2014 Summer Reading List

I have discovered a chronic problem in my life: Difficulty making time to read. During the fall and spring terms, I'm overrun with grading, advising, committee work, meetings, managing up, fits and spurts of research & writing---and oh yeah, that whole teaching thing forms the center of it all. Today I discovered that I had ~3 months worth of articles and journal TOCs piled up in my task list.

I'd like to think this problem is localized to the fall and spring terms, but the spring term ended a month ago. The problem is, if I view fall and spring as burdens and summer as reprieves, I won't make time for important things, like reading articles outside of my immediate needs.

So, I'm going to try something different: I'm going to blog about what I read this summer. Perhaps by turning my desire to read into a project, I'll actually schedule it instead of letting it fill in the gaps. Here are the 13 papers currently on my list, and a brief explanation of why I'm interested in them.

• The Advanced Lab: Hallmark of an Outstanding Undergraduate Program (Reichert, AJP 82 3, 2014). JU Physics currently has no advanced lab, and I'm looking to better incorporate research skills into our curriculum.
• Thermodynamics of bread baking: A two-state model (Zurcher, AJP 82 224, 2014). Mmm... whole wheat physics...
• A model for incorporating computation without changing the course: An example from middle-division classical mechanics (Caballero & Pollock, AJP 82 231, 2014). Computational physics from the department that brought us the CLASS? #SignMeUp.
• Advantages of using a logarithmic scale in pressure-volume diagrams for Carnot and other heat engine cycles (AJP Shieh & Kan, AJP 82 306, 2014). We don't use log scales enough in undergraduate physics & engineering education, and we don't show where the Carnot efficiency comes from clearly enough. 
• Matrix Mechanics of the infinite square well and the equivalence proofs of Schrodinger and von Neumann (Prentis & Ty, AJP 82 6 2014). I'm hoping to better develop students' understanding of the relationship between the two formulations of quantum mechanics. If I can do so with the first problem we solve, hooray!
• A guide to hunting periodic three-body orbits (Suvakov & Dmitrasinovi, AJP 82 609 2014). A promising computational physics application for my students to work through.
• Writing Science Fiction Stories to Motivate Analysis of Journal Articles (Kontur, http://arxiv.org/ftp/arxiv/papers/1403/1403.2435.pdf). Sounds promising!
• How physics instruction impacts students' beliefs about learning physics (Madsen, McKagan, & Sayre, http://arxiv.org/ftp/arxiv/papers/1403/1403.6522.pdf). This paper is a meta-analysis of many studies using the CLASS.
• Teaching and physics education research: Bridging the gap (Fraser et al, Rep. Prog. Phys. 77, 2014). I'd like to learn more about encouraging faculty to adopt engaged learning practices.
• A Guided Inquiry on Hubble Plots and the Big Bang (Forringer, TPT 52 199, 2014). I'm hoping to use this in class, and in my discussions with YECists at church.
• The Confirmation of the Inverse Square Law Using Diffraction Gratings (Papacosta & Linscheid, TPT 52 243, 2014). I'll be teaching an intro-level optics course this fall, and currently don't do anything experimental with the inverse square law.
• Motivating Students to Do Homework (Kontur & Terry, TPT 52 295, 2014). Who doesn't have this problem?
• Teaching labs the Compass Way (Gandhi et al, http://arxiv.org/pdf/1404.6831v1.pdf). I'd like to learn how to make my labs into more authentic research experiences.

So, I have 11 weeks of summer left, so if I post my thoughts about 1-2 articles each week, I'll be through my entire list (just in time to start another...).

The power of a good theory

There's a new set of articles buzzing around Facebook that seem to indicate that the case is "closed" on the allegedly faster-than-light (or "superluminal;" I learned that word this past year, though it seems my computer's dictionary hasn't) neutrinos. After all the controversy, CERN's Sergio Bertolucci has made the excellent point that the story has "given people the opportunity to see the scientific method in action."


I hope, in particular, that this story shows the public the power of a good theory.


I am a theoretical physicist, working on the side of the scientific method--essentially, model development and exploration--that most of the public (most notably, students) would rather gloss over. There's a lot of math, a lot of words, no "real-world" laboratory set-up, and very few cool pictures (and the cool pictures that do exist are computer generated and therefore to be considered suspect). "Show me how it works!" the experiment-preferring public cries, followed by squeals of joy when it looks like the prevailing theory (in this case, relativity) might be overturned by new "real" evidence (in this case, faster-than-light neutrinos).


Why do so many people seem averse to theory? Why is there such a furor when a prevailing theory seems to be disproved? I can't answer those questions for sure (especially since I have loved theory since I finally cracked SOHCAHTOA at a church chalkboard late one cold October night in my junior year of high school), but I do have a few ideas.

1. Many people don't like math: They don't like having to follow it or do it.
2. Experiments are "cooler" than theory (until, of course, you have to mathematically analyze the data, which is why I think many students prefer demonstrations, not experiments). 
3. Many people have been taught that the only kind of science is experimental science. (I think this statement is incomplete, as described below.)
4. Many people simply do not understand the power of a good theory.

Theories are more than esoteric cogitations of "the way things ought to be." They're a logical exploration of the implications of our underlying assumptions--assumptions which usually come from previous experimental results. Sometimes, the explorations are short-lived: For example, we spent one day on relativistic quantum mechanics in graduate school, just long enough to find the infinity that showed its invalidity. Sometimes, the explorations take a long time: We're still figuring out how to successfully formulate string theory. But once we've formulated the principles, we apply a reasoning process (ideally in the form of mathematical proof/derivation), and arrive at applications that have some testable qualities. These three pieces (well-formulated and well-founded principles, sound reasoning process, and testable applications) are essential to any good theory.

Take, for example, electromagnetic theory (which I get to teach at the junior level again this coming fall). All of the principles of the model (stationary point charges emit electric fields radially outward, a constant straight current produces circular magnetic fields around it, and changing electric or magnetic flux induces a magnetic or electric field, respectively, and magnetic "charges" don't exist) are based on experimental observations over hundreds of years. We (theorists) take those principles to develop applications of them, most notably optics, radiation, materials properties, circuits, and relativity.

We develop those applications as a way of saying, "If the underlying principles of this theory are correct, and the reasoning we've employed is sound, then in this situation (say, a particle approaching the speed of light) we should observe this behavior (say, the particle being unable to exceed the speed of light)." If you put it the other way, we're saying, "If we observe a certain behavior (say, a particle seeming to travel faster than the speed of light), then either the underlying principles are incorrect, or the reasoning we've employed is flawed."

And therein lies the power of a good theory: When you've confirmed the underlying principles time and again, and checked and rechecked the reasoning that leads to the applications, the theory (the principles, reasoning, and application) helps us know when to doubt a scientific claim.

When these results came out last year claiming superluminal speeds, most theorists knew not to be alarmed but rather to approach them with caution. Why? Because we have a powerful theory that says otherwise. It's not a matter of blind dogma to say that neutrinos can't exceed the speed of light, it's the result of a powerful theory that will require more than one experiment to topple. To put it another way, let's trace the story backwards: These neutrinos seemed to be travelling faster than the speed of light, which is supposed to be impossible according to the theory of relativity, which is not something that Einstein simply cogitated one day. The theory of relativity is built on the nature of electromagnetic waves, which are themselves a result of Maxwell's equations, which are built upon centuries of experiments. (I refer to the timespan not to say that we should favor old over new, but to contrast the amount of experimental support.)

So will this confirmation of electromagnetic theory result in a greater appreciation of theory for the common culture? Probably not. But at least theorists have a good recent example of the power of their work.

The kind of books we need right now

I receive a number of wall posts on facebook with recommendations or queries about whether I’ve read a certain book relating Christianity to science. Some are theologically conservative, some liberal; some are Scripture-based, some science-based, and some philosophy-based; some address the higher education setting, and some grade school; some take the tactic of setting up a conversation between “science” and “religion,” while others take a very hostile stand behind their well-drawn lines.



I’ll admit: I haven’t read most of these books. But I do think they all have something important in common: They’re not what we need right now.


Take, for example, a recent recommendation: Tipler’s The Physics of Christianity. The book description on amazon reads:

A highly respected physicist demonstrates that the essential beliefs of Christianity are wholly consistent with the laws of physics.


Frank Tipler takes an exciting new approach to the age-old dispute about the relationship between science and religion in The Physics of Christianity. In reviewing centuries of writings and discussions, Tipler realized that in all the debate about science versus religion, there was no serious scientific research into central Christian claims and beliefs. So Tipler embarked on just such a scientific inquiry. The Physics of Christianity presents the fascinating results of his pioneering study.

Tipler begins by outlining the basic concepts of physics for the lay reader and brings to light the underlying connections between physics and theology. In a compelling example, he illustrates how the God depicted by Jews and Christians, the Uncaused First Cause, is completely consistent with the Cosmological Singularity, an entity whose existence is required by physical law. His discussion of the scientific possibility of miracles provides an impressive, credible scientific foundation for many of Christianity’s most astonishing claims, including the Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, and the Incarnation. He even includes specific outlines for practical experiments that can help prove the validity of the “miracles” at the heart of Christianity.


Tipler’s thoroughly rational approach and fully accessible style sets The Physics of Christianity apart from other books dealing with conflicts between science and religion. It will appeal not only to Christian readers, but also to anyone interested in an issue that triggers heated and divisive intellectual and cultural debates.

Aside from the Babel fish argument, here's my issue with works like this: "he illustrates how the God depicted by Jews and Christians, the Uncaused First Cause, is completely consistent with the Cosmological Singularity, an entity whose existence is required by physical law." Physical law "requires" the existence of just about (and probably absolutely) nothing. I'm no cosmologist, but a quick literature search for "cosmological singularity" (whatever it is; again, I'm no cosmologist) shows that its necessity is far from certain in the physics community, but this author thinks it sounds like Christianity, so he latches onto it with unwarranted certainty. (Granted, Tipler has published about the cosmological singularity, so his subscription to it as a true idea is understandable to some degree.)

(By the way, Reasons to Believe does the exact same thing with Scripture: Whatever verses sound like physical law, they say, must have definitive physical significance, while neighboring verses that almost seem to contradict physical law must be metaphorical.)


What I think we really need at this point is an agreed-upon framework of Christian scholarship that can direct our investigations and undergird our discussions. Is it Christ-like, for example, to co-opt an uncertain and unproven physical theory (in this case, the cosmological singularity) to give the Christian masses an artificial sense of certainty? What happens, then, when that physical theory is definitively disproven? Didn't the church do the same thing when it latched onto Aristotelian astronomy that placed the earth at the center of the universe and the planets and sun in perfectly circular orbits? That certainly didn't end well.


I'm not saying a study like Tipler's isn't worthwhile, and I'm not saying you shouldn't buy his book. I applaud what I think are his genuine intentions to encourage Christians and heal some of the damage between Christianity and science. But I think that a healthy framework of Christian scholarship is a prerequisite to studies such as this one. The damage is not just a conceptual discord between a few tenants of Christianity and a few scientific principles; there is also a vast intellectual, emotional, and cultural rift between the university and the church (which are both rifted from the main culture) that requires some serious structural undergirding if it's ever going to be bridged. I think that framework can be developed (if Christian scholars will put their minds and hearts and publications to it) and I think that rift can be bridged with that framework as a foundation.
 
What needs to go in that framework? What kinds of foundational questions about Christian scholarship do we need to address to make works like Tipler's timely? Well... what do you think?

Ideas That Have Ruined Me: Criticality and Doubt

1.5 weeks without a post? Beginning a sentence--nay, a blog entry--with a number? It must be mid-term...

I posted earlier that one of the ideas that have ruined me is the importance of criticality and doubt in thinking.

I discovered this importance in Pascal's reason-based doubt-proof-submission paradigm outlined in the Pensees. He argues that reason employs the tactics of doubt (trying to disprove something that seems dubious or potentially dangerous to believe - the tool of the skeptic), proof (trying to concretely and inescapably affirm something that seems intuitively reasonable or advantageous to believe - the tool of the mathematician), and submission (accepting a truth by faith - the tool of the theist); to abandon one or two of these tools would result in philosophical shipwreck.

(Note: Given this scheme, "doubt" is not equivalent to "unbelief"---which the Bible identifies as the root of all sin---but simply a questioning of validity. A Christian would certainly want to "doubt" a heretical statement, in that sense. It's more closely akin to modern-day "critical thinking.")

What has struck me as I thought about this paradigm over the last few years is that I have neglected the discipline of doubt for most of my life. (I always dreaded those "critical thinking" questions in English class growing up.)

Now, I can't stop questioning ideas, be they about physics, theology, or how to best carry my books on my way to class!

Even this week, I've spent a good three hours brain-dead over how to prove to my class a simple physics principle used in every introductory textbook. (I'm omitting the particular details here partly out of a desire for relevance and partly out of embarrassment.) I keep reexamining the argument critically, and can't seem to escape!

But this is where the submission comes in: Because of God's commitment to me, I believe I will escape the circle of doubt. (Well, at least over important things; I suppose it doesn't matter if I swim in doubt over unimportant things. --> There - I doubted my own statement again!)

Which tool of Pascal's trifecta have you ignored? Which have you overused?

The Moral Dimension of the Mind, a la Sire

I've been rereading Sire's Habits of the Mind, and just finished his challenging Chapter 5: The Moral Dimension of the Mind. In it, he lays down the truth that should haunt all Christians:


We only know/believe what we obey. Or, we are responsible for living based on what we know.


Thus, Christian intellectuals bear a great deal of responsibility.

Here is the great dichotomy that I found on this reread:


We fail in our responsibility as Christian intellectuals, and so Christian intellectualism needs the gospel. But living out the gospel (the actions he describes as aspiration--setting our minds on what is good--and mortification--denying our flesh) requires Christian thinking (and therefore Christian intellectualism). Each necessitates the other.


In general, in fact, the only way to respond to the gospel is in obedience, and the only way to obey is to believe the gospel.


But what does all of this have to do with being a Christian physicist? I came up with a few answers...

• I need to connect physics to worship.
• I am a teacher, and not just a physicist. (This thought also led me to consider the differences between the terms "physics teacher," "physicist teacher," and "teacher physicist." I'll tease out those differences in another post some day...) I need to value my students, their learning, and their future.
• Physics is applied to help creation. (I normally say, "help humanity," but with all the thoughts of the oil spill floating around in my head, and my multi-year-long fascination with the Cultural Mandate in Genesis 1, it occurred to me that I needed to expand my understanding of my own sphere of responsibility. Again, probably more about this in a future post...)

Summertime

...and the bloggin is easy. Apparently not, since I haven't posted most of this month! I think I'll post sporadically over the summer. It's been a good year but my brain is tired...

A few personal updates:

• My five year anniversary with Amy Lane is this Friday!
• I started teaching Aviation Physics as a hybrid course last week. I've never taught (or seen) a hybrid introductory physics course. So far it's going well. (Of course, we haven't hit free-body diagrams yet...)
• I'm listening through Beethoven's Symphonies, as conducted by Leonard Bernstein. I'm halfway through #5, and find it sad that the second movement is so often upstaged by the first.
• I'm trying something very different in my Electromagnetic Theory I course in the Fall; more on that later...
• I'm re-reading Sire's Habits of the Mind. As always, when I re-read a book, I find myself wondering why I highlighted some of the things I did, and why I didn't highlight others. Sire & Newman are right: The mind is like a mountain climber...

See you around!

A Journey into a Christian Physicist's Mind

I go through nearly the same line of thinking every time I hear or sing "God of Wonders" in church. It goes something like this:

First, I wonder if other Christians expect this to be my favorite worship song. I am a physicist, and the song is about God reigning over the universe. It's a good song, I tell myself, but not necessarily my favorite. Should it be my favorite?

Then, I move on to think that no, it's not my favorite; it's not even about my line of physics, after all. I don't really know that much about astrophysics or cosmology.

This is sometimes followed by a distraction into thinking about my friends in grad school who studied astrophysics or cosmology, or a distraction into thinking about my own field of study, in which case Hamiltonians and conductances and double-quantum-dot diagrams float around in my head. This may be followed by a brief sense of panic---I did actually graduate, didn't I? My Ph.D. defense wasn't just a dream, right?

After that distraction, I return to my original distraction with a little bit of unrest: Why aren't there any worship songs about condensed matter physics? Why don't we sing about God reigning over atoms and quarks and wave functions and strings? I might even try thinking of a few lines for such a song.

This is sometimes followed by a distraction into thinking about how the indeterminate nature of quantum mechanics might harmonize with the notion of a sovereign God. This, of course, gets me nowhere.

I then return to my original distraction, chiding myself for being so petty. I shouldn't let myself be distracted during worship! This is a nice song. We used to sing it all the time at my church in grad school... until we sang it for five weeks in a row one time, and we never seemed to sing it again after that.

The last time we sang it there, I recall, was just after the Space Shuttle Columbia exploded. One of the astronauts on board was a Christian, and his family had requested this song as one of the crew's wake-up calls.

It's at this point that I'm a little teary and a little sobered about my petty distractions. Aren't there so many more serious things out there? All right God, I silently pray, I'm free of distractions, and ready to worship!

It's at that moment that the song ends.

Happy 50th blog entry!

Undergraduate Corner: When Do We Stop Cheering?

On this blog, the first and third Tuesday of each month are dedicated to presenting discussion geared toward undergraduate students, in a series called, "Undergraduate Corner."

As a physicist, I'm interested in phase transitions (such as the melting of ice into water or a substance beginning to superconduct), and I see the evidence of a phase transition at every college sporting event I attend: Students scream at the top of their lungs to support their team and distract their opponents (or, in the case of the game I attended last night, harass the coach hysterically), while alumni sit stoically, perhaps clapping when their team takes the lead.

I see the evidence of this phase transition, but have no idea how or when it occurs.

When do these students stop cheering? When do they stop being a vital part of their team's success and turn into silent observers? And, more importantly, why?

We could ask the same question of Christians who lose their fire. When (and why) do we stop cheering on the progress of the gospel? When (and why) do we become silent observers? When (and why) do we begin to care more about what we'll eat for lunch after church than who we can stop and take time to minister to?

I'm writing this as part of Undegraduate Corner because, for far too many Christians, this phase transition occurs either during college, or shortly thereafter. Let's pray that we'll remember that the Christian life is a marathon and a relay race, but not a sprint.

Why I Dislike Memorization

One of my favorites aspects of physics is that it requires very little memorization. In fact, if you spend your time in a physics class (intro, upper-level undergraduate, or graduate) memorizing the material, you'll most likely fail the exam. I'm a big fan of open-book open-notes exams because it allows the student to show how well she understands the material---i.e., how closely she has come to personally know, internalize, and relate to it. Learning physics is about personally owning the material, not memorizing facts, numbers, or equations.

Of course, you inevitably come to memorize some things. But even when I recite an equation or derivation from memory, I'm always checking it for reasonableness, making sure the dimensions are correct, and analyzing it to see if there's a better way to express or write it. It's never a rote memorization and regurgitation. That's what makes it beautiful and exciting.

I feel much the same way about memorizing Scripture.

I dislike rotely memorizing verses. Doing so doesn't help me understand them---again, meaning to closely know, internalize, and relate to them. I'd rather personally own the truth, instead of memorizing without understanding.

I think 1 John 2:24 illustrates this contrast well:

See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father

John wants the truth of the gospel to remain in them, in the same way that they remain in the Son and in the Father. This is more than memorization of facts and verses---just like us remaining in Jesus is more than Jesus "memorizing" us.

How have you experienced the difference between memorizing and understanding? How do you think we can pursue both to foster our growth as believers?