“They say the streets of heaven are paved with gold. But they’ve forgotten to pave the sidewalks at all.”
Any New Yorker knows that there are distinctly different types of concrete comprising the sidewalks of the city. Of course you have the basic, white, slabs stationed all the way from Williamsburg to the Upper East Side, but the closer you get to Bushwick the more dark gum spots stain the floor beneath and the dirt from your shoes seem to have permanently sunk into the pavement. I mean yes, the Vanderbilt's could transport the yellow brick road from Oz itself if they really wanted to and I’m sure the Rothschild’s have purchased the London Bridge at some point, but when you step out of the subway onto Park Avenue the dichotomy is almost as clear as the marble.
Take a walk downtown and you’ll see how the early rockers carved their names into the streets by its resemblance to the alleys of Europe. Cobblestone, bricks, and pebbles lead the way to Electric Lady Studios on West 8th. Abbey Road is in Camden but it could just as well be in Greenwich Village. Until NYU moved into town, at which point much of the original cobble dripping with pigeon droppings was replaced with new cobble, cobble made somewhere in China as a red-carpet for the piles of Midwestern kids moving in to discover their inner Clapton.
If you can bear to be on the train for so long, take the E and transfer to the M into middle of nowhere Middle Village, Queens, where you’ll be greeted by a roller coaster of stone, brown rocky-mountain slush-turned concrete placed in squares too small for their size.
And when you can’t take it anymore, when you want uniformity and less disparity, you’re perfectly free to take a PATH or LIRR train out of the city. Go to New Jersey or Long Island and you won’t have any more problems. Complete neighborhoods have selected their ground in a zoning meeting somewhere and so everywhere it’s the same. Or maybe there is no sidewalk at all- after all, why walk past the homeless man and be forced into making eye contact with him when you can drive by the mall on your way to soccer practice? In New York, even the Vanderbilt's have to step out onto the pavement on their way to the Opera.
- Alexandra G. Kytka
As I’m lounging on my couch sick at home, John William’s brilliant soundtrack to The Empire Strikes Back resounds across the living room as Luke Skywalker grapples with his potential origins in the dark side of the force. Boxes of tissues are scattered across the room so that with very little effort I can keep lounging and blowing my red nose, but luckily, my mind is more focused on thee grammatical patterns of Yoda’s endearing speech.
If I had to pick a religion that most echoes the world of Star Wars, I might pick Hinduism. And in fact, many sources suggest George Lucas holds Hindu beliefs, and so many other before me have made the same connection, pointing especially to the “Force” as a reflection of Brahman.
But if the Force is an echo of Hindu beliefs, it is a very diluted one. For one thing, although the Force apparently is in all (and can be used for either good or bad), the Force is not all. There is nothing to suggest beings themselves (for example Darth Vader and Princess Leia) are anything but distinct, lacking the monism of Hindu cosmology. Furthermore, such an extreme dichotomy between good and evil (the dark side and the light) is more representative of a Judeo-Christian ethos than a Hindu one, in which destruction is necessary for recreation and morality is dependent on dharma and the maintenance of the social order.
Chewbacca seems to be making fun of me as I have these thoughts. Perhaps having missed school today (and subsequently my World Religions class), I am trying to make up from it by referencing my class material. Of course, George Lucas was not tied down to perfectly recreating a Hindu worldview in his filmmaking and I’m certainly not suggesting he was trying to at all. But there is an interesting note to be made in how Western pop-culture uses belief systems and cultures, especially that of different cultures. It has gotten to the point where words like karma and reincarnation are more likely to remind me of an twenty-something year old hippie playing guitar in Washington Square Park than an actual Hindu practitioner of Indian descent. But it’s hard to truly engage in conversations of comparative religion and worldview when our conception of belief systems are so far removed from their original culture. The reason Star Wars can’t perfectly replicate a Hindu cosmos is partially because that Hindu cosmos is intricately intertwined with the geographical, social, economic, and political history of its people.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this particular post. Maybe it’s the consistent sinus pressure or the fact that Han Solo has just been encased in carbonite. I guess I’m trying to say that although connections between films and religion/philosophy are fascinating and worth a thought or two, we cannot rely only on the plots of Hollywood blockbusters to critically analyze the implications of world views. Simply put, The Empire Strikes Back may end in a victory for the Rebel Alliance but the cyclical universe of Hinduism doesn’t include an ending at all.
- Alexandra Kytka
“All men are ordinary men; the extraordinary men are the ones who know it,”
John Green’s latest novel sounds like a mystery inside of a drama, the story of a girl who reunites with her billionaire friend as his father disappears, but reads like a raw human-interest story. The story revolves around Aza, an anxiety-run junior whose mind quickly becomes preoccupied with what she calls “invasives,” hypochondriac-like thoughts that prevent her from living life as a normal teen.
Turtles All the Way Down was certainly an enjoyable read. I finished it within the day and found myself wanting to read more fiction afterwards. I wanted more from secondary characters like Daisy, however, her relationship with Aza, riddled with complexities and insecurities on either side, was enlightening as a representation of what it is like to be involved with someone who struggles with mental illness.
As a lover of philosophy myself, I appreciate John Green’s incorporation of themes and tropes such as infinite regress (i.e. the title) that he seems to be establishing as a characteristic of his writing style. Although it can seem like an unnatural leap at times (why is everyone suddenly talking about spirals), you can clearly tell he is trying to be educational on more than one front.
I have been critical in the past of authors like Green for exploiting the “YA demographic” and writing within a marketing category rather than a genre. And to a certain extent this still rings true for Turtles All the Way Down, with references to obscure fan-fiction worlds and complaints about the cost of tuition that are sure to be quoted and used over and again by students across America. However, while it was clear in my reading of this novel that it was written for “people like me” (that is, American teenage girls and the generation right after the Millennials), the novel was genuinely interesting and was even able to broaden my horizons past my demographic, especially when it came to my understanding of anxiety and mental illness.
And of course this is the point of fiction- to use something familiar, whether that be archetypes, plot-lines, or pop-culture, to bring a reader into consider a perspective or an idea they may not have had the opportunity to have otherwise.
Although it is not my usual go-to novel, I still would recommend it as a gift, a casual holiday read, or as rainy day entertainment. Turtles All the Way Down was a book written for the masses, but sometimes even pop-culture gets it right.
I took a bit of time off my blog during the summer but I'm back! Check out this video I made.
Our culture puts a lot of emphasis over the virtue of 'originality'. In the modern art world, many people think a piece is good if it is 'original,' or at least that it cannot be good if it is unoriginal. Here is my criticism of originality.
1) Originality is a red herring.
This criticism is the most obvious personally, but just because something is original doesn't mean it's any good. By highlighting only the originality of a work, we have lost our ability to critique and analyze a piece of art based on its merit, skill, and contextual history.
2) Originality is a lie.
If you think of an idea and you think it is 'original,' chances are, you have deceived yourself. The creation of ideas is about the combination of other ideas and other 'stuff' in new ways. The way you combine things can be original, but a thing itself cannot be completely original. Many mythological creatures are combinations of real life things (i.e. unicorns or centaurs). Their origins in other created things does not make them any less magical or mystifying. Most of the time, if you can't track down the sources of your idea down to two simple things (horse and human makes centaur), that doesn't mean you were not influenced by other people and other things, merely that your idea is such a convoluted combination and soup of piles of observations you have made for years upon years that you can no longer hold it down to a particular source.
3) Originality ignores a basic fact of life.
Humans were made to live in community and to build on each others' ideas. The fact that we have language allows us to do this very thing. Artists and creators seldom are purely individualistic. The sound of the Late Beatles changed significantly after they met with and heard the music of Bob Dylan. Writers have their guilds and impressionists their Salon des Refusés. The fact is that not only do we use each other for our creativity, we need each other for our creativity. Even Shakespeare has his most famous works rooted in previously written tales or historical events, and sampling in hip-hop music is used not to copy, but to appreciate. Overall, creation is a community activity and we all have some part in it.
I think the key here is to just create. We learn by doing. Don't worry about being original, just be amazing.
This blog post doesn't claim originality in the least. This was influenced by a "Theology and Arts" class I audited with Fuller Theological Seminary, the works of Makoto Fujimura, and a bunch of videos from the extensive works of John and Hank Green.
Wow– The summer is fully in swing! And whereas some people picture the perfect summer break as being full of outdoor excursions, beach trips, and picnics, mine includes being able to freely read, watch, and listen to more of what I love (among those other activities as well :)). So here's some of what I've been consuming, and some of my thoughts!
Godel, Escher, Bach (Douglas Hofstadter) : This is sort of a cop out since I started this during the end of the school year and I'm still not done reading it, but if you've ever seen this book, you'll understand why. A 700+ page book full of mathematical theorems, artistic rendezvous, and casual classical music history all bundled up into a fantastic intertwining of Lewis Carroll-inspired dialogues and longer descriptive chapters that try to create an argument for artificial intelligence. At least, I think. I still don't completely understand how everything is working to that end, but every page I read is a new revelation. Highly recommend.
Caravaggio: A life sacred and profane (Andrew Graham-Dixon) : This biography outlines the life and artwork of Michelangelo of Caravaggio within the context of a counter-Reformation Italy. I enjoyed getting to learn more about this period of time and this book definitely helped me fill in some gaps in my understanding of history. I am also in wonder at the life of Caravaggio, who was said to live 'as if there were only two seasons- Carnival and Lent". My only downside to this book is that some portions went (in my opinion) too into depth as far as all the proceedings of various trials, sometimes including entire pages just of quotations, which didn't feel necessary. But if you're willing to skim past that and you're interested in art, definitely worth reading!
Sidewalks in the Kingdom: New Urbanism and the Christian Faith (Eric O. Jacobson): I read this book for a class I'm taking from Fuller Theological Seminary on Theology and Art. Essentially, it speaks to how, contrary to popular Christian belief, the gospel is most accurately modeled in a city environment and the communities created by city living. Being a New Yorker myself, I found much of Jacobson's text gave me the language I needed to describe some of my own ideas. If you live in the city (or don't), please read this book.
Chance the Rapper's "Coloring Book": If you know me, you'll know I don't often listen to rap, but I this album is a masterpiece. Inspired by gospel and spirituals, songs like "How Great" and "Blessings" spoke to me in their juxtaposition of describing Chance the Rapper's persistent faith despite some of the realities of his life and how he grew up.
Pink Floyd's "The Wall": This is a classic and I'm surprised it took me so long to get into it. My father and I saw a Pink Floyd exhibit a few weeks ago at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and it absolutely blew my mind. Have a listen. Favorites within: "Another Brick in the Wall" parts 1 and 2.
Mozart (just generally): I have been listening to a lot of Mozart while reading or studying, and after reading the History of Classical Music, I have loved seeing some of the context I have learned at play.
The New Season of Doctor Who: It's amazing to me how this show has gone so long without making me feel like I'm watching the same plots over and over. I don't think this was my favorite season, and there were definitely some plot twists that seemed like cop-outs, but I think that the writers did a great job in exploring the vulnerability of the Doctor as a continuation but in a different way from the previous season.
La La Land/Beauty and the Beast: I finally watched these while on my flight back from the UK. I did genuinely enjoy both of them despite my assumptions coming into them. I will say however, one of these assumptions being that the singing of the main actors would be atrocious, I much prefer the La La Land production's choice to use "okay" voices naturally over the Beauty and the Beast's decision to auto-tune and pitch correct Emma Watson like crazy. She's joined by some phenomenal performances and that very much cheapened it.
Well, this is by no means an exhaustive list, but it's some of the media that has been in my mind. I'm excited for some of the books on my "To-Read" list, and if this post does well, perhaps I will do another post like this toward the end of the summer!
Remember, if you have some extra time, please check out my podcast! The episode that has just been released is one of my favorites; we talk about comfort and pleasure and how it shapes much of our life.
Click here to listen to "Treat Yo Self: Indulgences, Minimalism, Productivity, and Comfort ft. Nadia Iqbal"
I don’t usually speak personally on this blog, but with the end of my junior year and the beginning of the summer before my final year of high school, I figured it might be a good idea to share a little bit about what I have learned over the course of the year.
ONE: People are wonderful.
I'm quite the cynic. That’s not to say that I am a pessimist, but rather that I tend to outwardly express impatience than I do grace. But this year, through various interactions with people around me, I learned how wonderful people are. I can’t even count the amount of times I have struck up a conversation with someone I would have never imagined talking to and was whisked away into an intriguing conversation about something that person was passionate about. And most of this wasn’t even on my podcast, which was designed for that every purpose!
This year, I found myself (twice) at dinner parties surrounded by a plethora of ballet dancers, artists, and professionals. Assuming me to be in college, many of these people spoke to me about their work and their passions treating me like a peer, and even doing so after they learned of my youth. I spoke to a male costume designer about travels in Europe, a interior designer about food photography, and a ballerina about what it’s like to grow up so far away from family.
A lot of things distract people from their wonder, but we shouldn’t be afraid to embrace people. If you let yourself get into circumstances that you may be uncomfortable with, who’s to say what amazing people you might meet and what amazing things you might learn.
TWO: People are terrible.
I mean it; people really are terrible. When meeting people for the first time, it’s easy to just focus on the wonder of their beings but once you go deeper in relationships, it’s hard to ignore how messed up people are. We are selfish, cruel, prideful, and even though we think we are doing right, we often convince ourselves the wrong thing is right.
THREE: Contradictions are ok sometimes.
People are wonderful, and people are terrible. This seems a contradiction, and yet it’s true. I had an interesting conversation with a friend where we were trying to come up with oxymorons. My favorite one that I personally came up with was Roman Catholic (because Roman refers locationally to a specific place but catholic means universal) which stuck out to me because obviously there are a lot of people who are “Roman Catholic”. It obviously cannot be a contradiction in terms, and yet it is. Humanity can be defined as a mess of contradictions, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps, we seem paradoxes because humanity is complex and above the comprehension of our small human brains.
FOUR: I am blessed.
People throw around the word “privilege,” which isn’t inaccurate, but in this context I prefer to use the word blessed. I have been blessed with an amazing family who loves me and raised me on books and God alike, I live in a safe neighborhood that is honestly quite beautiful. I attend an amazing IB school without having to pay tuition and I’m going to the UK this summer for vacation. To top that all off, I live in New York City, where I often mind myself meeting cool and famous people during opportunities I could only imagine. It’s increasingly clear to me that I live a life not shared by all or most of the world, and that I need to be thankful for this but also recognize that it is a blessing in the sense that I did nothing to deserve the circumstances in which I have been raised.
FIVE: I need to share my blessings.
I believe there’s little point in being able to recognize your blessings if you keep them all to yourself. This is definitely something I need to work on. I’m not even talking about big drastic things like becoming a doctor and moving to developing countries or living for a year as a homeless person. But, as I mentioned, I tend to be a cynic, which I think there is little point of when I have so much to be happy and smiling about. Especially with the college application season approaching, I know I need to be able to not just withdraw and be able to get work done, but also to be able to love the people around me that they might be a little more blessed in their own lives.
AND NOW, some thins I learned which likely won't help me in life but I want to share anyway.
1. Orangoutangs are "semi-solitary," which is really just a fancy way of saying they are introverts who need to be alone sometimes to just chill.
2. The R train is slow but pretty cool. It's pretty much like café and if you don't have your headphones in, random people will chat with you and make you feel better about life.
3. There are different kinds of rain. There’s heavy infrequent rain, where drops don’t come very often but come down with a huge unexpected splash, light frequent rain, where drops are small and little but are coming down constantly, and heavy frequent rain, where all hell breaks loose from the sky. I adore the second two types, but despise the first, which makes me feel like I have no control over anything.
Well, I'm off to summer. Hopefully this summer (and senior year for that matter) will have another whole plethora of things for me to learn.
Have you learned anything this year? Let me know in the comments!
- Alexandra G. Kytka
Despite the desire of many high school juniors to "go against the system" at least when it comes to the college process, the fact is that our world is full of systems that we work in and with in order to make anything meaningful at all. Scientists define isolated systems to get a perfect constant of the law of conservation of energy, but even ballet dancers follow a system of dance moves and patterns in their artistic form. But why does any of this matter? Can't we just all destroy the "system" of rules and formalities and find the truest science and dance without it?
In his book Godel, Escher, Bach, Douglas Hofstadter explores the idea of an isomorphism, that is, (in the mathematical sense of the word) a one to one correspondent between two sets. In layman's terms, that's a system that helps you understand another system that is more cryptic.
For example, if I give you a pattern of a triangle followed by a square, a pentagon and a hexagon, you may understand that "system" as 3,4,5,6 in terms of the number of sides on the square. That system of numbers (3,4,5,6) itself is not the same as that pattern, but rather it is a separate system that helps you understand the pattern because it holds a one to one correspondence with the original. This is an isomorphism. Also loosely correlating to an analogy, isomorphic systems help you work within another. Just like I know that the next shape will have 7 sides, if given "cat:mouse is as "dog:--," I can know that the -- is cat. So now we know what an isomorphism is in a formal sense, but what does this mean for the "informal" things that (arguably) matter more? In the following lines I will argue that all systems we have in place are our isomorphic attempts to understand the system that is reality.
In his theory of language, linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (and later, in 1956, Roland Jakobson) argued that all language is actually metaphor or metonymy. Calling back to the title of this post, we may uses the example of a "cat." The English word "cat," as he argues, although attempting to use to the same idea as the Egyptian "mau," actually communicates a fundamentally different idea, that is, the idea of a graceful being whose values according to Egyptian culture is completely different from the Anglo-American conception of a "cat." Postmodern philosophers cite this phenomena to claim that language is utterly distinct from reality. However, these academics miss one key point, which is that while language as a system is distinct (or rather, separate) from reality, it is not indeed contrary to it. Otherwise, I believe we would see more significant differences between the nature of things and the labels we place upon them. Rather, any given system of language is our attempt to parallel and understand reality. Thus, I cite language as an example of our isomorphic attempts to grasp at the true nature of reality.
Art and literature are also clear examples of this. Throughout history, we see groups of people use stories to better comprehend principles and truths around them, ex. myths to explain the origins of the universe. But even on a daily basis this is true. The theory of Narrative Identity in Psychology and hermeneutic epistemology proposes that one's identity is formed by integrating individual life experiences into an over-arching and evolving story of the "self". This happens very early in childhood development and is something I have seen personally while babysitting toddlers, who when alone and/or going to sleep often recount to themselves their daily lives and their future plans for tomorrow. This same idea is spoken about by popular writer Malcom Gladwell. The historical and modern use of art forms such as painting and theater do this very thing either on an individual level or on a scale of a nation, event, or larger idea. Through the use of propagandistic pieces like Death of Marat or the Aeneid, nations and people groups define their identity via a story of courage and power. But aside from clear attempts to define identity, literature and art often reveal deeper truths about reality. In The Seven Basic Plots, Christopher Booker highlights key themes and characteristics present across a wide selection of books, a connection that suggests something greater than just coincidence or plagiarism. Rather, these plot types, which include "Rags to Riches" and "The Quest" are direct reflections of human nature and our connections with the universe.
What I have suggested here sounds like a pretty lofty idea, however, despite the fancy labeling of an "isomorphic system," you probably already realize this on some level. As humans, we crave understanding and use many forms in order to satisfy this craving. But my point is larger than this. In creating this deeply layered connection between all these "areas of knowledge" and our attempt to understand the universe, I have really suggested something greater. What all of these examples have in common is the idea of a system, a set of connected parts comprising a complex whole. If we are to take anything from these isomorphic systems, it is that the universe itself is a system– it is orderly, has sets of rules, and is able to be understood on some level. Whether this conclusion is true, or whether humanity has completely failed in creating accurate isomorphisms that can parallel reality... you decide.
Written by Alexandra Kytka.
The following dialogue is an expansion of a brief conversation I had with my biology teacher, however, both members of the Dialogue are constructed by me and do not necessarily fully reflect the thoughts of my teacher or me.
Edmund: It's so strange to me how people like Aristotle or Dalton are often considered scientists when their theories were so far from the truth.
Peter: Well, science is a process, and part of that process is putting out hypotheses that later prove to be wrong.
Edmund: Even so, it's not only that their answers were wrong- their process that they used to get their answers was not a process at all- it was based on wild guesses more than observable reality. It makes you wonder if you can consider so-called early scientists scientists at all.
Peter: So if we are basing the title scientist on participation in observation and experimentation, does that mean the first scientist was Galileo? Even Copernicus who is often credited with the start of the heliocentric model of the universe focused on theoretical math. Galileo is renowned for actually looking at the sky to provide evidence.
Edmund: I'm not convinced even Galileo makes the cut. He did take a step in the right direction, but it wasn't until Darwin that we see the full scientific process.
Peter: I agree that the modern scientific process did not fully develop until around the time of Darwin but can't you argue that the development of the scientific process through the trial and error of previous scholars can itself be considered an essential part of the scientific process? After all, you can't judge someone according to a formal system that was created separately from their existence.
Edmund: I'm not saying that scholars like Newton and Galileo didn't contribute to science, rather that they can't be considered scientists themselves. You can argue that the development of the scientific process is part of the process itself, but I'm not convinced. The process of writing a song is distinct from the song itself.
Peter: I think it's problematic to define a scientist as you do. Your definition relies on the idea of an end, that is, that there is some end result to the development of the scientific process– that end, you claim, is found in Darwin. However, despite our egotistical claim of us reaching the "modern" age, there has been much progress even since Darwin in the development of the scientific method. Peer review, for example, is a long and strenuous process that scientists go through today in order for any of their work to be established as scientific fact. Yet, during the time of Darwin, peer review consisted only of being accepted into a journal. In other words, your definition of a scientist requires a constant re-evaluation of scientists who are subject to new aspects and innovations of the future scientific method.
Edmund: I believe you are pulling a straw-man and misrepresenting what I mean when I refer to the scientific method. Of course the process itself has changed and progressed over time, but the foundation of the scientific method is the idea of answers to these big questions being answered only in a natural way with no reference to supernatural forces. Even Issac Newton the father of the mechanical universe left his negative space to the elusive power of the almighty, a significant barrier in the way of true scientific innovation.
Peter: Hmmm. I think we are really getting somewhere now. Let me clarify. Your argument essentially revolves around the relationship between science and religion– you say that science done in tangent with the framework of a theistic world view will necessarily yield itself to using the supernatural instead of seeking the natural. A "God of the Gaps" if you will.
Edmund: Yes! You cannot be a scientist if you are relying on axioms that cannot be proven to fill the gaps where you have yet to find an answer.
Peter: But many argue that indeed all atheistic scientists do this very thing! Thinkers like David Hume and Friedrich Nietzsche point out that the entire institution of science is founded upon theistic axioms, presupposing the consistency and order of the universe as well as the reliability of human observation in order to come to any accurate conclusions about how the world works.
Edmund: This is the difference between a foundational assumption and a interpolating assumption*. Believing in observation and the order of the universe can be questioned but scientists take it as fact not because it is, but because it is practical in scientific work. Putting "God" in as an explanation does not help scientific work; it prevents a real genuine search for natural answers.
Peter: I think we are at the point where we would need to look more closely at specific theistic scientists and their work in order to precede.
Edmund: But wait, before we wrap up, what can we conclude? Who was the first scientist?
Peter: I'm not convinced we can nail down a particular figure as the first- after all, humans have been trying to understand the world systematically for most of their existence.
Edmund: I have yet to be convinced that pre-Darwinian thinkers can be considered to be using the scientific method. But I think there's a lot more to be said on this issue.
...to be continued
I really enjoyed exploring this new form of thinking. Let me know if you liked this mode of posting. I also fixed the comments section so try it out!
*these are not actual terms used in the professional academic world, but rather of my own creation.
As I was finishing up a biology lab, I came to a sudden halt in my conclusion and evaluation. My Group 4 IB Biology Lab had involved changing the wave-lengths of light absorbed in a mesocosm to see how the spectrum of light available to plants affected their photosynthesis. Realistically this meant that we grew radishes in bottles and changed the colors of the bottles for different conditions- clear, blue, green, and red. However, finding no red bottles available in the marketplace (c'mon Coca Cola, you really gotta get a move on), I resorted to wrapping a clear bottle with a (pink) clear wrap.
Flash foward to my sudden halt. I had assumed that pink had to be essentially red- after all, we get pink by mixing red and white, and white is just all the colors together. But someone else suggested it was closer to violet and here is where I stopped and stared into space... red and violet are on completely different sides of the light spectrum and yet we consider pink to be pretty close to both? And also now that I thought about it, red and blue yields purple but the wave-length of purple surpasses both red and blue? What's going on with the world?
Turns out there are pretty rational explanations to these questions and I was mixing up what's called additive and subtractive coloring, but that's besides the point. In asking these questions, I went far beyond what I had to do for any sort of coursework. In fact, the additional research (googling) I did will have likely no effect on my grade in any way. But this process is a perfect depiction of the real beauty of learning and its implications for the education system.
Some people make the mistake of assuming that students should love everything they are learning in school. As a result, many progressive schools are opting into 'design your own curriculum' programs where students choose what they want to study on a certain day. This sounds great, but in reality has some seriously terrible implications. If given the option of choosing whatever I wanted to study, likely I would not choose color theory- I probably wouldn't even know what that was. I can't say that the intersection of light and agriculture interests me more than anything in the world; but doing this particular lab and taking my particular biology class led me to exploring nuances of other subjects like color theory that I wouldn't have considered otherwise.
This isn't the only time that this has happened. My math class led me to cryptanalysis; my history class to economics. It is only by being exposed to a variety of disciplines at this age that I am able to really explore niche ideas and concepts that really have and keep a hold of my mind. The best part? No one knows what will fascinate me next.
- Alexandra G. Kytka
Don't forget to check out my podcast! Also, I have added and am continuing to update a "Projects" tab on the site in order to inform you of the various projects I am working on.