Skip to main content

Youngest Sibling

Youngest Sibling

There is (or was, a few years ago) a thing called “the youngest sibling effect” – or something like that. The idea is that the oldest is smart: he has to teach the second, and the second has to teach the third, on down to the last. * They all learn, because you have to put your thoughts in order to explain things. The last one has no one to teach, so doesn’t learn so well. The nuclear physicist Richard Feynman touched on then this when he said that if you couldn’t explain a concept to a fairly bright high school student, you didn’t understand it yourself. It’s an old concept. Heinlein uses it in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. The protagonist hires a teacher whose first question is, “Well, what are we going to learn this time?”
I Have also had it happen to me. I was with this fairly bright administrator at work and commented that it was pretty neat that you could just look at heavy equipment axle assemblies and know how many planetary gears each one had—large ones, four, smaller ones only three – just by counting the bosses on the outside of the castings. Then I had to explain why you need planetary gears on the axles instead of just one really big ring and pinion.
The thing about that is, I didn’t fully understand it myself until I put it into words.
*This doesn’t apply to my younger brother, who was simply unteachable.

Steve Coquet
12/02/2017

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

White Face

White Face,  William Caldwell            a flash memoir  I’m on my way to interview Frankie Randle. She is an Aid to the Disabled client of my colleague Bob. I cover for him when he is out of the office. When he gets a call she is in the lobby asking for him, Bob’s usual smile slouches to a grimace. He groans; picks up his note pad and releases a long, thick breath that wants to unravel the tapestry of his chest. Slumping past rows of desks and across the office, he trudges down three flights of stairs to the interview room. On his return, he usually wears a deeper slouch along with a thin, sour, scowl. Although my desk is next to his, I never listen to Bob’s debrief with the boss to get any details. The one time I do ask about her, he scoffs, raises his eyebrows, gives me a blank face and turns to stare out the window, searching for a glimpse of the placid bay, I expect. Since Bob is on vacation, it’s my turn. When the call comes, I ru...
1 comment
Read more

Making Diamonds

William Caldwell December 30, 2017 Seventeen-fifty-four, where was George Washington then? Stretching his chains and rods in the Cumberland? Preparing for the lead up to the French and Indian War? I forget the exact dates of his involvement in either endeavor. G. W., my hero who was he and how was he forming the consciousness and presence to become the Constitutional Congresses military arm, desirous of leading the nascent nation into battle against the red coated menace. They say he strode about the meeting hall in uniform, rampant, ready to stand in the face of the Brit and Crown. Yes, how does one make oneself? As for me I have spent a lot of time looking into the face of children. They light my world – which I must say, is sorely needed since too much of the remainder of my day is spent in the dark tunnels of a mirror, a black slated glass some days, a black velvet drape others, a black maw, a black orchid, a black whatever, black anything. It only need be black because at t...
Post a Comment
Read more