Gliese 581 g aka "Zarmina's World"

One day when we tell the story of our lives we may refer to this time as "the year they discovered Gliese 581 g." It's the planet that orbits in the sweet spot of a red giant with temperatures that could support life. It could have an atmosphere, it might have water, it might have bacteria, it might have a whole ecosystem. We can't tell from this distance. The astonishing part is that it's tidally locked to its sun so that the same side of the planet always faces it, and part of the world is always left in shadow. The part that gets the direct sunlight is too hot and the shadow portion is too cold but there's a ring that in perpetual twilight and the temperature is perfect for human life.

I'm not terribly surprised; we've found planets with potentially livable conditions before. Alpha Centauri comes readily to mind. What surprises me is that no one seems terribly excited. We have found a new world--one that might support life. Our grandchildren may see the space ship built for its' exploration. Our great grandchildren may colonize it. It could be the beginning of our spread from one single rock floating alone in space to a series of connected worlds.

Mankind abhors a vacuum even more than space does. The thought of a life-supporting planet, unexplored and empty of humans, is intolerable. We must seek out fresh frontiers to save our civilization from stagnation. And in the long run, it’s essential for the survival of our species; not even our sun can last forever. Our travel beyond this solar system is inevitable; the only other option is extinction.

I think that the lack of enthusiasm for space exploration is borne from the myth that traveling beyond our solar system is a pipe dream—something so far beyond our grasp that humanity might not live to see it. True, we’re not there yet. We have mastered the theories necessary, but the application is too expensive.

There are many factors holding us back, but they are temporary. We cannot help but explore, eventually we will leave Earth and streak across the galaxy in the mad frenzy of animal released from a cage. How I envy those who will live to see it. If we had the craft now, ready to leave for a planet just barely prepared for human life, I know I would be on it.

Is enough really enough Judy?

In my wanderings I found this website.

http://slightlywarped.com/crapfactory/curiosities/2010/stupid_answers.htm

For those of you not quite curious enough to click on the link (and it is a massive time waster) I’ll summarize. The work sheet asks a question, the student gives an intentionally wrong answer and the poor teacher throws his or her hands up in frustration. Some answers are born out of

Boredom.....

Or laziness...

A funny acknowledgment of ignorance...

Or they couldn’t pass up a good joke...

But sometimes I sense defiance

I want you to notice that on the bottom left the paper says “lesson 3- Feelings.” Someone gave little Judy a homework assignment designed to help her identify human emotion. Imagine if your boss or professor gave you a similar assignment—it’s a bit insulting isn’t it? Who wants to discuss emotions with their boss?

But there’s more to it than that. It’s not simply when the topic is ridiculous. There’s a problem with format. It’s either a or b. And while it’s true that many questions have only one correct answer, the questions are presented as drills rather than puzzles. Puzzles are fun, that’s why I like algebra. Drills however are deadly dull.

And then there’s the worksheet itself. A worksheet is entirely impersonal. You wonder if the teacher is consciously grading a person’s paper or if the teacher is simply entering in the percentage of correct questions into a column that happens to be labeled by a human name. I can see how it’s tempting to a student to demand acknowledgement through doodles—to force a genuine interaction rather than giving an expected answer.

I only did this once in my whole life. When I was a college student I took a psychological statistics course. At the end of each statistic’s problem was the additional question “how would you explain this to someone who has no knowledge of statistics?” I found myself writing the same paragraph word for word over and over in response to this question. So once I copied down my stock explanation I added “then I would publicly flog whoever asked me so many statistics questions when they had no prior knowledge of the subject.” That’s probably not an exact quote, but it involved flogging.

Soon after, the professor sent an e-mail asking the students to stop writing smart-alec responses to the question. He used public flogging as an example of an inappropriate answer. He said that explaining the concept was valuable and it ensured comprehension. Of course he was right. And I felt bad that I might have offended him. I felt worse the next year when I found out that my new roommate was the TA who graded that paper.

'Cause that ain't a metaphor

In my dream, Shane and I were on the BYU football team. We were second and third string, and I was the only girl, my position was "third tackle," yeah, I know it's a made up position. My job was to jump in front of the running back so he had to move suddenly and get tackled by someone else. I was advised not to tackle anyone since I was much smaller and I'd only hurt myself.

When we went to play Wyoming, a lot of the BYU players brought their wives and they visited the wives of the Wyoming players like they were all old friends. They were all well-dressed, thin, tan and blond. When I showed up in workout clothes one of them exclaimed "Oh, you must be a dancer." I assured her that I was not a dancer but a member of the prestigious BYU football team with an important team meeting to attend. The women laughed and invited me into their homes where they told me about their football playing husbands and asked me about my husband's football career. No one believed that I was on the team.

Eventually I started enjoying myself with them but I still had an important pre-game meeting to attend. I left the women and told them that I had to go talk with my husband. I made it to the meeting just in time, but no one seemed to care that I was there. The men were polite but they mostly ignored me because they had a big game to think about. I was an unimportant player who wouldn’t even step foot on the field. It was obviously a waste of the team’s resources to transport me to games. I wondered why I was so anxious to leave the women’s house for a game I was so clearly incompetent in.

When I woke up I didn’t know which group was better. With the football wives we could afford to talk all day about our husbands and children—but we never had anything to say about selves. With the team itself, there was no hostility but I was only in the way; I wasn’t even any good at the game so there was no point in demanding that they acknowledge me. I had neither the heart to be complacent nor the skill to be successful.