My introductory astronomy class has been over for a while now, but I am currently taking “Writing about Science”, a class designed to teach the strategies of writing about science for non-scientists. I’ve enjoyed the assignments so far, and while I have no idea if I’ll keep this blog going, I thought I’d share some of the stories I’ve written. This first one is about how I came to be intrigued by science.
The Penny and the Feather
I was in kindergarten when I met a real psychic for the first time. I’m not talking about those frauds who tell you to watch out for earthquakes in California, especially in the two weeks preceding and following a full moon. I mean a person who could actually predict the future accurately.
It was the day of a school assembly and we were all crowded into the gym. I sat on the hard wood floor, near the front of the room. Just a few rows away was a table with all sorts of contraptions on it. I don’t remember most of what was on there, but I do remember a grey cylinder with some black tubes connecting to a clear chamber. There was a woman standing behind the table. She eventually got our attention and the assembly began.
There were probably plenty of standard demonstrations of how chemicals can change color when mixed together and how light refracts and splits into a rainbow when it goes through a prism. Just as I don’t remember most of the equipment that was on the table, I don’t remember most of the experiments that the woman completed. Except for one. I was happily – complacently - watching the assembly when the woman said the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. She said that she would remove all the air in the clear chamber by using the grey cylinder to pump it out. This would create a vacuum in the clear chamber. Next, she would allow a penny and a feather to start falling inside the chamber at the same time. She then told us, with a completely straight face, that the penny and the feather would hit the bottom of the chamber at the same time.
I was incredulous! Everybody knew that the feather would slowly float down and land after the penny did. How could this woman claim such a thing? “Prove it,” I thought to myself.
The woman behind the table flipped a switch and there was a loud buzzing noise interspersed with glugging sounds as the air was sucked out of the clear chamber. Once the air was gone, she stopped the pump and set up the feather and the penny at the top of the chamber. After a count of three, she let go and the most spectacular thing happened. The penny and the feather hit the bottom of the chamber at the same time! The woman had been right! She managed to back up her claim with physical evidence and I had no choice but to change my understanding the world. This was the power of science. The power to predict the future accurately. The power to run experiments over and over again and always find the same result or else uncover a flaw in our current thoughts. The power to use logic to solidify one’s beliefs and understanding of the world. This power was intoxicating. And I quickly became an addict.
Once I realized I had been wrong about one thing, I had to wonder what else I was mistaken about. I started testing claims that I had heard, but never sought evidence for. That penny and feather ended up changing the way I experienced the world and I was surprisingly ok with this. In fact, I greatly welcomed and enjoyed science’s intrusion into my life. Of course, the hovercraft I was allowed to play with after the assembly may also have had something to do with my favorable impression of science. Whatever the cause, I was motivated to develop the power held by the woman from the assembly. Perhaps soon I, too, will be able to tell the future.
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