The Marvel of Physics

My first day of AP Physics was a day fraught with anticipation and galore.  The room was packed as I walked in and I made my way to an available seat in the rear corner.  One’s immediate observation upon entry would have been the room’s blazing humidity—nearly 40 sweaty, densely-jumbled teenagers and not a single window of relief from the August sun. And then it began.

“Happy Monday, everybody!” interjected our instructor as he darted across the room.  He then made his way to the front of the class and proceeded to elaborate upon the details of the class—the curriculum, the rigor, and the mentality required to excel.  Physics, as conventionally known, is the study of the universe, the field of Einstein.  For the first time in my 11 years of schooling, the mechanics of light, electricity, gravity, and sound were to be demystified.

A special emphasis was placed on the course’s learning curve.  There would be plateaus and valleys; students would struggle a majority of the time before being able to effectively synthesize all of the information.  These connections are called dendrites, as the instructor explained, and they occur when neurons connect across the synapse, bringing information to one’s brain cells.

As presumed, the class size dwindled down quickly within the first few weeks as students flocked out.  The motivation required to succeed was exhausting, especially for one involved in numerous extra-curricular activities.  It was my first year in an Advanced Placement class and therefore, my first year working at the collegiate level.  I found myself staying after school for hours on end, seeking answers and explanations to the new concepts.

It was said that the best way to learn physics was to make mistakes.  In doing so, I learned to manipulate numbers and variables in ways never imagined.  Each number had meaning—a concrete, real-world significance and application.  Indeed, it was my experience in AP Physics which broadened my mind and opened it to the wonder and fascination of science.

Albert Einstein has been quoted saying, “The pursuit of truth and beauty is a sphere of activity in which we are permitted to remain children all our lives.”  The beauty of science is that its core principle is the pursuit of truth, using the power of the human acumen.  It is only through cognition of the universe that one may marvel at the meticulous order of the macrocosm—even while taking into account the constantly-acting law of entropy descending upon all matter.

Science, in conjunction with anthropological context, allows one to see how far the human species has come.  Mankind has not only walked on the moon, but successfully harnessed energy from the wind and the sun to craft tools of our disposition.  It has only been a century since the Wright brothers became the first men to achieve airborne flight in 1903.  Furthermore, physics allows mankind a scope of where humanity is headed.  Will the universe suffer an inevitable heat death?  Will it succumb to the Big Crunch theory?  Or, in a closer approximation, it may be asked—will I live to witness the confirmation of a unified field theory?

In AP Physics, I struggled and I thrived.  I found myself dismally attempting initial examinations, exerting tremendous effort to correctly answer the given problems, only to have one more test page left unanswered at the culmination of the period.  By the end of the semester, I would finish my tests with a half-hour left to spare and receive scores ranging above 90.  I ended the semester with an A+ in AP Physics, reflective of the efforts spent.

The Khmer Lady

From time to time, I’ve had a routine of volunteering at my local adult school’s ESL Civics department. There, I would assist people along the roadway to legal American citizenship. Plus, I got to use my linguistic capabilities so that was always fun. I performed translations, elaborated on the facets of American history and government, and worked menial tasks.

Before last week, I haven’t been to the adult school in months due to personal obligations and general laziness. However, I was specially asked to attend last Thursday by a teacher there. A new student was present, one who spoke very little English and was a native of Cambodia.

I went and found the student not in the Asian corner as expected, but seated towards the front of the room, amidst Hispanics. After all, what was the use of grouping up according to geographical boundaries if one didn’t share a common language? I introduced myself and found the lady to have a very soft voice, perhaps reflective of a fatigue garnered from life.

I helped her pronounce and translate some of the formalities of the naturalization process, but pretty soon, she was telling me about her life. It didn’t surprise me either–a person who speaks both Khmer and English to a proficient standard is rare nowadays.

She has lived in California for six years. Her family used to own a donut shop, but the retail space was purchased by a Quizno’s after two years. Around that time, the landlord of her home had increased the rent and her family had to find a new place to live. The family relocated, but unemployment was still an issue. The lady’s daughter, who is currently pregnant, works at Target’s cafeteria. Her son-in-law works in airport, with shift being 3 am- 3 pm, considering the one hour commute time.

None of these struggles are new. As tragic as they are, everyone’s accustomed to hearing of similar burdens, considering our current economic recession. What sets this lady apart is that she has no one. I already mentioned how rare it is for a person to be proficient in both Khmer and English. Within lady’s own family, the adults speak only Khmer and the children have had opportunities to study English since they were in Cambodia, but no longer retain fluency in Khmer due to their schooling. There is no large or organized Cambodian community in this area.

Furthermore, the lady has a mother in Cambodia who is very ill. She is the only one with the ability to take care of her–all of her siblings had passed away during the brutal Pol Pot regime in the 1970s. Every so often, she has to go to Cambodia to take care of her mother, though she may not stay longer than a period of three months without risking her permanent resident status. In the last 6 years, she has spent over 450 days outside of the United States.

I don’t mean for this to be a sob story, but it has had a deep affect on me. It was an eye opener to the situation of people who come to this nation in pursuit of personal freedoms. There are many stories out there which are sure to be much more horrific. The lady’s struggles were in spite of the fact that she was educated. She had received over 10 years of instruction and could read French during a time in which many in her country haven’t had any schooling and couldn’t even read their native Khmer.

The teacher  who had asked me to come says that I probably have made a deeper impact than I know on the woman simply because I was there. Suffering is an internal part of the human experience. What may one person do to help relieve the sorrows or struggles of the next?

A Funeral Oration

When I heard the news that Grandma had passed away, I had no words to say. I was speechless, astonished. Then, when I was alone, I prayed. I prayed for Grandma of course as we had been doing in the temple for seven days already, but I also thought about what she had left behind—four children who had to survived to give her eight grandchildren. I prayed that we would continue by honoring her memory through being good to each other in through this rough time and all rough times to come. I prayed that God would grant me the strength and compassion to get through this season. I prayed that God would grant my parents a firmness in order to elevate and uplift souls. I prayed for my younger cousins, as well as my older cousins, who had not yet witnessed the extent of the world’s sorrows. I prayed that God would shield and protect my aunts and uncles, survivors of a genocide which had wiped out one quarter of our homeland’s population, that they would hold their heads up high, never to be ashamed or regretful of the past, but instead to cherish these memories which we have been so blessed to accumulate. Looking back, I see that God has answered my prayers. During this past week, we’ve really come together as a family, being there with one another no matter how much it hurts. Even we though we’ve had our Christmas ruined by this news, we’ve stuck together and made it. This is what would have made Grandma proud. She loved nothing more than to see the bright faces of her family, staying strong and helping eachother. This is what Grandma has left us with—eachother.

A New Quest Begins…

After a brief stint on tubmlr, I conceived the notion that it was time to move on. I had to take blog to new horizons, horizons which were bigger, bolder, and badder. I found tumblr to be too juvenile and mindless–a place where people do nothing but reblog amusing gifs and beg everyone to follow them. I hope to make out of this blog a space where I may clear my thoughts and get them out in the open for the whole world. I like poetry, foreign languages, religions, and general teenage trash. Who knows, they may even be collected and made into a book of memoirs documenting my adolescent experience one day in the distant future. I would like to end with a stanza I wrote regarding the merits of writing.

In writing, I find incredible wealth.

Amassed treasures, opened and oxidated.

Let rise what was formerly sedated.

That’s right, I find myself.