Seeing math with Desmos

By Herman M. Lagon

The online Swapcard room was quiet—but not the minds in it. At STEP Conference 2025 last Friday, July 18, inside a humble but buzzing concurrent session sponsored by Ateneo de Davao University, I presented my research entitled “Drawing Understanding: A Phenomenological Study on Pre-Service Teachers’ Experiences with Desmos in Analytic Geometry” online, while in the lobby of Planta Centro in Bacolod City. The title sounded technical, yes, but at the heart of the presentation was a story: how a handful of students once paralyzed by parabolas and hyperbolas found themselves drawing understanding—and confidence—on a graphing interface.

But the session, sadly, was cut short by a technical glitch. What made this even more regrettable was that it was not just a lecture—it had evolved into a meaningful roundtable exchange, albeit online, with fellow math teachers, coordinators, and subject heads. Since only a few caught it live, I am writing this piece to share what we started—to give space to the questions and reflections many teachers might also be asking. Though centered on Desmos, the free graphing calculator app retrievable at https://www.desmos.com/, this is not just about one tool. It stands for a whole new generation of digital applications—equally free and online—that today’s tech-savvy students and brave teachers can harness for deeper learning.

One question went straight for the core: does Desmos align—or clash—with traditional math assessments? The answer is complicated. Desmos celebrates process over product. It invites students to tweak, test, and explore. But our current system still prizes the final answer, timed drills, and rote memorization. Here lies the tension: we teach for understanding but test for recall. One student from my study—let’s call her Echo—aced traditional quizzes but struggled when asked to “play” with Desmos. She was smart but untrained in explaining why a curve moved the way it did. Desmos did not just check her answers; it checked her thinking.

The second online question needed courage to ask: is Desmos inclusive, or does it favor the digitally fluent? The truth? It depends. Desmos, like many other digital learning applications, works best when students already know how to navigate tech. For those unfamiliar with sliders or struggling with poor connectivity, it can frustrate more than facilitate. Students with visual impairments need further support. It is worth noting that edtech is not a magic fix; it needs equity scaffolds. I recall one student from a remote barangay in Barotac Nuevo who stayed late on campus just to access Desmos. Another took three tries to grasp the interface. Without proper orientation, Desmos can unintentionally widen gaps it hopes to close.

The third question in the STEP 2025 concurrent session hit a nerve: Are we making Desmos-dependent learners? A fair concern. In a world already Google-addicted, are we replacing deep reasoning with button-pushing? Balance is key. Desmos is a flashlight, not a crutch. It illuminates concepts but should not replace mental math. In my own class, a student—let us call her Beta—learned to predict graph transformations mentally before plotting them. Desmos became her rehearsal studio, not her shortcut.

Next came the most powerful question: how did Desmos change the way students “saw” math? And is seeing enough? For many, seeing was the spark. Sliders, symmetry, and motion demystified abstract formulas. But it did not stop there. Learning deepened when they reflected, explained, and even failed. As Fabian et al. (2016) note, the magic of digital tools is not just their visuals—it is in the thinking they ignite. One student, Foxtrot, once wrote, “I saw the ellipse, then I understood its parts, then I taught it to someone else.” That’s growth—from passive to active, from visual to verbal.

The most unexpected question lingered long after: Can Desmos shape a future teacher’s identity? Or is identity shaped by experience, not tools? I think it’s both. Desmos was not a wand—it was a mirror. It let students see themselves teaching math confidently. One student, Charlie, even built his own interactive slides post-semester. “I want my future students to feel what I felt,” he said. That shift—from learner to future educator—is a quiet revolution.

Our session facilitator, ADDU Grade 5 English teacher Lorie Gomez-Mamburam, said it best: Desmos is not just a digital tool. It makes math visual, collaborative, and yes, finally joyful. It helps learners see math not as a threat, but as a shared discovery. Her comment reflected a wish many parents and teachers share—that kids would not just survive math, but enjoy it.

Of course, we must keep it real. Desmos, like many other digital platforms, will not fix poor lesson plans, outdated content, or deep-rooted inequalities. It does not replace heart, mentoring, or mastery. But in the hands of teachers who dare and students who try, it can spark change. It will not scream in metrics or rankings, but you will hear it in the quiet confidence of learners and the curiosity in their questions.

What struck me about STEP 2025 was that it did not end with answers. It ended with questions—better ones. And that might be the best gift any teacher can take home. The kind of question that travels with you: into the classroom, into your LMS, into a tough Monday lesson plan. And like a Desmos graph, it stays open to adjustment, iteration, and insight.

Having returned to full-time teaching after years of school administration, I have come to believe the real breakthroughs in education morerelational, than technical. That moment when a student says, “I get it”—not because you repeated the formula, but because the learning finally made sense—those are the moments we live for. Desmos, when used wisely and fairly, helps create those moments.

The questions raised by the participants during that brief hybrid concurrent session will stay with me. They are not burdens—they are beacons. Because sometimes, the moment we think we have solved the equation, a better question comes along. And that curve? It might just be the beginning of something beautiful to see.

***

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.