I do physics like Socrates. I am a
discussion-based thinker who learned the Dobbler Effect not as f’=f(v sound +/-
v observer / v sound +/- v source) but rather as the relationship between sound
and observer. I learned the force of a spring not as Fs=-kx but
rather as a directly proportional relationship. I learned intensity not as I =
E/4pir2 but rather as the proportion of energy per unit of 3D space.
I recalled the early months of freshman year
when I sat in on my brother’s college quantum physics class. Even though I
understood only every other word, I was excited by the revelation that math was
more than arithmetic. When the professor discussed electron spin, once abstract
ideas like sine and cosine started to make sense. When the professor discussed
the Pauli Equation, pointless methods like calculating limits started to seem
valuable. When the professor presented the ideas behind quantum theory in terms
of Max Planck’s life, math and history – once disconnected – began to
correlate.
Pondering the role of chemistry in the world
around me transformed my perception of reality. I began to focus on the
macroscopic rather than the microscopic. A couch was no longer a place to sit but rather a vibrating mass of
microscopic particles. I was constantly intrigued by the simplest of questions,
such as why the steam from the shower rose in a spiral motion or why the air
above the turf field appeared to be moving on a hot day. I found myself coming
to school early to inquire about the science behind my daily life. I had to
know why the water we drank was clean regardless of musty pipes, and how x-rays
showed only bones. I approached my chemistry teacher during my free period for
additional reading material that we discussed weekly. I discovered that atoms
were not simply atoms, nor light simply light: the properties of both
overlapped.
I took my first advanced physics class in
junior year and spent free periods doodling suspension bridges and circuits on
my notebook. I made my own summer plans for the first time. I signed up for
Operation Catapult, an engineering program at Rose Hulman Institute of
Technology. Mechanical engineering consumed me, and I found myself eager to
seize the opportunity to use a wind tunnel. The first week I panicked. What am I doing? Where do I start? What
equations do I even use? But then I
realized that it was okay to be confused. It was okay to not know what I was
doing, because that is what experimental research is all about. Textbooks only
served as resources; the real knowledge came when I derived my own equations.
So, I still spent the next couple of weeks scratching my head, but I began
asking the basic, yet critical
questions – What variables does it test?
What can I compare the results from the wind tunnel to? How do I put the drag
to lift coefficients in dimensionless form? For the first time, I could see
a future for myself; I could see myself doing experimental research. It is
where I can find meaning through question and discovery.
The Socratic method is my style. I’m all about
inquiry, analyzing, discussing.
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