Tuesday, June 5, 2018

Valedictorian Speech


For my English class, our final project was to draft an address to our class, as if we were the valedictorian of our year, addressing the audience at our commencement ceremony. With said ceremony looming so near on the horizon, I thought it'd be appropriate to share what I'd written.



So. Here we are. I’m sure many of you have heard commencement speeches before. They all go something along the lines of: today marks the start of a new chapter, or today is the opening of a new door. And it’s true. Today we embrace beginnings.

At this time, while we stand one step away from the future, we also reflect on our experiences, our memories, our friends. We reflect on the Friday night football games, the relief of submitting final college applications, and what seems like a thousand days in the sun in the quad during lunch. It didn’t take any time for everything to become last: our last year, our last school dance, our last day.

Be understanding. Seek understanding. I think that those two phrases sum up what we have learned, out of all the textbooks and Sparknotes and group-chats that we’ve scoured these past four years.

Be understanding.

Understand that so often we structure our lives around the next deadline or class period or even Instagram post, it becomes easy to forget to enjoy the little things -- like sitting in the sun or enjoying an old song on the radio. We so often anticipate the next moment that we forget about this one.

Understand that while today is the open door, every day is a new day. If you put your hand over your heart and feel that pulse, every beat is a new chapter. An opportunity.

Seek understanding.

Why do so few people walk across the grass of the quad even though it’s the quickest way across campus? Why do we know more about outer space than our oceans? How can you predict that perfect moment at a bonfire where everyone laughs really, really hard at a good joke? How can you balance between living in the moment and planning for the future? Ask yourself questions. Wonder. Maybe you’ll stumble upon an old memory. Or maybe a new opportunity, a new discovery.

We walked from the math building to the bungalows to the parking lot every day for four years. Individually, each day seemed monotonous, and yet -- during our senior year, I found myself lingering in the sun at lunch to watch the freshmen go to class. Thinking that one day, it’d be the last time.

So enjoy the sun. Linger. Wonder about the grass and why no one walks on it. Remember that you only have so many days left.

And if inspiration happens to strike -- whether it be for a song or a science experiment or a new goal -- understand that that is your new door. No matter how high that mountain may seem, no matter how rigorous a course-load may be, embrace that challenge. Seek meaningful work. Take that opportunity to look forward, towards the future.

Thank you, and congratulations!


Monday, June 4, 2018

The Inner Workings (Anecdotes from “Freakonomics” & “Outliers”)



Image result for sound of thunder
A Sound of Thunder

“So inscrutable is the arrangement of causes and consequences in this world that a two-penny duty on tea, unjustly imposed in a sequestered part of it, changes the condition of all its inhabitants,” said Thomas Jefferson while reflecting on the effects of a seemingly inconsequential tea tax in colonial America, which then led to the Boston Tea Party, and, consequently, the American Revolution.

Big things have small beginnings. The avalanche effect. A multitude of things led to the separation of American from Britain, which seem only mostly clear, even in now retrospect. The cumulative effect of everything happening in our world, all at once, seems impossible to calculate.

From short stories about the unfathomable consequences of time travel (“A Sound of Thunder,” by Ray Bradbury, perhaps?) to suave explanations of chaos theory from a black leather-clad mathematician (Jurassic Park)1, I think it’s say to safe that humans are interested in our, for the most part, inability to predict the future in complex, multifaceted systems -- like the weather, politics, and the economy.

In Freakonomics, authors Dubner and Levitt explore such convoluted relations in regards to personal motives and incentives.

In the first chapter of Freakonomics, our authors tell the story of motivation and prediction.

A common struggle for many school teachers, especially for those teaching younger grades, is dealing with parents. In particular, parents who come to pick up their students late. It makes sense: teachers are paid to work set hours, and parents who come to pick up their students late essentially force teachers to work for free out of hours.

To study this, a study was conducted in an Israeli daycare.

For the first few weeks, scientists only observed the parents coming to pick up their children. A small and consistent number of parents came late to pick up their students. After the fifth week, the researchers implemented a fine: 3 dollars for every time parents were late to pick up students. Though seemingly low, the fines accrued to nearly 400 dollars a month.

What did the researchers find?

After a few weeks, the number of parents who came late to pick up their students actually increased after the fine was implemented -- counterintuitive, I know.

Let’s go through with Dubner and Levitt.

According to them, economy is the “study of incentives: how people get what they want, or need, especially when other people want or need the same things” (16). And incentives are broken down into three main groups: economic, social, and moral.

In the case of the Israeli study, parents were offered a monetary, economic incentive to pick up their students: not paying a fine. However, the other incentives (because, presumably, you -- like me -- predicted that the parents would further refrain from picking up students late in order to avoid a fine) were not taken into consideration. In the case of the Israeli study, firstly, $3 is much cheaper than a babysitter. Secondly, the economic price paid also paid off social guilt: parents did not feel as guilty when arriving late since they paid for their mistakes.

It’s always interesting to look at success stories. To wonder how business tycoons make their wealth, how geniuses like Elon Musk and Bill Gates have their beginnings.

Canadian journalist and author Malcolm Gladwell examines such wonderings in Canadian hockey players in his book Outliers.

In Canada, the cut-off for hockey players’ birthdays is January 1. So you have to join an age group in the beginning, and are judged based on your peers in that group. Potential hockey players from  before kindergarten are grouped like this. Every year, the more talented players are selected to progress onto higher levels. Gladwell describes Canadian hockey as a meritocracy: if you’re good, you move onto better groups. Your success only relies on individual merit and ability and tenacity.

Supposedly.

A snapshot of a high league hockey game, except with the names of players replaced with their birthdays: March 11 starts around one side of the Tigers’ nest, leaving the puck for his teammate January 4, who passes it to January 22, who flips it back to March 12, who shoots at the Tigers’ goalie, April 27. April 27 blocks, but the shot’s rebounded by Vancouver’s March 6. He shoots! Defensemen February 9 and February 14 dive to block the puck while January 10 looks on helplessly.

If you’d looked at the birthdays of players in a high-end game, you’d see they all have very early birthdays.

Why is that?

Because when you have a group, if a player is born January 2 versus a player born December 31, the player in January at the age of five is more developed, mentally, physically, socially, and has every bit of advantage over a smaller almost four-year old. A coach looks at the group and sees the January player as better, chooses him for a better league. There he gets more attention, more time on the ice, more training. By the time the older kid turns six, he’ll have almost twice as much practice as his younger competitor, and therefore a higher chance of getting picked for a better team the following year. And the advantage continues, accumulates, snowballs. This is the phenomenon of relative age. Of course the kid is a decent hockey player to begin with, but he has that extra practice, that extra mentoring and support that adds up up up.

Gladwell adds in a footnote that this is an example of “self-fulfilling procephy.” Essentially, these players born in the beginning of the calendar year are told they are more talented, supported and expected to be better. They begin with a “false definition,” -- a proposition that they are more talented than their peers when really they may only have the advantage of age and development -- which leads to a new behavior, new environment, that, actually, makes “the original false conception come true.” This perpetuates a false assumption, since the prediction becomes true, though not necessarily in the way one may expect.

We all love the story of rags to riches, a “self-made man,” but the truth is, there are always factors we overlook, always small advantages that a tycoon has.

I end this post with an except from Outliers:

People don’t rise from nothing. We do owe something to parentage and patronage. The people who stand before kings may look like they did it all by themselves. But in fact they are invariably the beneficiaries of hidden advantages and extraordinary opportunities and culture legacies that allow them to learn and work hard and make sense of the world in ways others cannot. It makes a difference where and when we grew up. The culture we belong to and the legacies passed down by our forebears shape the patterns of our achievements in ways we cannot begin to imagine. It’s not enough to ask what successful people are like, in other words. It’s only by asking where they are from that we can unravel the logic behind who succeeds and who doesn’t.
Biologists often talk about the “ecology” of an organism: the tallest oak in the forest is the tallest not just because it grew from the hardiest acorn; it is the tallest also because no other trees blocked its sunlight, the soil around it was deep and rich, no rabbit chewed through its bark as a sapling, and no lumberjack cut it down before it matured. We all know that successful people come from hardy seeds. But do we know enough about the sunlight that warmed them, the soil in which they put down their roots, and the rabbits and lumberjacks they were lucky enough to avoid?

1 Chaos theory was actually formulated by an MIT professor who attempted to simulate weather (he was a meteorologist). When inputting numbers into his system, he found varying results even though he’d submitted the same numbers twice. Upon closer inspection, the professor realized that he had rounded to a different decimal place than before, which resulted in a slightly different answer. From this insight, professor Lorenz formulated chaos theory, claiming that slight variations in initial conditions in complex systems lead to enormous consequences in the future. “Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.”