Rob St. Amant

Rob St. Amant
Birthday
December 31
Bio
My roots are in San Francisco and later Baltimore, where I went to high school and college. I stayed on the move, living for a while in Texas, several years in a small town in Germany, and then several more in Massachusetts, working on a Ph.D. in computer science. I'm now a professor at North Carolina State University, in Raleigh. My book, Computing for Ordinary Mortals, will appear this fall. www.amazon.com/author/robertstamant

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SEPTEMBER 19, 2010 12:07PM

Hide-and-seek

Rate: 23 Flag

Yesterday afternoon I went to a birthday party, where I played  hide-and-seek with the hosts' four-year-old little girl, L. It reminded me of the work of my friend Greg, a cognitive scientist who has used hide-and-seek as a task in some of his case studies [PDF]. (Long-time readers of this blog know that I go meta at the slightest provocation, even in very ordinary situations.)

 Why aren't young children very good at playing hide-and-seek? There are several reasons. For one, young children don't yet understand some basic spatial relationships. Have you ever seen children pour water betwen cups of different sizes in the bathtub? They're learning about relationships between shape and volume, and it's not always obvious to them that a tall thin container might hold less than a short fat one. Concealment means hiding behind or under or inside of something, concepts that are still a bit mysterious. More importantly, young children don't yet understand how to take someone else's perspective. In some situations, they'll automatically assume that what they see or know is the same as what others see or know.

Greg gives a nice example that will probably be familiar to most parents: In the first game of hide-and-seek, his "subject" (a three-year-old girl) found a hiding place by going into the next room and closing her eyes. (I hope the perspective-taking problem is obvious here.) My friend L. has gone beyond this stage but not very far: Before I finished counting to ten, facing a tree in the backyard, she shouted out, "I'm ready! Come find me!" while standing next to the nearest shrub. She continued to offer helpful advice ("I'm not there!") as I searched other nearby hiding places.

Like Greg, I decided to offer some strategic advice. "Hide somewhere I can't see you." This worked a bit better: She moved farther away, though still remaining in sight. Eventually L. chose a better hiding place, between two large bushes, where I couldn't see her when I finished counting by the tree. She still has some progress to make, though; it was only a matter of walking across the yard to find her. I suspect that L. hasn't yet figured out that you need a large, opaque object between two people for one to be concealed from the other. (Greg gives another funny example of his subject hiding underneath a glass coffee table.) I also suspect that L. may believe that a hiding place is good if she can't be seen from It's initial location, without considering that It will move later. I'm not worried--she'll figure it all out pretty quickly with experience.

So we had fun, the little girl playing hide-and-seek, the bigger guy playing hide-and-seek while thinking about cognitive development. And then we ate cake. 

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I sucked at hide-and-seek when I was a kid, but I was a whiz at explaining quantum theory. Go figure.
It's your metaness that makes you so lovable. The last line took my mind somewhere else... you know?
interesting. you can go meta any time you darn well please. love it.
John, we all have our talents. It's not your fault that we don't play hide-and-seek as subatomic particles moving at the speed of light--you'd have been great in that case.

Thanks, Gabby. In my last line I meant to bring us back to the real world.

Hi, Bernadine. It's a blessing and a curse, as they say. :-)
That's a cute story with a take many of us would not consider (as usual for you Rob). I don't play Hide and Seek with children because I fear they will hide someplace dangerous where I cannot find them - as I did once as a child. I tried to play once while babysitting and was thrown into a panic after 30 seconds of looking. I'm sure that's good psychological fodder too! An irrational fear of hide and seek.
wonderful

small children can be terrific teachers
Rob,
You simply think on more than one level at a time. Admirable. You can still have childlike fun while cognating.
I bet you can't guess who made this comment!
I'm not saying...
That's funny, Kelly. I should say that my wife was watching the whole time, just in case L. ran off too far. One factor I've left out of my story is social attachment--L. could have been concerned that I might give up on the game without telling her, distracted by something as unimportant as adult conversation, and so she made an effort to keep me engaged. I have to say that it worked.

I agree, Roy. There's lots to be learned from children.

Thanks for visiting, Julie and Paul. Stephanie, it's just one of those things...
As a teacher, being slapped with cognitive development theories until I am dead on the ground, I so understand this.
Loved this post, loved the last lines.
But why she kept offering advice?
Because part of the fun is getting caught.
This takes me back to night-time neighborhood hide-and-seek with grade school kids....it's easier to hide in the dark....love the perspective with child development!
I like the thinking, both yours and the kids. I especially enjoyed the one who went into the next room and closed her eyes. How great is that? Kids do not have that clear of a vision between reality and fantasy. We all know this with younger ones but the line does not become clear until about age ten, fourth grade or so. I was teaching at that level and had my wife come in with her spinning wheel with white makeup and dressed in an old costume. She told stories while she demonstrated how to spin wool as the kids watched. The comments at recess were precious. There was a grand debate about if she was really a ghost or not. And they were serious. Never forgot that.
Exactly, Vanessa! Sometimes as an adult I forget the point of some games, which is to have fun (even if being caught in hide-and-seek means "losing").

Thanks, C Berg. I have good memories, too, of playing hide-and-seek in the dark, even if we called it "Detectives". My wife says she played it with flashlights and she and her friends called it "Martians".

Thanks for the story, Dr.Spudman! It's so tempting to think of children as miniature adults, but they're completely different creatures.
Rob, this is a charming post and a fine explanation on the troubles kids have in hiding..yes, they do suck at hide-and-seek. It is interesting to see the light go on in their little faces when it is explained to them why they are still visible. When we mimick their behavior, we are usually hit with: "I see you silly!"
Very interesting read. I hadn't dealt with little children for a while, but this all makes sense to me from my university studies. What kind of cake was it? ~R
That's funny, Gary--I hadn't thought of presenting a learning experience in that way. That may be the most compelling way to do it. (And that's not really a frivolous direction to think in--Greg, whom I mentioned in my post, is interested in building robots that learn in the same way children do, so that could be a pretty fruitful idea.)

Hi, FusunA. It was a rich layered chocolate cake, with raspberry inside. It was decorated with a tropical island motif, including brown sugar for sand. Entertaining and delicious. :-)
Yes, it takes a while to learn things. And we often learn them wrong. A favorite experiment of mine, easy to do over dinner or at a bar, shows people think pi is somewhere between 2 and 3, often closer to 2. I don't know where I learned this, but it's often true: Point to a glass and ask someone if the glass is taller or farther around. People will quite often guess taller, though that's rarely the case except for the very thinnest champagne flutes. They're usually shocked by how much bigger around it is than high. You can get a napkin, wrap it around the glass at the rim and then stretch it out to show them the diameter. It will usually exceed by 50% the height of the glass, hence my claim they think pi is 2. Thinking about this, I assume it's because they know that going around a lake, let's say, is at least twice as long as walking straight across it if it were frozen. So they know it can't be less than 2. And they probably think it's a little longer than going straight. But they have so little experience with how much longer that they never really get a very refined model beyond that. It's just not needed.
That's very interesting, Kent--I see myself getting a few free drinks in the near future... :-)

I didn't know about this misconception, but I know of others, some of which are associated with the idea of cognitive biases. With respect to physics, for example, even adults find it hard to apply Newton's laws. In one study I've read, college students were asked to draw the path of a baseball when it leaves a spiral-shaped chute: the students tended to draw a line that continued the spiral. In another study by the same authors (whose names I've forgotten, though I could look them up), a good number of students, when asked about the path of an object falling from an airplane, drew a straight diagonal line; some even drew a vertical line directly downward. It's amazing to me how we can get by in the world with intuitions that are so far off the mark.

I've sometimes thought about the possibility of building AI agents that would "live" in a physics simulation and try to induce physical laws. Would their findings be closer to Aristotle or Newton? This would make for an interesting Ph.D. dissertation, I think, but I've had no takers yet.
Rob, I think the problem with AI experiments like that is that the genesis of those system is different than ours. That is, ironically, the robots are likely to behave more like someone created, say, 5000 years ago for the purpose we're now used for. The people, having evolved over millions of years, did it slowly and by the robust but obscure priorities that evolution teaches. And in the latter case, that means that I think the dominant issue is budget: How much is it worth to have a better model than what we have. Our model, after all, is almost surely not based on math. It's more likely based on the strangeness of neural nets, trying to find any approximation that is suitable to the purpose, and that may be something that's only a very crude approximation, based on the theory that you don't have to run faster than the tiger, just faster than your friend who is also running from the tiger. Nature knows how to prioritize in ways we just don't. So when you do an AI experiment in isolation, you can probably afford budget so extraordinarily more than what evolution ever was able to, you end up with a different outcome. Nature was worried about optimizing so many zillion things at once, and what is amazing is not that we do so poorly at that but that we do so amazingly at so many things that this is just one of myriad at which we do passably.
To clarify what I mean by that, not only do people manage to do this particular problem, but they also can, for example, recover from a flu they have never seen before. That's what I mean about budget. I bet your PhD student won't be asked to emulate the flu in doing the comparison. It would probably be too expensive. And yet people have so many amazing qualities, many of them utterly unknown until they come up. Balance, planning, language, humor, emotion, complex social behavior, adaptation to climate and diet, ... The number of things where physics needs to be are small.

At MIT they used to have an annual pumpkin drop off the tallest building, 17 floors. It was odd to watch because I realized I almost never see anything in my life that actually accelerates (maybe a car, I mean, but mostly things are, to close approximation, not really changing velocity). I recall the way my mind perceived it was "It's falling. It's falling faster. It's falling faster still. It's done." About three steps. It was weird and over almost instantly. But most things just come at constant velocity. So who would ever guess there was acceleration due to gravity. Surely nature has no reason to ever evolve such knowledge. I'm sure an acceleration-free model suffices for survival. And so it goes...
You didn't hide very well -- I saw all the political undertones in this piece quite clearly. Here I come -- ready or not!

You said: "I'm not worried--she'll figure it all out pretty quickly with experience."

Don't be so sure, as proof, I offer Kindergarten Kristians who never get past the dogma they were taught at five. As further proof, I offer Baggers, Beckers, Birthers and Birchers who will believe anything without proof -- if it's absurd enough.

Okay -- you're it!!
Hey, Lisa, cake is critical.

Kent, you make a few good points about the difficulties of AI research: we can't account for all the factors that could possibly influence thought and behavior; the cognitive mechanisms we fiddle with are only the barest approximations to their biological counterparts; artificial intelligence, such as it is, often arises from processes that aren't found in nature. (I'm painting with a broad brush here, because people working in evolutionary computing, artificial life, and other areas could easily argue with me.)

One approach we've taken in my lab is to try to identify a behavior or capacity that seems to be generally useful in people or animals, build a working computational model of it, and see how far it extends. Sometimes this has been successful, other times not. We'll keep trying...

Tom, thanks for dragging this piece back on track into the world of politics! :-)

Thanks for visiting, Lainey.
I was hiding elsewhere yesterday. Glad I found this.