He divided the physics class up into the "scientific track" and the "non-scientific track." The scientific
track included the handful of kids who would actually use physics in later life, including me. The "non-scientific track" included the other >75% of the class. He clearly put much more time into the non-scientific track: he gave us well-prepared, organized lectures on physics (specifically, kinematics) only twice during the entire school year. We did not cover electricity at all. This put me at a serious disadvantage the next year, when I was taking introductory, calculus-based university physics.
One of the more useful things we did all year was involving all the kids in a debate about whether there should be a ten-year moratorium on the construction of new civilian nuclear plants. It's funny to realize it, too, but in real life, he got over five times longer than he asked for: the first new civilian nuclear power plants in the U.S. ordered since the Three Mile Island accident are under construction now.
And yet, at my 40th reunion, he was remembered very fondly. One of my friends (who despite having been on the scientific track with me has had a prosperous career as a lawyer) even had a copy of the long poem that mentions everyone in the class one-by-one, which he wrote at the end of the year. My friend said of it, "Look at the time he must have spent!" I had to bite my tongue not to blurt out, "I sure wish he'd spent that time teaching us physics!" Aside from this and the nuclear-power debate, the main thing anyone else remembered was the goofing off.
And yet, I was the only kid in the class to go on to major in physics in college. I was one of two in the history of the school to have gotten a Ph.D. in the subject. After all, most of his students benefited more than if he'd taught us all physics, any of which only two of us would ever have remembered.
So, the question is: Was he right, to have served his students in this manner?
While contemplating that, here's another, similar conundrum:
Yerkes Observatory became operational in 1897. When it was built, its 40-inch refracting telescope was the largest telescope in the world. The 40-inch is still the largest refracting telescope in the world: all subsequent largr telescopes have been reflecting telescopes. It was also the last time the largest telescope in the world was built on an essentially sea-level site, since all the subsequent largest telescopes in the world were built on mountaintops.
When opened, Yerkes was without question a state-of-the-art facility. Edwin Frost became director in 1905, and retired in 1932. During this time, he essentially turned the observatory into a country club, with lots of social activities for the staff and their families, but falling away from the forefront of science. Only when Otto Struve became director in 1932 did he turn it back into the scientific powerhouse it was intended to be.
Struve was one of the great builders in the history of astronomy. He founded McDonald Observatory in Texas, building the second-largest telescope in the world in 1939. He founded the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in 1956. He then built up the astronomy department at UC Berkeley into the top place it still is today.
When Frost died, he was well-loved, surrounded by family and friends. When Struve died, he did so alone in a hospital room in Berkeley. While people do refer to Struve as "a great man," I don't think I've ever heard anyone call him a friend.
So, here's another question: Who led the better life: Edwin Frost or Otto Struve?
--Froderick Frankenstien from Fresno
Great question, Frod! I wonder if Struve was alone at his death because his family was a long distance away and he died quickly or if he didn't have family (or if he alienated them).
ReplyDeleteIt appears that Frost - and your high school physics teacher - really wanted to be adored by all around them. When high school teachers are evaluated, I think the main issue is whether they're "nice" or not. Certainly, it's different in college and in industry.
Do we define "better life" by how much we're loved or how much we've accomplished in our professions. Frost and Struve are certainly at opposite ends here. When famed fund manager Peter Lynch retired, he said "No one ever was on their death bed saying they wished they spent more time at the office."
Personally, I wouldn't want to be on either tail of the distribution. If you held a gun to my to pick one, I'd rather be Frost. If people remember me fondly, chances are I was a good person and left the world a bit better than I found it. If no one cares I'm gone, I probably didn't.
As a former instructor of BC Eagles, I hope your time on the Heights helped prepare you to answer questions about the well-lived life, friend above!
ReplyDeleteMany of us who have to teach students who are required to be there--in high school but also in required college courses--struggle with the same dichotomy. Are we focused on prepping one or two majors per year, one or two future Ph.Ds every four, or are we trying to give something to everyone?
Ideally for me, an instructor in such a position would be able to give every student some level of basic literacy (for lack of a better term) in their field. If that's not an option for whatever reason, being a role model of someone who is simultaneously an intellectual and cares about you (yes, you, student) seems like it would go a long way to eroding any resentment those students may have been taught about those of us who dare claim to be experts.
For the first question:
ReplyDeleteThe problem wasn't that your teacher didn't teach the future scientists; it's that he did so without effectively teaching anyone else in the class anything either. Being beloved by students does NOT help them. It's not an educational accomplishment.
If he had routinely challenged them and helped them understand important things, then he would have been an effective teacher. If he had challenged you and helped you understand important things then he would been a different kind of effective teacher.
Doing neither was just a waste of time for everyone. Better to give the students a free period.
Too too many high school physics teachers are exactly like that..
The second question is unanswerable without stating the major premise that could lead to each conclusion. So, "the best life is one filled with friends and love and leaving tenderness behind" leads to one conclusion while "Advancing knowledge for the sake of one's profession and humankind" leads to the other. I think the premise of what makes for a good,or "better" life will vary, and these are just two of the premises on which one could proceed.
ReplyDeleteI guess cutting against Frost is that he seems not to have committed himself to what he pledged to. In that sense, it's a betrayal, and he needn't have assumed a position with that responsibility. Perhaps that's where a moral judgment as to what's "better" can come into play.
Now, that spills onto the physics teacher. I think there's a baseline responsibility to help students as far as their ability and inclination will take them. He clearly didn't substantially improve your ability. Your inclination was already given.As for the others, the ability would typically have been a lot less than your own, but he did not enough to improve their inclination and therefore did not enough to improve ability. Apparently, the nuclear power debate was memorable,so he did something of value, but again, not enough.