Textbook Solicitation: The Old, The New and The Ugly

Today must be a special day. I received three different textbook solicitations. (I haven’t had any in the last four weeks since classes started.) The three soliciting strategies were rather different from one another.

Let’s start with the Old. I was sent (unsolicited, of course) a physical textbook in my subdiscipline of chemistry. It was a gratis copy. This has happened ever since I started my job as a professor although the frequency has decreased over the years. Perhaps the old school strategy (pre-internet) is losing its effectiveness.

Before I start with the New, let me describe the more popular method in recent years. I receive a targeted e-mail asking me if I’d like to review a book for potential adoption in one of my classes. An input code allows me free 30-day access to an online version. This is also what happens if I solicit the publisher to review a potential text.

But what was New today is that I first got an unsolicited phone call from Large Publishing Company. They wanted to know if I was interested in reviewing a textbook for potential adoption in one of my classes. The name of the book suggested it wouldn’t fit as well, and I told the caller so. The caller said that I might potentially use it as a reference, and if they could send it to me. Suspecting some string attached, I asked what I needed to do if it was sent. The caller said I wouldn’t have to do anything – it would just be provided free electronically. If I didn’t want to use it, that would be fine. I said, okay, that seems reasonable. Then I was told that what I would actually be provided is 30-day access. I replied that it was unlikely I would review it in that time period so there was no need to send me access. The caller pleasantly thanked me and the conversation ended. Three hours later, I get an e-mail with links to access the book. I delete it.

And now the Ugly. I had an l unsolicited e-mail from Chegg. This is a first for me. They must have a new strategy with a bot that trolls through web pages, because the information was from one of my P-Chem courses from five years ago regarding a textbook that I’m no longer using. The e-mail was also sent at 4am according to the time stamp.

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Dear Dr. [my first name],

I notice you mentioned [textbook name, first half chopped off] by [author names, second author name partially chopped off] on your [course name] web page [URL], and I thought your students might like to know that they can actually rent that book at Chegg for far less. Additionally Chegg offers a resource that can help students with their studies for that textbook.

Chegg Study provides students with self-guided learning tools through instant access to millions of step-by-step tutorials, and Q&A boards monitored by professors and trusted subject experts. Perfect for when students get stuck during late night study sessions, or when office hours are over. Over 90% of students who use Chegg Study say it helped them improve their grades and better understand the material.

I hope you’ll consider where they can find study help for the book: [Link to the solutions manual, I’ll describe this in more detail shortly.]

I bet your students would appreciate saving money on their textbooks so I’ll also provide a link to where students can rent the book for your course: [Link to textbook rental]

Together, let’s help students save time and money while they improve their academic outcomes!

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Why is this Ugly? It’s because of the very last line claiming to help students improve their academic outcomes. I have no problem with textbook rental. The problem is the way the solutions manual is provided. The student would save time, but not money – and it’s bad for their learning. I learned about Chegg many moons ago, from students. They explained to me how it worked, and how they have used it for some of their “hard science or math classes”. In P-Chem, which is hard and has lots of math, the way you best learn the material is to struggle through working problems. By looking up the solutions manual, students short-circuit their learning process. My syllabus prohibits the use of a solutions manual, and I explain in detail to my class why.

However, I also understand that a student under stress can make bad decisions in the heat of the moment. Therefore, I make it clear to the students that if they used or consulted a solutions manual, to simply not turn in the problem set. Turning in the problem set is optional – I grade it if turned in. If not, that small grade percentage is lumped into the next exam for a student who didn’t turn in one. Since it is still early in the semester, the vast majority of the students are turning in problem sets. (I take the time to explain why this is important for learning, and how it will help them when they prepare for the exams.) So far I’ve had many students come to office hours for help on their problem set – a good sign early in the semester.

Chegg provides a sample solution when you click on the link for “study help”. At least a number of years ago, the system was such that you got something like one free “solution” (i.e. to one question) for some period of time (maybe a month) and that you had to pay per piece if you wanted more. There was probably also a tiered subscription for X number of solutions for Y price; I haven’t checked recently so this might be outdated data. And some students are willing to take this “shortcut”. However they don’t do well on the exams if they haven’t put in the time to struggle through the material – and worse, the solutions manual is sometimes wrong or misleading. It’s the most error-prone part of supplementary information attached to a textbook. I know, because it’s one of the ways you can catch students who use this strategy.

I will certainly not be forwarding Chegg’s e-mail to my students. Chances are they know all about it already. I hope none of them short-circuit their learning. As to whether one should be using a textbook and its associated problems, here's an old musing.

G-Chem Elements Theme Update

We’ve just finished Week Four of the semester. Here’s what I’ve been doing with my Elements theme in General Chemistry. On the first day, the students introduced themselves by picking a “favorite” element and saying a few words about their choice. Admittedly, this was probably a little forced for some students who probably have never pondered such a question, but more on that later.

There are some discussions specifically pertaining to the Elements in the first week of class, but then the materials shifts to other aspects that do not concentrate on the identity of the Elements, but on elements of the Elements since I can’t resist the pun. To keep the theme alive and in the student’s minds, I show two elements every class period from a wonderful artist/cartoonist (Kaycie D.) from her website (you should check it out!) Her drawings embody the elements in a humorous way that also highlights their properties. Here’s one of them. (You should check out her website.)

My first Element assignment, creating an Infographic on a known element, went quite well. Students submitted their infographics early in Week Three and overall I’m pleased with the results. While a few students did a rush job, many of them actually took the time to be creative so now I have some sample infographics I can use to show my next class – I think I will do this assignment again next semester in my chemistry for nonmajors class. (Last year, it was a water-themed Infographic as a final project.) Some of the students chose the same element they had picked on Day One of class. It was great to see them creatively expand on their choice!

I’ve also creatively (or nerdily) attempted to inject Elemental language into my problem sets and exams. My first problem set was titled “Element of the Problem: Cobalt”. The students had to do some calculations on cobalt starting with volume and density data from the WebElements site and compare their numbers with the average mass listed on a periodic table. Clearly the two don’t agree so the student calculate a percent error and suggest why there’s a discrepancy. Then they are asked to add up the masses of protons, neutrons and electrons of a particular isotope, and again think about why this mass differs from the number in the periodic table. I’ve used versions of this assignment many times over the years.

My second problem set, however, was created from scratch last week. It is called “The Magnificent Seven of Magnesium” in honor of the movie coming out this weekend. I forgot to tell the students about magnesium’s use as a fuse! It will come up again later in the semester. The actual problems weren’t as creative (on my part) – they focus on the photoelectric effect, line spectra and the de Broglie equation, basically to make sure the students understand the basics! Often they mix up ionization energy and the work function, even though the two are closely related. Photon wavelength and deBroglie wavelength are another pair that students get confused by, even after my repeatedly saying in class how and why they are different.

I’m pleased to say that I think my take-home Exam #1 went smoothly. I did try to inject some creativity into one of the questions. It has to do with a shady scientist named L. Luthor who claims he has invented a new element named Kryptonium. (Note, it is not kryptonite – which would be an ore of kryptonium. I’ll bring this up in class when we talk about ionic compounds.) A sample provided to other scientists for independent verification (because this is important in science!) finds that it is radioactive and releases beta-rays, and is actually a very heavy isotope of a known element. The students try to figure out the identity of the isotope, and explain why it undergoes beta-decay. There’s also a half-life calculation.

Just this past Friday our class did the first part of my Alien Periodic Table activity, where fifty years of history is simulated in fifty minutes of class time. The students, are of course completely confounded (they are warned beforehand) by the difficulty of the problem as they try to make sense of these strange new elements. Monday is part two where they will receive photoelectron spectroscopy data and this will culminate in the second Element Assignment due a week later where they try to elucidate the Alien Periodic Table. We’ll see how that goes.

All this is part of the plan to scaffold their final project where they will invent a new element. I still don’t know how well that’s going to work, but that’s why it is worth doing the experiment!

Mixed Media

I’ve been debating whether or not to read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. (Image credit: www.vulture.com) I have very little experience with plays and theatre. When a work of art is composed for a certain medium, is it best to first view it in that particular medium? For example, the original Harry Potter books were written to be read, and I think they are much stronger than their movie adaptations. Now, from what I understand the Cursed Child is simply the screenplay; it has not been “adapted” in the same sense, but it may be missing the nuances of live theatre. Again, I simply have no experience – and I should really talk to people who go to live theatre on a regular basis and ask for their opinions.

My preferred entertainment is that which is geared to the masses. I enjoy going to the movies, but only to watch blockbusters with explosions, great special effects, and/or epic landscape. I like to get my money’s worth for the sound and special effects. (I don’t own a large TV, or any TV for that matter.) I’m also happy to watch excellent movies that are not visual spectacles, but being cheap, I just wait for the DVDs to show up in the local library system.

I can’t help but make a comparison to higher education. With the massification of higher education aided by technology, is this akin to the movies? You get a superstar lecturer to launch a MOOC; the masses can watch the videos and do the “homework” online. All course work is homework, in a nonsynchronous fully online course. It’s relatively cheap to the consumer. You will need enough paying consumers to cover the costs of a slick production (and I’m sure there will be competition), not to mention turn a profit – or you will simply go out of business. There’s a reason why Udacity and Coursera are moving towards the corporate world, as mentioned in my last post. The business world is willing to pay.

On the other side are institutions continuing to sell their product (live experience with human instructors in an amenity-filled environment that provides live support). It’s private, name-branded, and gains you entry into the networked world of the elites. It is also expensive. The cream-of-the-crop in the elite category have no fear of massification. They have huge endowments for support, and there will always be folks willing to pay up. Non-elite privates will be caught in a struggle for survival; those with fewer resources and less prestige will be most hard-pressed. Notice that this says nothing about the quality of education provided; the flat world economics just kills you if you’re not already on a peak.

I find myself in the ironic position of being a staunch supporter of the small-classroom live experience when it comes to education, although I prefer the mass-produced movie to the intimate experience of live theatre. (Maybe it’s so I can keep my job.) Teaching and learning can be its best in a dialectical relationship. Socrates would agree; he thought dialogue was at the heart of gaining knowledge. In Phaedros, he is purported to say: “[Writing] will create forgetfulness in the learners’ souls, because they will not use their memories; they will trust to the external written characters and not remember of themselves. The specific which you have discovered is an aid not to memory, but to reminiscence, and you give your disciples not truth, but only the semblance of truth; they will be hearers of many things and will have learned nothing; they will appear to be omniscient and will generally know nothing; they will be tiresome company, having the show of wisdom without the reality.” The reason we have this is thanks to Plato, who thankfully (in my opinion) wrote lots of things down!

Now education is not entertainment, although the lines have blurred considerably. Does the average student seek knowledge or entertainment when they come to class? (A better question might be whether anything else trumps getting a good grade so the student can move on in life, but that’s a whole different blog post.) Perhaps a bit of both. The best entertainment, in my opinion, tickles part of your brain. But to do that, one needs some background knowledge, the ability to appreciate the complex, and an eye for the subtle. Live theater, I am told, can provide such an experience if one actively engages attention in the performance. Maybe that’s why I have personally not found live theater compelling, I approached it simply as a passive viewer – and I could not pick up on the richness of expression. Perhaps it is simply a lack of experience. (I prefer action blockbuster movies, if I’m going to plunk down cash.)

Maybe, I would better appreciate the theatre if I knew the story beforehand, at least in broad strokes. Then I can immerse myself in the complexity, subtlety and uniqueness of the performance being communicated to me live in-person. I’d already know the basic plot, but I’m there to learn the richness that surrounds the bare factual information. Is that what college-level learning should be like? The students read beforehand, and are then treated to a rich presentation and discussion beyond the bare facts. Anecdotally, I know that students who read before they come to my class are much better to appreciate what happens in class (they tell me so, because it’s a revelation to them)! But not everyone does the preparation beforehand. This suggests that perhaps I should read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, before I (eventually) go see the live performance.

P.S. Or one could have the students be the live theatre in a game.

Education is not an app

Education is not an app is the title of a new book by two professors named Jonathan (Poritz and Rees) who are both at Colorado State University – Pueblo. One is a historian and the other a mathematician. Interestingly the front-matter page lists the publication and copyright as 2017. Apparently this is not uncommon (according to my librarian spouse who is knowledgeable in such matters). I occasionally read Jonathan Rees’ blog (“More or Less Bunk”) so overall the content and tone of the book was not surprising, at least to me. The thrust of the book, according to the authors is to view educational technology through the lens of political economy. The book focuses mainly on the impact to teachers, and warns faculty to pay heed and get involved in technology decisions on their campuses. The authors are not Luddites, and they both use and support the use of technology; but they are wary of its over-reach and its use as a medium of control.

The title of their book reminds me of this famous Jean-Marc Cote picture from the “Vision of the Year 2000” series, as seen around 1900. For those of you who actively read the pundits on educational technology on both sides of the “divide”, many of the topics touched on will be familiar. There is a requisite chapter on MOOCs, and it’s been interesting to see Coursera recently announce (just a couple of weeks ago) its movement towards the business world aimed at employee (re)training and development. This follows in the footsteps of Udacity. It’s hard to make money given their business models in the open field of education to those who otherwise can’t afford it. So these moves are not surprising.

Chapter 2 is titled “Online Education: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly”. One vignette jumped out at me. The problem of cheating (a plague possibly invented thanks to the “official” system of education) is exacerbated in online education. The authors point out that it is easy to find (on the internet of course) folks to “write entire papers from scratch for them… [or] take entire online courses for you if the price is right.” That leads to the next problem in the mounting arms race when trying to stop the cheaters. “Basically, guaranteeing that nobody in an online class cheats requires setting up a miniature police state that affects every student in a class.” The example and claims of ProctorTrack are described. There are face scans and knuckle scans (I had to look up the latter!), not to mention close monitoring of keystrokes and potential attempts to search online, copy and paste, take a screenshot, etc. And universities are contracting with such companies to do this! Since this is an arms race, there are also plenty of internet sites with advice to students of how to get around the “security”. It’s like a dystopian sci-fi movie, except it’s already here.

Chapter 4 made the most impact on me. The authors advocate for the use of free/libre/open-source software in higher education. There is an excellent parody of a Calculus II end user license agreement (EULA), well worth reading. They also trace the beginnings of the copyright era and its movement to what is known as the Mickey Mouse era. (This comes from the extension of the copyright on Mickey Mouse as a character, currently to 2024 from 2003. I learned much more about DMCA and DRM, the tactics of RIAA and MPAA. (Yes, there are a lot of acronyms but they are well-explained.) More arms-race stuff related to encryption and decryption strategies. And of course, the bottom line here is the bottom line.

I have to admit that reading this chapter made me want to switch my main work computer to running Ubuntu (Linux) and eschewing my beautiful Mac on OS X. (I already use the Unix Terminal on my Mac frequently.) There was also a call to I.T. departments to support diversity and creativity, use open source systems, and not to constrain oneself both monetarily and flexible-use-wise with paid “enterprise” systems. The big Learning Management Systems are criticized, I think fairly for the most part, by the authors. In the early days I hacked my own HTML website where I delivered course materials. Then I tried WebCT briefly (and hated it). I started using Blackboard when I was team-teaching, and I tried it in several other classes hence. I’ve now reverted back to my own HTML hacking. It’s very annoying to come up against “oh, the system doesn’t allow you to do that” and to have to click all over the place to get to what you need.

The step that I have not yet taken is to get rid of the textbook entirely in all my courses. I teach one semester of P-Chem (stat thermo) entirely from my own handouts, but I still teach the other semester (quantum) using an excellent textbook (McQuarrie). Currently G-Chem is tied to a Pearson textbook with the accompanying Mastering Chemistry online homework. I have become increasingly disillusioned with these constraints, although it’s not to say they’re all bad – there are some good features in both the book and the online homework. I suspect that the more we tie ourselves to them, the more that the overall teaching and learning experience will be eroded – and we will make ourselves, the human teachers, obsolete. Education will become stratified – mass education (in the style of “Electronic Taylorism”, the title of Chapter 6) for the masses, and elite education for the elites, with an ever-widening gap between those who can pay and those who cannot.

That is a dystopian future indeed. Jean-Marc Cote may not be so far off.

Charcoal

I am continuing to find interesting vignettes in Periodic Tales by Hugh Aldersey-Williams. (Here’s a link to my previous post on the book.) Today I was struck by my ignorance of charcoal. For some reason I seem to think that charcoal is primarily dug out of the ground (like coal) and it might then undergo some treatment process before making its ways into bags at the store to be sold to folks who enjoy BBQ. This is despite my having learned many years back that charcoal is produced from burning wood. You’d think this would be reinforced by my playing the boardgame Le Havre on a semi-regular basis. But, just like some of my students, I quickly forget what I learned.

This motivated me to play Le Havre again, but before I started the game I pulled out the appropriate card – the Charcoal Kiln. Sure enough, it turns wood into charcoal. The brown chits are double-sided: wood on one side, coal on the other. In contrast, the coal is a grey chit, and it gets turned into coke via the Cokery. (See picture below.)

Aldersey-Williams personally visits a charcoal burner named Jim Beetle to learn the finer points of the process. The wood must be set up carefully, and the air intake controlled so that the wood burns evenly, with as little smoke and flame as possible. Oxygen intake is restricted – you don’t want everything to turn into gaseous carbon dioxide. If done right, the high quality charcoal produced is almost pure carbon. It also does not contain sulphur and other “impurities” you might find in coal. The author is surprised at how lightweight the charcoal is when he helps to bag it up after the cooling process is complete. My next General Chemistry class is on the mole (as in Avogadro’s Number, not the mammal), and I have samples of different elements I will be handing out, one of which is pure carbon. It sure is lighter than the same amount (in moles) of most metals.

The narrative marvels on the wonders of charcoal as a fuel. It burns without leaving any residue if pure –  the carbon is completely combusted into carbon dioxide. This is in contrast to metals, which gain mass when burned due to formation of a metal oxide. There are of course other problems with releasing so much CO₂, as coal and charcoal are burned in larger quantities to satiate the energy needs of a peculiar species, homo industrialis. (Okay, I just made up a Latin name.)

I also learned a bunch of other interesting trivia. Apparently the name Brazil “refers to burnt timber, the country being named by the Portuguese after brasa, meaning ‘hot coals’ in reference to the red of the brazilwood trees.” The author remarks wryly about the irony – “British barbecue chefs unwittingly play their part in the razing of the Amazon”. Apparently the demand for charcoal has risen with the love of BBQ, with the supply mainly coming from deforestation in the tropics. There’s also a connection between the charcoal burners of today and their counterparts almost a millennia ago involving tales of Robin Hood and Prince/King John. Apparently the Carbonari (named after ‘charcoal burner’ in Italian), formed as a resistance group against Napoleon in Naples, played a role in the ever-changing political scene that led eventually to the unification of Italy.

Hopefully writing about this has strengthened the neural connections in my brain that charcoal indeed comes from burning wood. I suppose playing Le Havre might help too. Here are a couple of pictures from my game mid-progress. (Sorry about picture quality – my hands are not steady, partly why I’m a theorist and not an experimentalist.) The board is busy but the components are aesthetically pleasing! The main boards are in the first picture, and my card tableau is below it. The player on my left built the Charcoal Kiln, so I don’t have it – but I did use it as evidenced by a stack of charcoal tiles at the bottom of the picture. Charcoal! It amply supplied my energy needs in the game. Thankfully, I don’t burn it in real life.

Emphasizing Grades and Aversive Control

In an attempt to raise the level of intrinsic motivation, I have experimented with de-emphasizing grades in a previous course, and I am using part of that strategy in my general chemistry course this semester. I am also reducing the contribution of exam grades to the course grade; also an experiment.

Jack Michael thinks one should do the opposite, although he restricts his suggestions to courses with more than 40 students, introductory-content-heavy, and aimed at first and second year students. In a provocative article from 25 years ago, he argues that “effective college teaching is a form of aversive control, but if done properly the aversiveness is quite mild, and such aversive control can be responsible for the development of large and valuable intellectual repertoires.” That’s the last sentence of the article abstract, shown in full in the picture below along with source information.

I rarely have over 40 students in a class even at the introductory level, so maybe none of this applies to me. However, while I don’t necessarily agree with everything in the article, Professor Michael makes some incisive and insightful points in his paper. It is well worth reading in full, and I will simply highlight a few things that jumped out at me.

The first is his view of the introductory-content-heavy “grunt” courses. He writes: “I know that some professors and some students consider such courses to be necessary evils, at best, brought on by mass education, but I don’t share that view. This type of course, when it generates effective study, is responsible for a great deal of learning.” The key argument that Michael makes is that for many areas, particular in the sciences and courses leading to particular professions, having an extensive knowledge base is crucial. Creativity and innovation flow from this base – and the student learns from the professor (the professional in his or her field) how the expert talks and thinks about such material. As a chemist, I am inclined to strongly agree – I’ve started to entertain the idea of teaching a one-credit-hour seminar on the deep structure of chemistry. Maybe that will be my next summer project.

A chunk of the article discusses student motivation. The author anticipates many of the arguments one would make about the different sources of motivation. Intrinsic motivation – the joy of learning for its own sake – which is what we would ideally want all our learners to have, unfortunately plays a very small role and tends to be limited to a very narrow band of students. Our accelerating milieu coupled with a range of competing interests demanding the attention of our students, pushes students away from putting in the time and effort needed in a college-level course. Even “long-range payoffs suffer from the same susceptibility to postponement… this type of motivator [doesn’t] play any appreciable role in maintaining daily and weekly study”.

What works? Michael’s answer: Grades. He calls it “the one motivational factor over which the instructor has considerable control, and which is easily related to the details of the study assignment. It is also a factor of considerable strength, as evidenced by the intensity of study activity occurring immediately before a major exam.”

This brings me to the Procrastination Scallop. I had read about this in a different article that then referenced Jack Michael’s paper and led me to it in the first place. His paper has only one diagram – and it’s excellent! I should show it to my students.

He then goes into detail about how one should structure exams, how often, how much weight they should be given, the importance of clarity, the link to out-of-class study, and the relationship between student mastery and grades. He does weekly exams – I’m not sure I could do that, although I tend to give more exams than most. He also thinks that these exams should contribute significantly to the course grade. That’s what I’ve done in most of my classes (except for the experiment I’m trying this semester), which now seems rather “old school” given newer, trendier approaches. But perhaps there is something worthwhile about the old-school method. It’s something for me to mull over at length.

I close this post with Michael’s debunking of three popular notions in his conclusion. These notions are:

·      If you teach properly the students will find learning both fun and easy.

·      Grades should not be emphasized.

·      Good teaching consists primarily of good lecturing.

You’ll have to read his article to find out why he thinks these are bad for the types of courses he is considering (see second paragraph of this post). His final few sentences are poignant. “Perhaps in a more general sense it would be useful to conclude as follows: The world runs on fear. College learning is largely under aversive control, and it is our task to make such control effective, in which case it becomes a form of gentle persuasion.”

The author doesn’t try to fight the system but operate as best within it. Can we get out of the cycle of aversive control that is lodged into a much larger system? That will require more than a summer project of thought.

A First Week of Gold

“Gold of all the metals is the most useless in Physick, except when considered as an antidote to poverty.” – Etienne Francois-Geoffrey (physician and chemist)

I always look with excitement to the first week of classes! It was always busy as usual, my throat felt a little sore, and I was more tired at the end of each day. I think it is because I’m not used to as much talking and standing (while gesticulating wildly about chemistry). During the summer, there is more sitting in solitude in front of a computer screen. I am teaching General Chemistry (G-Chem) and Physical Chemistry (P-Chem) this semester. My G-Chem class is oddly skewed with 75% women (normally closer to 60%) while my P-Chem class is slightly over 50% women, closer to the norm.

The opening quote comes from the first chapter of Periodic Tales by Hugh Aldersey-Williams. One of my colleagues, who heard about my planned Elements theme to be threaded throughout my G-Chem class lent me the book just before the weekend. The first section is titled El Dorado – “the Golden Man”. I’m barely 25 pages in, and I’ve found all sorts of interesting vignettes that I can use in my classes. The chapter opens with the sculpture Siren which is apparently a life-sized gold statue of the model Kate Moss, in the British Museum. Maybe it should be La Dorada. (I’m learning Spanish on the side.)

If I had started on the book earlier, I might have used this in my class on Friday where we discuss measurements, S.I. units, scientific notation, conversion factors, precision & accuracy, and more. For many years, I’ve used Archimedes to launch the discussion. (Here’s a link to a Lego Archimedes video!) We talk about density and how to check if a crown is indeed worth its weight in gold, or alternatively gold-plated over a cheaper metal. Apparently Siren was designed to weigh the same as Kate Moss, which means that it isn’t pure gold. If the volume of Kate Moss was her weight in gold, she would be tiny. The next time someone uses the expression “worth [one’s] weight in gold”, I’ll be ready with a discussion about Siren. Or maybe I could quip about whether we should use osmium instead!

For many years, we would do a calculation in class to compare the density of a pure gold crown to that of an alloy and calculate the water displacement in both cases. But then we stopped there. Over the last couple of years, I’ve added a “design an experiment” component to allow the students to see that even if one knows “what the numbers should be like”, that the actual design to allow more precise and accurate measurements can be tricky. I ran out of time this year and didn’t get to the question of measuring one’s own density (I pose the question “How Dense are You?” usually to nervous laughter when the students get the joke) and comparing this to the definition of BMI (body mass index). Maybe next year I will use Siren as a class example.

This semester my plan in G-Chem is to thread an “elemental” theme through the semester culminating in a final project where the students propose the invention of a new element. In my first meeting with students (as part of an icebreaker), students were asked to choose a favorite (known) element and explain their choice. I’ve done this for several years, and inevitably there are students who choose gold. This year I had one student choose Europium (because she would like to visit Europe) and another chose Yttrium. (Oxygen was the most popular this year.) I learned in the opening pages of Periodic Tales that apparently Europium is used as a luminescent dye in the Euro bank notes, apparently the whim of a “humorous bureaucrat”. I also learned that Svante Arrhenius (1903 chemistry Nobel prize winner), who studied electrical conductivity in solutions, made an estimate of the amount of gold in the oceans; and that apparently Fritz Haber (1918 winner) apparently outfitted a ship to take measurements in the Atlantic Ocean.

Gold will feature again in my G-Chem class this week. We will be looking at experiments determining the structure of the atom. Rutherford’s experiment shooting alpha-particles at gold foil will feature prominently in our discussions! Gold hasn't shown up in my P-Chem class (Quantum Chemistry). We just finished a class on the Bohr model and derived the Rydberg equation based on Bohr’s simple model of hydrogen as an electron orbiting a proton with quantum restrictions on its orbits to be an integer of some deBroglie wavelength. In Periodic Tables, there’s an interesting vignette on Bohr melting down the gold Nobel medals of Max von Laue and James Franck so they would not fall into the hands of the Nazi regime. He used aqua regia! After the war, the Nobel Foundation reminted the medals. Maybe I can mention this in my next class.

Looking forward to Week 2 (after a Labor Day holiday)!