Inspiration and Teen-aged Boys

Last night, my husband asked the kids what they learned in school today. Matt said, “Nothing.” He typically says this. And since I’m his teacher I just roll my eyes and smile.

Then Cal asked Jake, who’s in his first year of college. Jacob said, “Well, in my engineering class, I had to write a two page paper on ‘What inspired me to study engineering.’” Everyone exchanged glances. And then laughter.

Then someone (I think it was me) asked Jacob, “Uh, is your prof a girl?”

Jacob: “Nope.”

Luke: “Did they specify font size?”

Jacob: “Yeah.”

Me: “So what did you write?”

Jacob: “I asked the girl next to me what I should write. She gave me some great suggestions.”

Me: I smile and say nothing. But I’m not entirely surprised. I’ve taught teenaged boys for years. They have no idea what inspires them. Except maybe food. That’s it—Jake was inspired to be an engineer so he could get a job and buy food for himself.

Cal: “So how long was your paper?”

Jake: “Almost a page and a half. I asked the professor if that was okay. He said, ‘Whatever.’ I got the impression that he thought the assignment was dumb too.”

Yep, that prof’s been teaching teen-aged boys for a long time. I’m guessing that paper is a departmental assignment much along the lines of elementary school’s obligatory “What did you do over the summer?” first day of school writing assignment. 

Next up, a quiz on the physics of engineering--that's much more to Jacob's liking.

Milk Cartons & the End of Western Civilization

I think there’s a serious flaw in our college system. Especially in engineering departments. I think the accreditation boards need to get involved. Where are the good old days when engineers knew how to design a functional Christmas tree stand that didn’t need a dipstick (see here)? Or city storm drains that don’t flood our street? I could see an occasional design flaw. But lately everything has them. Even milk jugs. It used to be that milk came in waxed cardboard containers with spouts that folded out. You could pour milk without spilling a single droplet. Then, came the big plastic gallon containers. They weren’t quite as good, but with a little care in pouring—no problem. Now my milk comes in plastic rectangles with a rounded opening on a recessed end on the top. And they don’t work.

If you’ve ever poured milk from one of these monstrosities, you know that it “blubs” milk. No matter where you position your cereal bowl, when you tilt the carton, the milk will splat on the tablecloth. At first, I thought it was me. You know, pre-coffee and pre-cereal I don’t have the best mental function. Then a friend was at the house and I tipped a new milk carton to fill my creamer—the milk blubbed all over the counter. The woman said, “Don’t you hate that.” And in that moment, I knew it wasn’t just me.

So I complained at the Costco where I buy my six gallons of milk a week. (The checkout person always asks me if I’m a cheese maker. I say, “I have four adult/teenage kids.”) Anyway, the Costco manager explained that the weird containers save money because they ship better. He seems to be missing the point that at my house they lose my money—every time I open a container, 20 cents of milk ends up wasted and I have to wash a tablecloth. He didn’t seem to be concerned.

But this is my worry, a culture who can’t engineer a working milk container will probably never be able to put a man on the moon again. Sigh. The end of Western civilization as we know it.

But maybe this post will make a difference and engineering schools will teach their students “Milk Carton Design.” In the meantime, I take off the tablecloth for breakfast.