friday afternoon distractible stories: How I Became An Engineer
I hate math. I always have. And yet it's always been my best subject in school. To me it's always seemed like the most boring game of solitaire ever invented: a game with rules to follow, and if you follow the rules you get to the end, except that when you get to the end you say, "Who cares? Another bourbon, please."
And yes, this card-carrying math-hater became an engineer. Why? I often ask the same. See, I only recently realized that I like story problems--always have. You know, the problems most people hated in middle school? Train X leaves Detroit traveling towards Toledo at 50 miles per hour, Train Y leaves traveling to Chicago at 30 mph. At 4pm, what color is the sun in Bangalore?
I liked them because there were Things Happening. Life was going on. Abstract math was like the antithesis of life: the void where everything is colored grayish off-white and everyone looks like the taxidermied version of themself. But suddenly we had stories. Where was that train going? Who was on it? Was the scenery interesting? Were they worried or scared or happy to see their relatives at the other end? When will they get to Kansas City? Will it be dinner time?
See, with story problems there were possibilities and unknowns and people living lives. And that's what engineering is: a series of increasingly esoteric story problems. They require math, yes, but it's math with purpose. And science is cool.
And yes, this card-carrying math-hater became an engineer. Why? I often ask the same. See, I only recently realized that I like story problems--always have. You know, the problems most people hated in middle school? Train X leaves Detroit traveling towards Toledo at 50 miles per hour, Train Y leaves traveling to Chicago at 30 mph. At 4pm, what color is the sun in Bangalore?
I liked them because there were Things Happening. Life was going on. Abstract math was like the antithesis of life: the void where everything is colored grayish off-white and everyone looks like the taxidermied version of themself. But suddenly we had stories. Where was that train going? Who was on it? Was the scenery interesting? Were they worried or scared or happy to see their relatives at the other end? When will they get to Kansas City? Will it be dinner time?
See, with story problems there were possibilities and unknowns and people living lives. And that's what engineering is: a series of increasingly esoteric story problems. They require math, yes, but it's math with purpose. And science is cool.
random bits cobbled together by j-dub
4 Comments:
That sounds a lot like me, except that I am horrible at math (but I guess I was still better at it than most other people in my class?).
Also, I hated story problems because they were so banal and seemed so removed from anything useful in life; as abstract as the pure symbolic math. I have always vowed to write a math textbook based on useful story problems. For example:
1) If congress passes a $700,000,000,000 bailout bill, how much is that for every man, woman, and child living in the US?
2) If x% of that bill goes to pay for executive's golden parachutes, how big will their income tax return be if they hire the right accountant for $y?
3) Alan has worked at his job for three weeks before getting fired. He received $7.5 million the day he started and will receive $11.6 million on his last day. How much money has Alan made per hour?
4) Bob has also worked for the same company as Alan, but he gets no signing nor severance package. In fact, Bob has to reimburse the company for his relocation check that didn't even cover the cost of his move. That doesn't see fair, does it?
5) Say goodbye to your 401k plan, Bob.
6) How many men, women, and children are there in the US for every executive?
7) What if we all stopped working for a day?
I've always hated math for math's sake too. For me, if you put math in a science class, then I'm interested. If I figure out this problem, then I get to mix a bunch of chemicals together and make some weird compound? Awesome.
So what you're saying is that your train will be here in 37 minutes? Shit. Now that I know you're coming, I'm sort of obliged to bake that cake.
In other news, that Mr. DeSavage is rather clever, eh?
mr. deSavage is, in fact, quite a clever person. And perhaps a little disgruntled, as many of us are.
T, no hurry on that cake: Amtrak is usually a few hours late. God bless the midwest, and shared freight/passenger rail lines.
Churlita, Copper-II-Sulfate is the prettiest blue ever. EVER. And easily made from two clear compounds...I think?
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