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Yay, a friend.
I strip off my sweater and take out my computer, and I must make some amount of noise while doing this because the guy lets out a low hum of a sigh.
“Do you know the Wi-Fi password?” I ask.
Still no eye contact. Even the floppy collar of his plaid red flannel looks thoroughly annoyed by me. “On the board.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Fortunately, I don’t have any additional opportunities to bother him before the professor, a middle-aged Asian woman in a tangerine blazer with black hair cropped to her chin, switches on the podium mic. Eighty thirty on the dot. “Good morning,” she says. “I’m Dr. Sumi Okamoto, and I’d like to welcome you to the spectacular world of physics.”
I open a fresh Word doc and start typing. New Barrett, better Barrett, takes notes even for a class she’s not sold on yet.
“I was nineteen when physics entered my life,” she continues, her gaze flicking up and down the rows of the auditorium. “It was my last semester before I needed to declare a major, and I was stressed, to put it lightly. I’d never considered myself a science person. I started college entirely unsure of what I’d study, and my introductory class was life-changing. Something clicked for me in a way it hadn’t in my other classes. There was poetry to physics, a beauty in learning to understand the world around me.”
There’s a clear sincerity in the way she speaks. The class is rapt, and I’m half compelled to stick it out.
“This course is going to be hard—”
Welp, never mind.
“—but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t reach out if you need help,” she says. “This may be an intro class, but I still expect you to take it seriously. I have tenure—I don’t have to teach 101 classes. In fact, most people in my position wouldn’t touch this class with a ten-foot pendulum.” Laughter, I assume from the people who get the joke. “But I do, and I only teach it one quarter a year. Physics 101 is typically a survey course for non-science majors—well, not the way I teach it. Some of you are here because you’re hoping to major in physics. Some of you are probably just here for a science credit. Whatever the reason, what I want you to take away from this class is the ability to keep asking questions. To wonder why. Sure, I’m not going to complain if this class ends up being some small part of your journey to, say, a PhD in physics.” She allows herself a chuckle at that. “But I’ll consider myself successful if I’ve gotten you to think about the whys of our universe more than you did prior to today.
“Moving on to some basic housekeeping: this university has a zero-tolerance policy for plagiarism….”
“You’re taking notes on this?” the guy next to me asks, freezing my hands on the keyboard. I stare down at what I’ve written. Something about a pendulum. Questions: good. Course: hard. Plagiarism: bad.
“Are you looking at my screen?” I hiss. “I’m trying to pay attention. You’re the one who’s been on Reddit this whole time. I think”—I crane my neck—“r/BreadStapledToTrees will be okay without you.”
“So you were looking at my screen.”
I slant my hand into the sliver of space between our seats. “It’s impossible not to.”
“Then I’m sure you know it’s a very creative and uplifting subreddit.”
Dr. Okamoto is heading up the stairs on the opposite side of the hall, passing out the course syllabus.
“I don’t really need one,” I say when my delightful neighbor hands one to me, though I take it anyway. “I’m switching out.” Alas, he must know that despite the undeniable spark between us, our love may not be able to withstand the separation.
He actually laughs at this, a gruff under-his-breath sound. “All that note-taking, and you’re switching out?”
“I took AP Physics last year, so.” And got a two on the exam, which he doesn’t need to know.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a former AP Physics student.” He taps the syllabus. “Then I’m sure you already know all about electromagnetism. And quantum phenomena.”
This guy must have also gone to Lucie Lamont’s School of the Outrageously Uptight and majored in Taking Everything Personally. I can’t think of any other explanation for why he’s so combative at 8:47 in the morning. In this economy? Who has the energy?
“You know, my brain’s still waking up, so I’m going to have to take a rain check.”
He looks unimpressed. His ears, I’ve noticed, stick out just a little. “My—Dr. Okamoto said she only teaches this class once a year. There’s a waiting list. For physics majors.”
“Which I imagine is what you are,” I say.
“Let me guess: you’re undecided.”
I’m about to tell him that I have in fact decided, I just haven’t declared it yet, but Dr. Okamoto is back at the podium and launching into today’s lecture, which is all about what physics is and what physics isn’t.
“I’m not the kind of professor who’s satisfied with talking at my students for fifty minutes straight,” she says. “Class participation is encouraged, even if you don’t have the right answer. In fact, much of the time there may not even be a right answer, let alone one right answer.” She gives us a Cheshire-cat grin. “And this is the moment when I pray to Newton, Galileo, and Einstein that more than two of you did the reading I emailed about last week. Let’s start with the absolute basics. Who can tell me what physics is the study of?”
