yip, L., & Luke, K. (2008). Language affects patterns of brain activation associated with perceptual decision. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 105, 4004-4009.

Whitaker, R. (2002). Mad in America: Bad Science, Bad Medicine, and the Enduring Mistreatment of the Mentally Ill. Cambridge, MA: Perseus Publishing.

Edit: Corrected one more typo...

Friday, October 9, 2009

On "Restricted and Repetitive" interests

Everyone has their hobbies, their interests, and their experiences. These, of course, vary... but their usually is a pattern to them.


And no, I'm not referring to the relationship to one's life story. If that's incorporated, there's always a pattern to them.

This isn't to say, mind, that the pattern is always the same... or even of the same type. Every person has their own pattern of interests.

This pattern says a lot about that person, too... but this isn't really the forum for a discussion of that.


Perhaps more importantly, there's a relationship between components of this pattern. My interest in Japanese langugage, for instance, is strongly related to my interest in Japanese culture. This, in turn, is a portion of my interest in cultural anthropology. My interest in cultural anthropology is a minor focus area within my interest in the scientific study of people. To be more specific, that particular interest extends across psychology, microsociology, and cultural anthropology. How my interests in psychopharmacology and experimental methodology tie into this should be pretty obvious.


The thing is, autistic interests tend to follow generally different patterns than neurotypical interests. The connections (and definitions!) of autistic interests tend to be different as well.


To me, there's an infinite variety in the peer-reviewed literature. By reading through it, I can learn about endless topics, find out all sorts of really neat things... it's like an infinite and ever-expanding cornucopia of knowledge about whatever obscure topic I might want to learn about. I can get lost within that for hours, days... or even weeks.

To someone else, it probably looks like I'm just reading all the time -- a "restricted" and "repetitive" interest. But... what of the main activity of many biblical scholars? What do you call it when they not only read all the time, but read the same book? Similar things can be said of most, if not all, autistic perseverations.

To put it another way, both the degree to which something is "restricted" and the degree to which it is "repetitive" are highly subjective.

Of course, this isn't to say that an unusual pattern of interests doesn't come with its fair share of disadvantages. For instance, someone who loves sports can always find someone to chat with about the latest Cubs game (or whatever). Someone who loves romance novels can usually find someone to ask if they've read any good books lately.

Now... imagine the stares I'd get if I were to just casually ask someone, "Read any good methodology papers lately?"

That is, in my opinion, the largest problem with having a "restricted and repetitive" set of interests.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

"I Am Autism"

Autism Speaks's latest video, "I Am Autism", is the single most offensive thing I've ever seen.

I'm not going to get into the issue of Autism Speaks's history of excluding autistic people, its repeated patronization of us, its... well, you get the idea. I'm just going to confine myself to the video.

I will, however, comment that I think this despite the fact that I grew up in the South Florida Jewish community and have read Mein Kampf in its entirety. I am also quite familiar with the Protocols of the Elders of Zion and have seen a translated brochure for Stalin World. During high school, I made something of a study of Soviet propaganda. Keep this in mind when I say that "I Am Autism" is the most offensive thing I've ever seen. It's that bad.

As I've tried to explain before, you cannot separate autism from autistic individuals. Anything said about autism is said about autistic people. Anything said about autism on a demographic level is said about the existence of us as a group; anything said about autism in a child is said about that child.

The following is, other than some changes in number (I changed a few uses of "I" to "we" for gramatical reasons) identical in meaning to the video. Hopefully, it will make just why the autistic community is so outraged a bit more apparent to anyone reading it:

(In sinister tones)

I am the existence of autistic people.

I am visible among your children, but I am invisible to you until it is too late.

I know where you live -- and guess what? I live there, too.

I hover around all of you. I know no color barrier, no religion, no morality, no currency. I speak your language fluently, and with every voice I take away, I acquire yet another language.

I work very quickly. The existence of autistic people works faster than pediatric AIDS, cancer, and diabetes combined.

And, if you're happily married, I will make sure that your marriage fails. Your money will fall into my hands, and I will bankrupt you for my own self-gain.

I don't sleep, so I'll make sure you don't, either.

Having an autistic child will make it virtually impossible for your family to easily attend a temple, a birthday party, a public park, without a struggle, without embarassment, without pain.

You have no cure for me. Your scientists don't have the resources, and autistic people relish their desperation.

Your neighbors are happier to pretend that I don't exist. Of course, until it's their child who's autistic.

We are autistic people. We have no interest in right or wrong. We derive great pleasure out of your loneliness; we will fight to take away your hope. We will plot to rob you of your children and your dreams. We will make sure that every day you wake up, you will cry, wondering "Who will take care of my child after I die?"

And the truth is, we are still winning and you are scared, and you should be.

I am the existence of autistic people. You ignored me. That was a mistake.



And that's the first half. To try and translate the second, I'd need to change the semantics a bit more. Suffice it to say that it's a determined statement that people are getting together to rip their actual child out of the "shell" that we are.

In other words, it's based on the implicit philosophy that we're not real people and that they need to make us into real people.

Gyah.

Edit: Katie Miller did a brilliant parody of the video here. I'm still laughing.

Friday, September 25, 2009

A Recent E-mail

The following is from a recent e-mail sent in response to an accusation that I lacked empathy after my attempts to explain that anti-autism hate speech is offensive to several curebie parents. I've modified it somewhat (taking out an introductory dependant clause in the first paragraph and removing a parenthetical reference to another list-member) to better fit the format of this blog and to respect the privacy of the individuals involved, respectively.

It's not so much that I'm oblivious to the idea that my words may cause pain as that I view that pain as unavoidable. "Autism" is a description of a set of neurological and psychological differences -- differences in the way our brains work when compared to yours. Setting aside the question of whether or not those differences are deficit-driven and/or pathological, how exactly do you think it makes us feel when our parents say that they hate the way we think and view the world? That is what autism is.

"Love the child, hate the autism" is impossible. You cannot separate the way someone's brain works -- the way they think, the way the feel, the way they remember things, the way they view the world, all of which are described by the reification we call autism -- from who they are.

What's more, children grow up... and an autistic twenty-five-year-old is a very, very different creature from an autistic five-year-old. When your children grow up and view these conversations, how do you think they'll feel, given what I described above? Leaving aside the question of whether or not vaccines "cause autism", how do you think that your children will feel when they see you advising people to risk their child dying rather than growing up to be like them? Is that not saying that a life like theirs is worse than death? How do you think any child would feel, growing up to read their mother's public and published accounts of how raising them was a "nightmare"? We've lived through that.

This, not merely the quackery (although that is awful), is the worst aspect of the whole DAN-and-Generation Rescue phenomenon... and I sincerely doubt that anyone on this list wants their child to go through this sort of pain.

I am painfully aware of what this sort of thing does to a person. I have had the unfortunate experience of seeing people go through this. It is not pleasant. This is a major understatement.

So -- when given the choice of trying to prevent this, and causing pain to parents as they mourn the loss of a "normal" child who was never born, or staying quiet and watching as countless children grow up to experience the same unspeakable heartache that countless friends of ours have lived through... what would you do? When confronted with the memory of someone's tear-filled face as they ask why their (loving, but misguided) parents hate them, what would you do?

(For the record, the last question above is the result of my attempt to translate some of my own experiences into neurotypical terms. Distraught expressions play a role in neurotypical cognition that they do not in most autistics' emotional processes. I've never physically been there when asked that question... but that doesn't matter to me; the emotions would have been exactly the same.)

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Autistic Pride Day

Today is Autistic Pride Day. Frankly, I hadn't planned to really celebrate it -- I have too much on my plate right now to take time off for something like that.

That said, it's certainly been one for the history books.

I woke up and find news of a new study, one which looks like it may be a breakthrough on par with Pasteur's pitri dish when it comes to the education of autistics.

No, this isn't an understatement.

Of course, "may be" is the operative phrase. All I have so far are the mass-media accounts and the article abstract. While Michelle Dawson, one of the study authors, was kind enough to e-mail me the study earlier this afternoon, I haven't read it yet.

Still, hearing about the paper got me excited enough that I missed my exit on the way to my practicum and barely got there on time. I spent most of the day like this, really -- my autistic forgetfulness (for lack of a better term) comes out more when I'm emotional.

My practicum was interesting, but I've been working with NT kids as of late (the children at Baudhuin have been out since the 5th), so I won't discuss that more.

I also went to Nova's medical library to check out a few books for a lit review assignment I'm working on.

Then I drove back to Weston (making a series of forgetful errors on the way, this time due to issues in my personal life), and spent a while searching for florists with specific (and fairly obscure) knowledge.

When I finally got home, I sent out a few e-mails, read a few news stories, recieved the study I mentioned above shortly thereafter, and started preparing for class. While doing the above, I spent a while playing with a hyperactive boxer (who wouldn't leave me alone otherwise) and comforting a three-legged dog who's terrified of thunderstorms.

And then I had a professionalism and ethics class... intended for behavior analysts. Considering how... off... I think our ethics textbook is (it's a future blog entry whenever I get around to writing it), that about speaks for itself.

And I'll be going to bed shortly since I have to get up early tomorrow. Joy.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

And People Forget Bayes Once Again

There's been a lot of psychological research that boils down to one simple statement: people without statistical training don't get Bayes's Theorem... and even people with statistical training tend to ignore its implications in day-to-day life. Put another way, people ignore base-rate data when evaluating probability.

I was reminded rather strongly of this by a comment on Natural Variation. To wit:

"There's probably no genotype that exactly matches what we call autism. But the phenotype is highly heritable, apparently, so in principle it should be possible to find a genotype->phenotype mapping that is more convincing, e.g. 60% matches and 5% false positives. When they come up with a gap of this size, they'll probably start seriously talking about genetic screening."

If we develop a prenatal test that correctly identifies autistic children 60% of the time and delivers a false positive 5% of the time, what are the odds of a foetus developing into an autistic child given that the test returned a positive?

If you ask most people, they'd scratch their heads in confusion. Many would settle on 95%, some would settle on 60%, and a few would answer with a figure slightly over 92% (60% divided by the sum of 60% and 5%, or 60/65).

The actual answer, however, is none of these... for the simple reason that there are a lot more non-autistic children than autistic children. That five percent would be effectively multiplied by all of the non-autistic children it was used to test.

That answer depends highly on prevalance estimates, but let's not go there. For the sake of simplicity, I'm going to use the popularized 1/150 figure. Suffice it to say, however, that the prevalence of autism depends on how you define the word "autism"... and a lot of other things.

This gives us:
  • P(A), or the probability of a foetus developing into an autistic child without testing, as 1/150, or about .6%.
  • P(A'), or the probability of a foetus developing into a non-autistic child without testing, as 149/150, or about 99.3%.
  • P(BA), or the probability of an autistic foetus getting a positive test result, as 60%.
  • P(BA'), or the probability of a non-autistic foetus getting a positive test result, as 5%.
  • P(B), or the probability of a randomly-selected foetus, autistic or not, getting a positive test result. This can be calculated from the above, as P(BA)P(A)+P(BA')P(A'). Doing the math, this works out to 161/3000, or about 5.37%.

Given that last figure, you should see where this is going.

In the end, the probability of a positive result on the test above correctly indicating an autistic child is a spectacular 12/161... or about 7.5%. The other 92.5% of the time... the test would be indicating that a non-autistic child is autistic.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Why I rarely write the way I think

My writings on this blog are rarely my actual thoughts. Oh, they share some parallels, but my experience has been that very few people understand me when I say what I'm actually thinking. I usually have to oversimplify a bit and find an efficient way to shoehorn them into the English language. I could, of course, simply translate, but that introduces its own share of problems.

To illustrate this, I'm going to write down a fairly simple thought in three ways. One is as close as I can approximate my actual thought processes in writing. Another is as close as I can approximate in English. The third is the way I would usually write it.

And if anyone can help me figure out why the formatting keeps getting shot to Hell, it would be greatly appreciated.

Way One

fisherman.OnCatch(tuna)
{
int tuna.centVal = val(tuna, fresh);
while(tuna.sold != 0)
{
wait(about one minute);
tuna.centVal *= (1 - percentLoss);
}
}

Way Two

The value of a caught tuna approaches zero with the passage of time, following a progression that approximates a hyperbola (the limit of the value as the time from catch approaches infinity being zero) that is implemented starting the moment it is caught and compounded approximately every minute.

Way Three

The value of a tuna decreases for every minute that passes between when the fisherman catches it and when he sells it.