This is an abridged and gentle version of a speech given to members of the physics AP course at Piedmont Hills High School, San Jose, CA on 2005 January 03.
I know you have heard the familiar turn of phrase, "Do what you love; love what you do," but I am less certain that you understand its meaning, and I want to explain how this phrase has been familiar in various turns in my life. I figured out sometime during middle school that work was a requisite for obtaining the skills necessary for becoming self-sustaining, and so I entered my junior year at Piedmont Hills in 1999 with some vague idea that I would study electrical engineering at Berkeley. Members of my parents' generation unambiguously identified this as a desirable life; the relatively less fortunate had pushed their children to pursue it while the relatively fortunate had exhausted themselves clinging on to it. That vague plan changed when I discovered physics.
In some ways my definition of self-reliance had morphed. My best friend and I realized that our need to be self-sustaining had moved beyond putting food on the table. We wanted to be able to build technologies that served as social infrastructure; if we were stranded on an island we wanted electricity, potable running water, and computers; we wanted to be self-sufficient like movie heroes. A winter storm knocked out power, and Mr. Schuttinger had left for the afternoon, so we agreed to engineer a lamp. The jury-rigged monstrosity of Erector Set, a small light bulb, and two questionable D-batteries illuminated less than half of a leaf of homework, but we were very proud that we could build everyday appliances if we had to. Physics was the choice method for demystifying everyday black boxes and convincing ourselves that we knew enough about Faraday's law to build electric generators.
Self-reliance aside, physics revealed hedonistic desires whose intensity I had not known. I was solving one of those Newton's-laws problems, you know the one with two blocks tied by a massless string strung over a massless pulley. When I set the tension in one free-body diagram equal to the tension in another, I visualized the string come into Technicolor existence, and the visceral experience was amazing. When I played with equations and logic, I felt as though I were touching the underlying nature of physical reality.
For these reasons, well maybe I wasn't so explicit about the Technicolor string, I begged my parents to fund an education in the physics department at Harvey Mudd College, a small liberal arts school with an intense science and technology program reputable in the field. I know I made the right decision because of my persistent addiction to physics; I cannot resist data waiting to be analyzed, differential equations waiting to be integrated, and logical thoughts waiting to be understood. The price tag aside, my parents are happy because they know that I found a major in which to pour my heart, as evidenced by my neglect to call them more than perhaps once a semester. I take a moment to thank Mrs. Bulaich for introducing me to the school in the first place. I discovered something I loved to do in physics, and I pursued it in my college and major choice.
I know that being a doctor, lawyer, or engineer and going to Berkeley or Stanford appears safe, and people in the Piedmont Hills honors program have the wits to prepare themselves for these social roles. I understand that many immigrant families must follow paths to guarantee employment, but some of you live with more flexible opportunities, and you should be excited about realizing fully your unique capacities even if that means pursuing another career or a no-name school. You have a chance to express your creativity in personal ways, and the world should be excited to discover the unique places where your talents and interests coincide.
I composed the first draft 2005 January 01 from about 01:00 to 03:25. Minor revisions were added 2005 January 02 from 16:37 to 16:49. Abridged version for web written 2005 January 04 16:39 to 17:04.
Created 2005 January 04.