Monday, June 30, 2014

Basic Physics: Editorial Consortium

The next promised post on trigonometry is in the final polishing stages, but in the meantime I would like a post to mention several people who have graciously agreed to help me in this endeavor to bring the first year of a physics majors schooling in physics to a non-math, non-science types audience.

 I know full well that as a grad student in physics I am a very bad judge of what is and isn't understood or common knowledge. Teaching has helped rein me in enormously, but my students are assumed to have at least basic calculus knowledge. So I anticipated myself having a problem recognizing what needed more explanation, what was over-explained or even patronizing. I don't want to be the detective novel criminal who spells all the easy words wrong and all the hard words right (in reverse, kinda). Dear Husband, my usual editor, is too well versed in math to much use in this particular arena, so I reached out to some other family members, specifically my mother, my sister, and my brother, to help make sure I do this right. I asked them to do this because each of them brings something that I felt I really needed on what I am dubbing my Editorial Consortium.

My mother is in the demographic group, you might say, that always gives me deer-in-the-headlights or horrified looks when I say I do physics and protest it was too hard for them. Though very talented, she has not directed her talents in a STEM field direction. She is, however, the only reason that I can do long multiplication or division and light years ahead of me in mental arithmetic (also cooking, social skills, language, and checkbook balancing). She is also a natural copyeditor of high standards who is not shy of letting me know when I have fallen short of the mark.

My sister, hereafter to be referred to as Sylvia, Historian Extraordinaire, just graduated college with an absurd amount of honors with a major in History and a minor in French, her thesis work (yes, thesis for undergrad) being on Dorothy L. Sayers. She has a good math background, but hasn't used it much, having no call to do calculus as a literary historian. Her one and only basic physics class was the same one in high school that inspired me to physics. She is also representing a group that I want to reach--younger adults--and she would know if a reference is too obscure. She is also incredible at calling me out for being obtuse and/or patronising.

Last, but not least, is my brother, who will start high school in the fall. I included him for three reasons. First of all, he has had all of the math that I claim is required to understand the blog, but has never taken a physics class in his life. He's interested in the sciences, but he is yet untainted by misconception and bad teaching (other than my own). Second of all, it turns out he inherited Mother's copy editing skills and is very good at noting my inconsistent use of single and double quotation marks. Thirdly, I'm curious if the explanations are clear enough for younger persons who might be interested, but don't have much of a background. The flip side of my mother, so to speak.

They have all agreed to read, edit and comment every post that I write in this series. Between them all I think there is a fair shot that I will do what I set out to do. But I won't know if I am actually succeeding unless you, the reader, let's me know. You are the other part of this Editorial Consortium. If something is not clear, if I mess something up or forget something or just plain gloss over with the hated "the reader can obviously see", let me know! There is a comments link below each post. I'd love your feedback.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Basic Physics Part 0, Section 0: Algebra

[This post is the first in a series intending to teach basic physics concepts in a blog format.]

As I mentioned in my introductory post, math is the language of physics. Physics cannot realistically be understood or done without math. While advanced physics requires some advanced math, basic first-year type physics requires some relatively basic math and math concepts. The first math topic that I want to cover is one that everyone who graduated high school should have covered at some point: algebra. 

Algebra has a kind of strange reputation. Among STEM people, it's the boring math that you needed to do to do the REAL math, or at least the non-boring stuff. It carries the same emotional connotations as diagramming sentences. Among non-STEM people, it's the boring math that they forced you to do and you never ever used again.

Until I really got into teaching and my research, I was mostly of the opinion that algebra was best left to machines. It was tedious and beneath my dignity to spend hours and pages rearranging symbols. When I started teaching, I began to understand the subtle power of algebra to make or break a solution. When I finally started to understand my research, I saw not only its power, but its beauty. Algebra is a tool that allows order to arise out of chaos.

To do the kind of physics this series is going to look at, you really only need 2 major algebra skills: the FOIL method, and some equation manipulation skills. The quadratic equation can come in handy, but that is one time that I am ok using a math program for because it doesn't pop up as frequently.

But before we get to that, I think some terminology definition is in order. When I speak of a "variable" I am referring to a symbol that can take on any value on the real number line (i.e., any where between negative infinity and infinity) within the confines of the equation and/or is the quantity we are solving for. A coefficient is a symbol that has a fixed value for that particular problem. Most physics texts I've seen and used have the convention that any letter from p-z can be used as a variable, while letters a-m are used as coefficients. The letter 'n' is a special case because it is typically used for integer numbers only. The letter 'd' is sometimes used as a variable because it's just so convenient to use it to stand for 'distance'. The letter 'o' is never used, because in handwritten notes it can all too easily look like a zero. A constant, for our purposes, is a symbol that has a fixed value that does not change from problem to problem. For example, \( \pi = 3.14159...\) no matter what problem we are doing. A 'term' is a catchall, just denoting that a symbol stands for something, without specifying type.

Now, on to algebra!

FOIL Method

The FOIL method (First Outside Inside Last) is one of the first things I was taught in algebra class, way back in 7th grade. It's basically a method for multiplying mathematical expressions together in a way that doesn't let you double multiply or leave something out.  If you are multiplying just two terms together, say \(a\) and \(b\), its easy to know when you got it all.
$$ (a)(b)  = ab$$
But what if you don't have just two items, but two expressions, \( (a+b) \) and \( (c+d) \) ? FOILing the two expressions makes sure you do all available multiplications without double counting.  You multiply the first terms from each expression, here \( a \) and \( c \), then the outside ones, here \( a\) and \( d\). Then you do the inner ones, \( b\) and \( c\), and the last ones from each expression, \( b\) and \( d\). Thus
$$ (a+b)(c+d) = ac + ad + bc + bd $$
This method can be logically extended to cover expressions with more than two terms, with the corresponding result being proportionately longer.

When I first learned this, it seemed incredibly useless. Why on earth would I need such a simple method? The answer is 'everywhere in physics'. From the simplest two-body problems to the most complex problems I've worked on for research, FOILing turns up again and again and again. Becoming not just  proficient, but a master at this technique has been crucial to my work. It is something that my students consistently underestimate, to their detriment, every semester.

Manipulating Equations

This isn't so much a single method as the Rules of Engagement for math. Equations are pretty flexible, but there are some rules. The underlying principle to these rules is that you have to do the same thing to each side of the equation, and you have to do it to everything on each side. For example, lets say we have this equation $$ 5 x + 2 y = 6, $$ and we want to solve for \( y\). We can start by subtracting \( 5x\) from each side like this $$ 5x + 2y - 5x = 6 - 5x$$ where you can see we have explicitly taken \( 5x\) from each side and thus have not changed the equation. By adding the same thing to both sides, we have effectively added zero, just like if you add a one pound weight to either side of a balance scale, it won't change position.  So now we have the equation $$ 2y = 6 - 5x,$$ but we still have not completely isolated \( y \). So now we have to divide both sides by 2, which is the coefficient of the variable \( y\). $$ \frac{2y}{2} = \frac{6 - 5x}{2}$$ Again, it is important to note that we have done exactly the same thing to both sides of the equation and in the case of division or multiplication we have applied that change to every term. $$y = \frac{6}{2} - \frac{5 x}{2}$$ $$ y = 3- \frac{5}{2}x$$ is the correct solution in this case. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT make the mistake I see so often, which is to only apply the division to one (usually convenient) term. The following 'solution' is wrong for this problem: \( y = 3- 5x\)

In certain cases, this also involves remembering the Order of Operations: Parentheses, Exponents, Multiplication, Division, Addition, Subtraction. The Multiplication/Division and Addition/Subtraction orders are less critical, since they are just two sides of the same coin. Division is the same as multiplying by a fraction, subtraction is the same as adding a negative number. But the parentheses-> exponents->multiplication/division->addition/subtraction ordering is inviolate. It is impossible, outside of sheer fluke, to get a correct answer if you do not abide by this rule.

And that's the basics of algebra that you may have forgotten  (accidentally or on purpose) that you need for physics, other than the kind that you, honestly, do intuitively. Next week, we'll cover some basic trig[onometry] that everyone should know.


Basic Physics: Introduction

I have done a few introductory physics posts in the past, but I have never been happy enough with them to continue them as a series. After writing my post yesterday on the problems with science communication, I have thought more deeply about why I wasn't happy with them. I've decided that I didn't like them because they weren't able to adequately explain what I wanted to convey. This is mostly my limitations, but also because I hadn't set in my mind who my audience was, and because I had never done posts that explained what I understood to be background material to the topics.

So, I am going to try again in a more cohesive manner. By which I mean that I am going to do a year-long series of blog posts that roughly coincide with what physics majors (and engineers, and other interested parties) learn in their first year, covering basic classical mechanics, electrostatics, magnetostatics and circuitry.

Why? Why would I do this? First of all, I think it will be good practice for when I (fingers crossed) become a professor. I have mostly been working off of the curricula and methods of other professors--I would like to find my own. Secondly, I want to show that physics isn't "hard". Nearly every time I mention that I do physics for a living, I hear the same story--the person I'm talking to either took it in high school and did miserably, thus putting them off the whole thing, or they never took it because they were never any good at that brainy stuff. I want to write a series that, even if it doesn't make physics converts, gives people the confidence that they understand key physics concepts, and maybe understand why physics geeks geek out over physics.

To that end, I am going to be writing for people who have never taken a physics class, but who have some basic math background. I am going to assume a high school level of education, though even that seems to be a somewhat variable standard anymore. I am not going to hold back on "vocabulary words" as my students put it, because it's a blog and you have instant access to a dictionary, but I will explain any technical terms or words that are used in a manner different from their colloquial usage.

To start out with, I am going to do a series of crash-course algebra, trig, vectors, and calculus, so that we have a common math starting point, and a kind of reference guide. Math is the language of physics and it is very hard to really understand what physics is without being able to speak about it using math. Otherwise you kind of end up with something more like Aristotle's physics than Newton's, simply because it is very difficult to describe it using just words.

Then there will be a longish series on basic classical mechanics, which is the one physics topic most people can grasp with at least a bit of intuition. We have all thrown balls, used a seesaw, and spun in an office chair. It will cover more or less the same material you would see in first semester physics class.

The last part will be on what I have taught for 5 semesters now--introductory electromagnetism, or Intro E&M. This will cover basic electrostatic forces/fields, currents, simple circuitry and basic magnetism.

I'm going to try to stick to a schedule of posting one a week, again, roughly like it would be in a classroom setting. This will also give me enough time (hopefully) to properly proof read them and weed out errors.

So, without further ado, on to Part 0, Section 0: Algebra!


Monday, June 23, 2014

The problem with science communication

As a break from everything else that's been going on lately, I've been reading/watching a variety of what could be largely lumped as "science communication" blogs/videos. While I've been doing so, I of course have run across the odd "why do science communication?" post. The answers usually boil down to geekery ("because science is so cool and people should know it"), political ("If everyone were more science literate, they would vote X"), or humanitarian ("if people understood [this], they wouldn't be hurt by [that] or taken in by charlatans"). These are  by no means bad motives for doing these things. And I utterly agree that science communication is a critical activity in our day and age.

But, why? Why is science so hard to communicate that we need not only institutionalized communication (e.g. science class), but grassroots efforts, from blogs to podcasts to videos to local science festivals? Humans have been communicating stuff to each other for centuries. We have developed a wide variety of methods and tools for convincing people of things. Heck, we have a whole industry dedicated to it (advertising). Why does science communication seem so hard to do sometimes?

First, there is the sheer logistical reality of it. The better you understand a topic, let's say optics since I know that one, the deeper you've gone into it and the more that subject and it's prerequisites have become second nature to you. You now now Maxwell's equations almost instinctually. You have a gut reaction when you see velocities faster than \( 3*10^8 \ . You either stopped asking what was waving or have dug really deep into it, but either way you probably can't explain it in 100 words or less to the average person on the street.  On the other hand, the less you know the topic, the easier it is to explain at your level of understanding to someone who doesn't know much or anything, because you remember being in that state.

I have slowly started to realize this as I've been teaching problem solving sessions for the past five semesters. When I started out, I was not remotely confident in the topic. I had taken a few courses beyond the level I was teaching, but I knew I didn't really *know*, in the sense of understanding and internalizing, even basic electromagnetism. My algebra/calculus was shaky because I didn't do it all day, everyday, and hadn't really touched it in 8 months (I took some time off between undergrad and grad school).

So everytime I taught, I had very very detailed notes explaining the calculation to myself, because I knew I couldn't do it unprepared. My students were able to follow my solutions (handwriting permitting) because I wrote everything out, every single step, no "and it can easily be shown that", no "clearly, this equals". It was there. But my analogies to explain the weirdness of electromagnetism were terrible. I mean, really really terrible. Confused, convoluted, mixed. And I didn't have a sense of the background of my students, what they would or would not be familiar with.

Now, I do algebra and calculus for my PhD research. My dining room table, my chalkboard, my whiteboard, my desk, random napkins are full of equations. I sit and do page after page (and redo page after page) of math. I've gotten better at recognizing common algebraic patterns. I no longer have to FOIL simpler multiplications. I do not question the utility of sines and cosines. It's obvious! So my worked out solutions in class have started to skips steps. Bit by bit, I assume a higher level of math literacy from my students. My analogies and metaphors have, generally, become better. I no longer mix metaphors, I stick with one main metaphor throughout a topic, and I don't use analogies to things that my students have no idea what that is. So while my students feel less baffled by my words, I get a dozen of them before and after class asking how we got from point A to point B in an equation.

And this is I think a hurdle science communicators have to face.  The best ones are good in their field. They breathe physics, chemistry, biology, what have you. It's a core component of their being and they are excited to share it with you. But it also means that they are far away from the confusion and doubts of their audience. They need to practice that skill of empathy which, at least in pop culture, we famously lack. It's not an easy skill, to put yourself back at that point of confusion and try to talk to that person. It's like trying to teach a small child something that is to you so easy you don't think about it, like tying your shoes. The best thing is to have a non-STEM friend to test out your explanations on, but even they can be a biased sample depending on how frequently you try to explain your work to them.

The second problem, as the many youtube comment sections to these videos attest, is that science bumps up uncomfortably against areas of worldview and identity for people. The world is a big, nasty, confusing place and people build their worldviews and identities in a way that, fundamentally, tries to make them feel safe, even if it is a very weird and convoluted safety. For example, conspiracy theorists, whatever their theory of choice, want to believe that someone is in control. The idea that violence or disease or natural disaster  just happen, is intolerable. Far preferable that a malevolent and powerful group somewhere is in charge than we being hostages to fortune.

And this is even harder than empathy for confusion, because it does not require a  shoveling on of better explained facts, or more facts. It requires the mindset of a missionary instead of a teacher and it is a very different mindset. Its also a mindset that makes many scientists uncomfortable. Science isn't a religion, it isn't faith, it's fact. Facts exist whether you want them to exist or not. But science is increasingly touching areas of our lives that are not experienced as fully rational, where strong beliefs are preexistent and the science communicators job is no longer to make clear something that was not thought of or not understood, but to modify or replace beliefs. And it is a much longer process.

I feel it is important to note here that science communicators should also be aware of where to stop. There is a fine line between  teaching scientific truth and teaching your world view.  Most of the time I have seen science communication blow up is where that line is crossed. For example, please, by all means explain the correct mechanisms for evolution and the strength of evidence we have for it. The minute you say "See? You don't need a god to make this work after all" you have lost any ground or good will you may have gained.

I think we could borrow a bit from missionaries, modified to our needs. One of the classic techniques for missionaries is to talk to people, and begin from their starting point. The missionary can then more easily lead in small steps to the point where the next step is faith or not faith. I don't see why would couldn't develop a similar method for science communication where the problem is not information but belief. Again, using evolution as an example. Starting with something close to home (antibiotic resistant infections), moving further afield to elephants losing their tusks as a defense against ivory poaching, to dogs from wolves, making the gradual transition from 'microevolution' to 'macroevolution' to a final understanding that it is all just 'evolution'. But again, changing beliefs is not fast. It requires investment.

So, what is it that I am trying to say? Are we doing science communication badly? Should we stop doing it unless we can be just great? NO. By no means. What I am saying is that we already have a community of science communicators who are really good at what they do. Dr Skyskull has a great blog for weird physics, occasionally cats and horror. Myles Power has a bunch of great videos largely debunking bad science/logic in a fairly respectful manner even if his language is a little coarse to american ears. JimTheEvo has a really cool series on infection, evolution and human history*. My point is that we can be even better. Maybe by focusing our audience, maybe just by being more thoughtful. I think it might be time to move to the next level.


*I know they are all males. The women scientist blogs I read are less explaining and more linking to it things people would know. Powered by Osteons does a great job pointing out where bioanthropology intersects popular culture, for example.

Friday, June 20, 2014

School Related Miscellany

Today,  I learned two interesting facts about the progress on my PhD, from an administrative standpoint. The first interesting thing is that, credit wise, I could graduate in a year.  The second interesting thing is that I have six months to select and recruit a thesis committee, create and defend my prospectus.

The first news is good, if a little irrelevant. It means that publications, not credits, are going to be what stands between me and the piece of paper that gives me three extra letters after my name as well as the authority to teach at the college level. Publications are slightly more in my control, since if it came down to credits, I can only take so many at once.

The second new is not bad news, its just a little frustrating. I should have learned this last January. In theory I could have learned it from reading the course catalogue, but the program description is  written in a maddeningly opaque manner. I *think*, so long as I can corale the necessary professors in a reasonably quick manner, that it can be done by early fall. At least that is what I am aiming for, which means it will be done by the December deadline. So maybe I can graduate in like a year and a half? Fingers crossed? I'm still going to say "something like 3 years" to any relatives who ask. Last time I tried to give something more concrete they started sending me "congrats on graduating" cards severely prematurely.

In other news, my little brother graduated middle school today, on the high honor roll to boot! I know it's cliche, but I can remember when he was born, so it's weird to have him graduate middle school, be something like a half foot taller than me and sound exactly like my dad on the phone*. I'm so proud of him, and I can't wait to see what he does. Last I heard he was planning on doing chemistry for college, but no matter what he does, I'll be proud, and he will almost certainly be very, very good at it. He's already way better at music, math, drawing and writing that I ever was, and I haven't exactly turned out to be a slouch. It's exciting to see him at what could be said to be a midway point of his academic career, and for him to have reached it with such success. I can totally see him turning out to be some kind of renaissance man/scientist.

Anyway, that's the end of the week news from around here. I really need to get back to some good science blogging, but that may have to wait for next weekend.

*I now only have a 50/50 shot of correctly guessing who is on the other end of the phone when I call their household now. My sister and my mom have sounded alike for years, but now with my father and brother sounding alike, its just too much.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

A morning walk gone bad

This is apparently what you get for getting an early start on the day. Usually Penny and I take a walk around 8 in the morning, and then I either head into work and she sleeps, or work from home and she sleeps. We take a 1 mile loop around the neighborhood, smile and say hi to the other walkers going the same loop the other way, enjoy the out of doors before it gets too hot to enjoy. It is typically uneventful, possibly a squirrel to chase or a blue skink, but calm.

This morning, we went out closer to 7:30, and we met the one mean, aggressive dog in the neighborhood, who also has somewhat incompetent owners. We were walking down one side of the street, and I saw an older couple walking what looked like an older black lab and a younger, stripey mutt walking toward us on the other side of the street. I raised a hand and said hi, as is customary in the neighborhood. The man responded in kind, but the younger dog started growling and making the weird, whiney noise some dogs make when they raise their hackles.

 I saw the woman walking him stop and crouch down beside him, looking like she was holding him tightly. Penny was walking calmly, pretty much ignoring the dog, so we just kept walking. We've had a couple rescue dogs in the neighborhood whose owners do the same thing, where they stop, make the dog sit, and kinda sit with the dog until the other person passes by. Heck, I did it with Penny for a while when we first got her and she still had her street-dog nerves.

Just as we passed them on the other side, I glance over to see how the other dog is doing because he's still really growling, only to see him slip his choke collar and come at Penny. His owner starts screaming at me to "pick her up!", I'm trying to put myself between the dog and Penny while pulling Penny to me so I can pick her up (the other dog was maybe three times her size), so poor Penny ends up getting choked herself until I finally get her up in my arms and the owners come over to grab the dog. The man of course still had to hold onto the black dog, who wasn't too happy by this point, so as quickly as I can I just walk away, still carrying Penny.

I put her down about half a block down when I couldn't see them anymore. I was shaking, and Penny was coughing a little, but by the time we were half way around the loop, she was acting like nothing happened, and I was still shaking. I checked her out when we got home to make she wasn't hurt. I got a few scratches through my clothes that didn't break the skin, but we were both basically unhurt, somehow.

Penny's been quieter today, and a little skittish, and I temporarily lost the ability to do basic math (I tried to pay a $34 tab with three twenties. I had to stare at the twenty the cashier was trying to hand back to me for a good 30 seconds before I comprehended why she was trying to give my money back). I wish that I had gotten the name of the owners, but that "run away from the dog trying to bite you and your dog" instinct is seriously strong. I can probably find out from the other walkers if I really want to, but in the meantime I got a good harness with a handle so if we run into them again, I can easily scoop Penny up without choking her.

Mostly, at this point in the day, I wish that dog owners wouldn't buy choke collars. They are very hard to use correctly and very very easy to use incorrectly. On a dog that is already borderline aggressive, if you use it on them everytime they see person and growl, you are teaching them that new person = getting choked. And of course if you release the tension on it, they can easily get out of it, as this dog did.

We won't be taking walks at 7:30 anymore, I think.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Women in Science Part 2

In part one, I told my boring story of how I got into science without anyone telling me I couldn't because I was a girl. I wanted to put my story out there not as a "See? It's not really a problem. These people are exaggerating" but to show that this huge, widespread problem doesn't have to be. I didn't grow up in some science or feminist utopia. I know one other woman made it through college with a science degree without anyone telling her she couldn't, and she was homeschooled by two engineers. We shouldn't be the outliers. We shouldn't be considered lucky for having been encouraged or at least not actively discouraged. We should be in the majority, with those who were discouraged the outliers who ran into the few bad eggs.

And it's a big problem. I've heard the horror stories, seen the surprised looks when students walk into my classroom and see me, a woman, standing up there ready to teach them. I've had female students come up to me at the end of the semester and tell me how happy they were to have a female teacher, because they are interested in physics but were afraid that we were all, their words, "men or old cranky spinsters".  But it is honestly  shocking to me that there are so few women in my classrooms, or that I would have to serve as some kind of female-breaking-into-science role model. Am I in a 21st century secular classroom or what?

The problems pop up all over the place. It's not just people with outdated or misogynistic ideas discouraging girls the farther they get in their education. It's the fact that women in science is presented as this new thing, instead of us having been here all along, just kind of hiding. That scientists are socially inept man-childs. That to be a good scientist means having no life outside the lab. The fact that lab equipment is all designed for use by men.

I don't completely know what the solution to this is, either. I know what things should not be included in the solution. Things like telling women scientists to marry starving artists. Yes, this was the advice given to us by the feminist speaker at the Undergrad Women In Physics conference I attended. The logic being that a  starving artist would be willing to follow us around wherever our careers might lead, would be willing to take care of the house and any children because they would just be so grateful to be eating. The way to more women in science should not be paved with turning men into Betty Drapers. It should not include pink science sets. It should not including trampling other people and it shouldn't involve superficial changes.

I think a part of the solution needs to be scientists speaking out, not just as physicists or biologists, but as people. Something that nearly scared me off of grad school was the perception that I would lose who I am for that opportunity, and I have heard the same sentiment from the young women whom I teach. We don't want to be pigeonholed as housewives, nor do we want to be pigeonholed as scientists. There needs to be an explicit acknowledgement that you can be a human being with relationships and hobbies and be a scientist.

A trickier thing is to push for more inclusion of women without making their inclusion about their gender. The "we want to make sure we show off the women in our department" mentality is just as insulting (to me) as setting us up for exclusion. Include me because I am a scientist and my work is interesting, and make it possible for me to attend. Don't include me to make quota.

Science, and society, needs to do some soul searching. It is a painful absurdity that half the population is implicitly and explicitly pushed away from making the kind of discoveries that change the course of humanity. How much farther could we be if we didn't waste half of our intellectual resources? Scientists want to show that science is the way forward for humanity, they need to start proving that they aren't willing to leave half of us in the dust.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Women and Science Part 1

There has been a lot of very good discussion lately on how women are treated in our society. It's a discussion that needs to happen, though it's a terrible shame people had to die for it to happen. The discussion has been going on long enough now that it has started to group off into subgroups a bit. One of the discussions on my twitterfeed for the a few days  was about how women still face discouragement when they try to enter STEM fields, with women sharing stories of subtle and not so subtle prejudice.

It's a discussion that I could probably be expected to enter. On paper, I look like the right kind of girl to have experienced this kind of thing. I came from a strongly religious background, I went to a small high school and a Christian college, entering a field with some of the worst male/female ratios. Someone somewhere along the line should have told me I shouldn't go into physics, right?

Fact of the matter is, no. No one in my life ever told me I couldn't do science. I had a handful of people tell me I couldn't be a pastor because I was a woman when I thought that was what I was going to do with my life (oddly enough, one of them was a chemistry teacher). But no one ever said or implied that I couldn't do science because I was a girl. Through my entire growing up, I was given the opportunities and encouragement to explore whatever interested me. The fact that I landed in science feels less like "I beat the odds! I am woman, hear me roar!" and more like "I followed my natural inclinations and talents and this is where I landed".

Though I am nearly 100% certain this was not their intention, my parents gave me what, in retrospect, was a fairly gender-neutral choice of toys growing up. I had baby dolls, a toy kitchen, dress up clothes and play make up. I also had a big bucket of blocks, a wooden train set, an erector set, an a tool belt with kid-sized real tools. I got a microscope and an EZ Bake. If I expressed an interest in something, they got me books on the subject or took me to the library and helped me find what I wanted using the card catalogue or the computer*.

So I read mystery stories, fantasy stories, books on bugs, plate tectonics, and anatomy. At my grandma's house I read the encyclopedia, I experimented on one of her many spider plants, I cooked weird things and found out what was inside bath beads. For a science fair my dad helped me build a contraption exhibiting different types of levers ending in connecting a circuit with a ball bearing and lighting a small bulb. He explained the physics of musical instruments and other things. No one ever told me that I shouldn't explore any topic I found interesting.

In school, I will admit science education was a little haphazard. On the bad side of things, my seventh-grade science teacher was actually qualified in english, not science, and we learned more about his college hockey career and the three types of rocks he could pronounce than we were supposed to. He thought the preserved frogs we were supposed to dissect smelled too bad and left them to soak in buckets of water over spring break. That wing of the school was unusable for a week after spring break since it turns out that when you wash the preservatives out of dead frogs and leave them in a 90 degree classroom, they rot pretty quickly.

But my high school physics teacher was a legend in my school. Physics had a reputation for being an easy class compared to the other sciences taught at my high school because he didn't believe in busy work (which the biology teacher was famous for). He had two classroom spaces that had been joined together into one mega-classroom, one half having a traditional lecture set up and the other half having lab tables. Everyone knew he kept a tea kettle and a hot plate in his backroom, because you could hear the kettle whistle 15 minutes into class time.

He was a brilliant teacher. He had a very simple philosophy--if you wanted to learn, he would spend hours with you, working on a single topic until you were solid on it. If you didn't, he wouldn't heap worksheets on you--you just had to take your D and not complain. He would lecture for the first 15 minutes of class, pause to get his tea, come back and answer questions we had articulated in the meantime, then set us free to the back tables to work on problem sets. We could ask him questions, and he would guide you to the answer while never giving you the answer. When you were done, you could do anything that wasn't disruptive (a small group of us worked on the NY Times crossword with him). He worked on a budget of pretty much nothing. The books were 20 years old and falling apart, and he had only one working set of equipment for each topic, if that. He improvised, he used youtube videos, anything to get his point across. He convinced me that no matter what else I wanted to do with my life, I wanted to study physics.

Sidenote: As a testament to how great a teacher he was, even among the students he failed, the legend/myth grew around him that when he retired, that science wing of the school would fall. We turned out to be half right--the year after he left they discovered they needed to retrofit that wing for asbestos before they could finish an expansion of the school, and that part was indeed destroyed.

In college, the physics professors were indeed mostly male, but we had almost 50% female physics majors during my years there (we had a minor celebration when we realized at one physics department tea time that there were more females than males there that day).  My professors were never anything but supportive of the young women in their classrooms, all without making us feel like a special class of citizen. The only questioning of my abilities that I ever got was with regard to my ability to lift heavy things. But since I'm 5' 1", I can't say I really blame them, even if I did prove them wrong.

I did research with a great professor who guided me from the student-who-takes-orders stage to being in charge of his labs and coordinating between members of the project. I learned valuable skills in macgyvering lab equipment, finding what you needed in odd places and managing people. I never felt like a second class citizen. I was a physics major. The fact that I was a woman meant that I could go to the Undergraduate Women in Physics conference, but had nothing to do with my intelligence or my prospects. They were excellent role models, as physicists and as citizens.

Strangely enough, the first time I encountered anything that I could have construed as sexism with regards to my being a physicist was after I had already been in grad school for a semester. I just laughed in the commenter's face. It seemed so anachronistic. It was ridiculous, a weird joke. But no, they were serious, and far from alone in their opinion.

So, that's my story. A non-exciting story of how a young woman faced no opposition when she set her sights towards science. A story that I wish were commonplace, and I hope I can help make unremarkable.

*Yes, I know how to use a card catalogue. I don't know if that shows my age or the slowness with which my town adopted computers in the libraries.

Friday, June 13, 2014

What 3 years of marriage has taught me

This week my husband and I celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary. I made a pull-out-all-the-stops dinner, and we drank champagne from our good crystal. And then we happily collapsed in our chairs to watch TV together, because life has presented us with a wonderful opportunity that will mean a good bit of change in our near future, all for the better but nonetheless exhausting.

It also lead to me to reflect on what a strange state marriage is. I would choose to marry my husband over and over again if given the choice, because for all the little ways he can annoy or infuriate me, I can't imagine sharing my life with anyone else. We are two very stubborn, argumentative people. We courted for 4 months by walking around campus and debating everything under the sun. Though I don't believe in soulmates, his existence and the fact that we, improbably, found each other is almost enough to convince me. He's a friend, a partner, a confidant and whetting stone. We've worn down the rough edges on each other, without wearing each other out.

Part of making marriage work , I've realized, is recognizing the importance of the day to day things. He makes sure to call me when he leaves work so I can time dinner correctly. I make sure to do laundry frequently so he is never out of socks. I  keep the kitchen clean and stocked, and he keeps the bathrooms clean and stocked. Grand romantic gestures are nice, but so is not having to do that chore you hate. Waking up on a Saturday morning to the sound of the bathrooms being cleaned is one of the best gifts my husband can give me.

Three years isn't long in the grand scheme of things. But having now spent 12.5% of my life married to the man whom I impressed by arguing him into silence in Philosophy 101, and who impressed me swing dancing, I hope to spend 100% of whatever years remain to me, married to him.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Update--Still here!

I know it's been quite a while (2 weeks? almost a month? something like that) since I posted anything here. It's not for a lack of ideas, I assure you, more due to a lack of time.

May seems to always be a bit of a crazy month for us. There's my insanity with end of the semester grading. Someone always seems to graduate, some  unforeseen event occurs and the transition to summer seems to take up a lot of time.

In mid May we took a long weekend and went up North to see my sister graduate college, summa cum laude and with more honors than I can remember. She had enough colorful ropes around her neck to tie back a house full of drapes or hogtie someone. We are, needless to say, incredibly proud of and happy for her. Not surprised, because she's just that kind of person, but still proud and happy.

Then she came and visited us, and for the first time since we came to NC she didn't have to help us move! For the 3 years previous, she had come down to help us move 1) to NC 2) from our first apartment to our second much nicer apartment or 3) paint our new house.  It was lovely to just be able to do sister-y things, like trying new restaurants, go shopping and hang out.

Big things are happening around our house. We finally got a new dishwasher to replace the one that had finally given up the ghost after 25 years back in March, and the new windows to replace the ones that are rotting out upstairs will be installed next week. We're hopefully going to finish all the repair work from last fall's adventure in faulty plumbing in the next few months. We might, fingers crossed, have the house ship-shape by fall.

Research is going fantastically. I even discovered that at some point last fall, I had done most of the work for project, which is like a time traveling gift to myself.

I have a lot of blog posts lined up for the rest of summer, so hopefully things are settling down now and I'll find time to write in the evenings more.