“Can anyone tell me what Einstein’s Nobel Prize was for?”
Everyone was silent. She wasn’t sure. It was in physics, she knew that much. Her science education was limited to ping-pong ball experiments in her high school AP class. But Bailey had majored in physics. She snuck a glance at him.
Bailey wore a reluctant look. He never spoke in class, but it seemed he couldn’t let the question go unanswered. “The photoelectric effect, which led to the discovery of quantum physics.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Blake said. “Can you tell us what it means in layman’s terms?”
Bailey leaned forward. Clearly this subject interested him. It drew him into the discussion he’d so long avoided, and in a sudden flash of insight, Erin wondered if Blake had done this on purpose. The one student who’d resisted participation, besides her, and Blake had hit upon a subject important to him.
“In the old days,” Bailey explained, “matter was made of particles and light was made up of waves. But during experiments with ultraviolet light, they determined that wave theory didn’t account for certain behavior. Einstein was the one who suggested that light was, in fact, particles as well.”
Blake nodded. “There were physicists and scholars with full knowledge of how things worked. Knowledge wasn’t enough. It would never have been enough to make that leap. Only imagination was enough. Bailey, how can you tell whether something is a particle or a wave?”
“You can’t. If you measure it as a particle, it’s a particle. If you measure it as a wave, it’s a wave.”
“In fact, it goes a step further. If you want to examine an electron, you must basically throw a photon at it, thus changing its course. It’s called the observer effect. Science 101. And we’re scientists too, just on the social scale. Can you think of an example of the observer effect in the social sciences?”
“When reporters embed themselves in a military unit,” someone offered. “That unit might behave differently under scrutiny, thus affecting the outcome of their missions.”
“Excellent. What else?”
Another raised his hand briefly before speaking. “Kids have to take standardized tests in school. At first it was to measure their progress, but now teachers have to teach specifically for the test.”
“Yes, right. The act of measuring has affected the primary source.”
“The help,” Erin offered blandly. “The presence of a maid might change the behavior of the household members.”
His lip twitched. “Very much so.” He paused, looking distant. “This is the last day of class, so I need to tell you that you are all activists. Each one of you and every person you pass on the street. Even if you sit back and hope someone else will fix the problem. You can’t ignore the problems in the world. Your inaction is action. If you see the problem, if you’re observing it, you’re already having an effect. The only question is what that effect will be.”
“I’ve always been a fan of throwing photons, myself,” one boy quipped, and there were snorts and chuckles around the room.
Blake smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “This is our last class. And so what I want to tell you, the most important lesson I can teach you, is to respect the people who disagree with you. They are the ones who challenge you. And even if you are right, so are they. If you measure it as a particle, it’s a particle. If you measure it as a wave, it’s a wave. Both sides are right. Respect that. Learn from it. Find the common ground, because that’s where the true answer lies.”
Chapter Five
Erin
The end of semester
Erin’s thesis defense took two hours, longer than she’d been expecting.
Everyone on the panel had asked thoughtful, curious questions about her research, her assumptions, her methods. She had expected to feel interrogated, or worse, accused. Like one of the women who spoke up, only to be faced with society’s ridicule. Instead she’d stood in front of these professors, these experts and thought leaders, and felt like an equal.
It was heady and terrifying.
Grades were in, and the panel would make their recommendation. She wouldn’t find out the results until later; however, she wasn’t worried about either. She had worked her ass off on both her paper for Blake’s class and her thesis.
She knew in her bones that they were good.
Melinda caught up with her in the hallway. “Erin, can I speak with you a moment?”
Dread sank in her stomach. The woman had been very quiet during the defense. She had asked a few questions which were direct but not cruel.
Erin had hoped that would be the end of it.
Taking a fortifying breath, she turned to face the other woman.
Melinda grimaced slightly, as if she knew about Erin’s discomfort—and felt bad about it. “You were great in there. I’m serious. Your research was stronger than a number of doctoral papers I’ve seen. And the topic is important.”