Martin Wolf was School of the Art’s very own Bill Nye , the Science Guy. He even resembled Bill Nye—tall, lanky, dark-haired, occasionally wearing a bow-tie to complement his neatly ironed button down shirt. In every way Martin was the epitome of a budding scientist, and he chose to practice his passion by honoring his friends and my home room students to “Science Fridays,” an occasional series of experiments and presentations designed to impress us all with the awesome power of science.
Recently I emailed Martin regarding these experiments because I wanted to write about them, but felt that I was not “scientifically inclined” enough to describe them in detail or do them justice. Martin quickly replied back to my email request with the following:
“I remember about 4 of the experiments! We can start with the one with clear the water filled balls. Those were polymers! (Which are mostly Carbon and Hydrogen atoms linked together in long chains. There are many different kinds, but the ones we saw absorbed water over night, which made them have an "index of refraction" almost equal to the water they were in, and also really squishy (because they are, at that point, mostly water)! So that means that when light passes through them, they bend the light in almost the same way that the water did, and that makes them invisible! I still have some, so when I come home at the end of May, I'll be happy to give you a jar if you'd like!
Another one I remember was something called "Jacob's Ladder." We passed electricity through a transformer that gave it a higher voltage, and then it arced across two copper wires. Also, you can go up to my dad's room and ask him to show you it again, if you'd like! He says he'd be happy to do it."
He went on to describe an experiment he called “floating bubbles ” and his “spontaneous combustion” fiasco:
"And finally, the spontaneous combustion! (How can we ever forget?) This one was really simple, but it was still my favorite (Partly because of the chemistry, but partly because of people's reactions...including my own!)
We had a ceramic "evaporating dish" filled with finely powdered potassium permanganate (KMnO4), which looks like a grey sand. Next, we added about a teaspoon of glycerine (it kind of sounds like a cooking show, doesn't it?) and waited about a minute for the reaction to start.
It was..
KMnO4 + C3H5(OH)3 ==> K2CO3 + Mn2O3 + CO2(g) + H2O(g) + HEAT!!!
Or, in words, potassium permanganate + glycerin (yields) potassium carbonate + manganese(III) oxide + carbon dioxide gas + water vapor + HEAT!!!!
And of course, the heat is what we saw as the flames! Here's something to remind you (in case somehow you managed to forget...if you have, tell me how, because that was one of the top ten scariest moments of my life! All I could think of while the smoke filled the room was how I would try and explain to my mom how I burnt down Creative Writing's brand new Mac computer cluster!).
I hope that is a good start! If you need me to be more or less scientific than I was before, just ask! I'll be happy to explain anything and everything however you'd like.”
In typical Martin fashion, he left nothing out in his long email reply, even referrring me to youtube video links of the aforementioned experiments and making sure that I could turn to his Dad, a colleague who taught science, for further explanation. When I thanked him for all of this helpful information, because (as I had written) I was not “scientifically-inclined,” he reassuringly emailed me back again:
"
You don't need those videos to be ‘scientifically inclined.’ I think we're all scientifically inclined. Science is the manifestation of curiosity, in my opinion. We all cannot know the right names of chemicals...we can't all be able to explain why ice floats, or why cats have stripes. But we all can be curious! It's our just our way. And it's purely curiosity that will drive science onward through the years...not fancy terminology!
So from one scientist to another, I hope you find what you are looking for in your writing. Cheers, Martin!"
During the year, students in the AP English Language and Composition class worked on poetry projects, choosing an American poet to read and then present to the class. Martin chose Marianne Moore and on his day to present he surprised all of us by coming to class in costume with a black tricorn hat and cape—his attempt to represent Ms. Moore to the best of his ability.
Later in that school year, I offered the class a challenge: any student who would read Herman Melville’s Moby Dick and write a brief paper about the book could receive an A+ for the last marking period. Martin and his best friend took up the challenge, reporting back to me about their progress. Halfway through the book, Martin sent me a Facebook message: "Ms. Gamzon, you make me like the elegance of English almost as much as Science!" That was a huge compliment for English studies coming from a science lover! Then a week before the end of the year, he reported back: "Only 98 pages left of Moby Dick, Ms. Gamzon!" Of course, he finished the book, wrote the paper, and received an A+ for the marking period.
Yet it was another aspect of Martin that made him so much more than just our own Bill Nye, the Science Guy. On a class blog where we were discussing various literary critical theories, I found this post from Martin:
“Everything happens for a reason, Martin,” my grandmother told me when I burnt my favorite childhood hat next to the wood burning stove. It was a lovely hat, made of wool so colorful it brightened my day every time I wore it. From a structuralistic point of view, the burning of the hat would be only a sign of the painful times to come. That winter would be the coldest winter in my past. You see, structuralism states that all of humankind’s characteristics: our actions, our deeds, our literature and our lives are a system of signs which are not to be overlooked. Structuralists such as Roman Jacobson, Claude Lévi-Strauss, and Roland Barthes attempted to develop a semiology; a form of science which analyzes these signs in our history and literature. Naturally, the Science of English would greatly appeal to me. So, why Structuralism? Why study the events of the past, hoping to decode what may take place in the future? Because it cannot easily be done, and a good mind always accepts the challenge. I would have never guessed that the burning hat, the symbol of the “cold winter” could have meant anything more than my ears would be frostbitten. I would never have known that that particular winter would play host to the death of my grandmother there with me when my hat burned. Nor would I ever have guessed that the rosebush she planted many years before would not grow that spring. A sign so seemingly, painfully obvious was cast aside as I scorned at my silly mistake of putting my hat too close to the fire. And yet, who knows how many symbols are left enduring undiscovered by me at this very moment. Structuralism would dictate that everything, all these little actions, feelings, and decisions, will return to influence the system of life in my future."
Martin is now my sign—the core of my own semiological pursuits in literature, my own structuralist belief in a sort of zeitgeist of awareness that sweeps over all us, making us look for signs and synchronicities in our life. Every time I am faced now with a challenge of disinterest, rudeness, misbehavior on a minor or large scale in some of my classes, I can read that passage over, think about Martin, our Bill Nye the Science guy and how he became valedictorian, and gave such a wonderful speech at graduation, and is now at Princeton where “Cheers” as an email sign off might be very popular among his Ivy league friends and certainly charming to his old high school teacher.
I love Martin and he continues to inspire me. I’ve even managed to almost forgive him for nearly blowing up the new computer writing lab on a very memorable Science Friday.
