Pushing the Frontiers

Wait, what is the Higgs Particle? The magnification principle does what? I’m supposed to calculate the energy of a bottom quark traveling near the speed of light? After making it through the Frontiers of Science midterm, I couldn’t help but feel a slight hint of frustration toward the course. What was the point of that midterm? Perhaps it provides a nice way to balance out other midterms and give students a break. Upon closer reflection, however, the reality of what Frontiers represents for me is something much less superficial: the opportunity to enter the world of science.

Looking at the Core classes during the summer, it was evident that Frontiers of Science had a really negative reputation. As WikiCU likes to put it, “It is one of the most hated courses on campus.” Coming into my first semester of college, I was already predisposed to hate Frontiers. There is no escape from it—science majors think it’s too easy, and non-science majors think it’s too hard or useless. The fact that Frontiers is hated perpetuates the prejudice among the freshman class before it even arrives. This is not to say that every incoming freshman is predisposed to hate Frontiers, but the general negativity around campus towards the course does not aid its reputation. Such a judgment should come after taking the class, and even then, it should be based on one’s own experience, not a collective opinion. We as Columbia students owe it to ourselves (and our tuition) to give this Core class a chance because it has a lot to offer.

What makes Frontiers such a strong first-year course is its accessibility. Many will be quick to disagree, but when looked at closely, the information presented in lecture, the readings, and the discussion sections encompass the great bulk of the material for the quizzes and the weekly homework assignments. The accessibility of Frontiers, however, lies in the way material is presented. Each section is broken down into three lectures, each which builds upon each other. The material presented is in-depth enough to hold the interest of the crowd but still sufficiently general to provide incentive for further exploration. The diversity of the four units allows students to connect with a wide variety of material, ranging from human evolution to the nanoworld to, most recently, quantum mechanics.

This semester quantum mechanics was taught by professor Emlyn Hughes. Professor Hughes succeeded in making such a complicated topic accessible to a room of 500 first-years, especially to me—a potential biology major who had a horrible physics teacher in high school. Professor Hughes represents everything Frontiers gets right: accessibility of the material, but more importantly, the key to open the door to the world of science. Corny as it may sound, therein lies the importance of Frontiers—one that should not be marred by a belief in its uselessness or futility. The ability to make science accessible to such a wide range of undergraduates is paramount to a liberal arts college. Frontiers provides insight into topics that some students might not pay attention to otherwise. This insight can foster interest that may not have existed before, with the potential to keep growing beyond Frontiers.

While Frontiers may not have the same appeal to everyone, it is crucial to keep an open mind about the course before going into it. I subscribed to the negative prejudice almost a month and a half ago when I sat in Horace Mann for the first neuroscience lecture and thought to myself: What’s the point? But if we open our minds to the world of science, take the initiative, and maybe cross the threshold of the doors that Frontiers opens, then we might find ourselves more enriched.

The author is a Columbia College first-year.