* * *
“It’s a letter to the president of Fantasy Cola.”
“What happened? You lose a quarter in the machine at school?”
“No, Dad! This is serious! They’re using up all our oil and destroying the environment.”
“That is serious! Is there a Fantasy tanker leak, and it’s killing all the fish?”
“I said this was serious. Our science teacher told us about how they’re using plastic bottles even though it’s bad for the environment. Did you know those plastic bottles are made from oil? They’re using up all the oil, and the plastic ends in the trash, and it’s bad for the environment.”
“I see. But what about the letter?”
“Our teacher said if we wrote a letter to Fantasy, she’d add seven points to our grade. I could get an A in science just from this letter. She says if enough kids complain, Fantasy might change.”
“Sounds like a plan, Susie. What should they change to?”
“Glass bottles. Our teacher says glass is made out of sand, and the world is full of that. And you can just grind up the glass and make new bottles so it doesn’t fill up the garbage dumps.”
“Did your teacher mention that you can grind up the plastic and use it over again, too?”
“You can?”
“Did your teacher give you any kind of handout material about this problem?”
“No. She just told us about it and said to write the letters, and she’d send them for us.”
“I see. That’s Ms. Dobbs, isn’t it?”
“Uh huh.”
The next day Elliott made an appointment to see Ms. Dobbs.
“I understand you have the fifth graders crusading against plastic bottles, Ms. Dobbs.”
“Yes! Isn’t it exciting? They’re learning they can make a difference with just a little effort.”
“But I thought you were teaching science, not political action.”
“This is science, Mr. Townsend—environmental science.”
“Then you’ve surely analyzed the energy and pollution tradeoffs between plastic and glass.”
“What do you mean?” she responded.
“If you’ve concluded that glass bottles are environmentally preferable, you must have some scientific basis for it. Maybe you’ve done the analysis yourself, or maybe you’ve read a report.”
“Mr. Townsend, it is common knowledge in the environmental community that the less plastic you consume, the better off the environment is.”
“The literature I’ve read,” Elliott said, “shows that a glass bottle consumes much more energy to recycle than a plastic bottle. I just can’t understand your position.”
She paused in shock at the heresy. “I don’t know where you got your ridiculous information, but it’s not your position to question environmental science from your lay position.”
“I’m not questioning the science, just your knowledge of it. Environmental scientists employ the scientific method in gathering data rather than simply accepting what they read in the paper.”
“I received my information from a very reliable source,” Ms. Dobbs said in a slow staccato, “and it is my responsibility to ensure that my children understand the scientific issues. I demand you allow me to discharge my responsibility without any more of your emotional interruptions.”
“Pardon me, Ms. Dobbs, but I also have an interest in one of your children, and I don’t care for her head being filled with nonsense. And I fail to understand the link between science and political-action letters. When I learned science, we didn’t write protest letters, we studied scientific principles and worked problems. Maybe you should start an environmental-activist club to promote your views. But don’t use valuable science-class time to inflate your esteem in some yuppie cult. You’re a science teacher, Dobbs. That’s an exciting and challenging and terribly important job! But you’re diluting it with … with bullshit!”
“Since you have such a tainted view of my abilities as a teacher and such a vile way of expressing yourself, you should talk to our principal. He’s a man and might be able to appreciate your verbal defecation. His office is right next to the front door on your way out.”
“I appreciate your directions, Ms. Dobbs.”
Elliott then had a spirited discussion with Mr. Compton, which ended predictably.
That evening, he recounted his adventure to his family, knowing they would stand behind him and respect his efforts to right an unworthy world. A small chorus of gaping mouths greeted him. “There goes my A,” Susie said. “I’ll probably get a D. How could you be so stupid, Dad? I can’t go to school tomorrow. Compton will expel me. He expelled another kid over something like this. How could you be so stupid?” Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran from the room.
“Please don’t talk to my teacher, Daddy. I don’t want to get spelled because you’re so stupid.” With that, Luke trotted down the hall after Susie.
“What the hell got into you, Elliott Townsend? You think you’re such a smart guy,” Martha shouted shaking her head. “Why don’t you let the teachers teach, and you can go to your lab and do whatever you do there. What’s wrong with the kids getting some environmental awareness? And if Susie wants to write a letter to Fantasy or to Queen Isabella, what’s that to you?”
“But Susie didn’t want to—”
“Since when do you know so much about plastic and recycling? I’m sure Ms. Dobbs knows a lot more about that sort of thing than you do. You said yourself the kind of research you do doesn’t have anything to do with the real world, just quarks and quantum stuff that nobody else would ever care about. So why don’t you just keep your nose out of this environmental stuff?”
“Just because my work at the Lab is unrelated doesn’t mean—”
“And then you topped it off by opening your big mouth to the principal. Susie’s pretty upset. I’ve never heard her call you stupid before. And Luke—he’s always looked up to you. Go back to your lab, Dr. Townsend. Go count your quarks and write your equations. We can sure get along without your interference at home.”
This time Elliott made no response. He just studied the floor.
As time progressed, family emotions subsided, with Luke admitting Elliott back into the family first and Martha holding out the longest. Two months later, Susie announced at dinner that she was going to do a science-fair project.
“Can I help?” Luke interrupted. “You gonna build a rocket ship or a laser gun or something? I can help you build stuff. I help Daddy in the garage sometimes, don’t I Daddy.”
“Yes you do, Otter.” Elliott turned toward Susie and said, “He can be a big help to you, Susie—and so can I, if you want any help.”
“Well, another scientist in the family,” said Martha with a smirk. “Isn’t that interesting.” She glanced at Elliott who skillfully avoided her.
“What kind of project you going to do?” Elliott asked.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about something environmental—maybe about recycling or something like that. Ever since that Fantasy Cola letter, I’ve been thinking about it. I read somewhere you can even recycle plastic bottles, but I’m not sure exactly what to do.”
Martha said, “Have you asked that nice lady who teaches science? What’s her name?”
“Dobbs,” said Elliott.
“Yes, that nice Ms. Dobbs could help you. She knows a lot about environmental things.”
“If you’d like to kick around some ideas, just let me know,” Elliott said. “Why don’t you think about it and write down some ideas? Then we can get together and brainstorm it.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Maybe you can find the book where you read about recycling plastic bottles,” Elliott said.
“Sure.”
Elliott delivered some dishes to the kitchen where Martha was arranging the dishwasher like a vase of daisies. As he bent down to help, she whispered, “Don’t screw up this time, Ellio
tt.”
Susie spent her spare time at the library enchanted by engineering studies comparing paper, plastic, glass, and aluminum packaging. Her father had told her: “Start at the beginning, Susie.”
“What do you mean? Where else can you start? That’s what the start is, it’s the beginning.”
“Most people start in the middle or at the end. They think they know the answer before they even understand the question. That’s why you wrote to Fantasy telling them the answer was glass when you really didn’t understand the question. It’s easier to skip the beginning, but it can be pretty dangerous, too.”
Susie applied that wisdom to the science fair, exhausting the school library and turning to the city library. Elliott hoped it was the stirring of a great scientist. Martha hoped it would end peaceably.
“Susie at the library again?” Elliott asked after he walked in from work.
“Uh huh,” replied Martha, “Should be home any minute.”
“Can you believe how hard she’s been working on this science-fair thing?” Elliott asked. “I never expected it. Maybe she’ll turn out to be a scientist after all.”
Martha looked at him with a question in her eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“What are you talking about, Martha?”
“You really think she’s doing this for the science, don’t you?”
“Well, sure.”
“Come with me, Dr. Townsend.” He followed her into Susie’s room where she closed the door. There was a color poster advertising the “2010 Trumpet Elementary School Science Fair.”
“Wow!” he said. “First prize in each grade is a set of skis and boots or a mountain bike.”
“Now look at the grand prize.”
“Grand prize is a week at a ski resort or a dude ranch for a family of four. These prizes are terrific. They weren’t anything like this last year.”
“Not just the skis, Ted. She’s figuring on the grand prize. She told me that was going to be her Christmas present to the whole family next year. She’s put her trust in you to guide her.”
“She’s really getting into the science of recycling,” Elliott said.
“Just remember, she’s counting on you,” warned Martha.
“But never mind the prizes, she’s learning as much about recycling as many environmental engineers. Last week I noticed she hadn’t found anything about the differences in transportation energy used for different types of containers. I suggested that if she couldn’t find anything, she could do a simple analysis that I could help her with, but she’d need the weights of the different containers. Would you believe, last night she came and asked me to show her how to use that balance scale I have in the garage? I’ve never seen her so turned-on about anything.”
“I hope the judges can appreciate all this genius.”
“How can they help but recognize the merit of her work. She’s taking a really scientific approach—no slogans or gimmicks or hype, just facts and logic and analysis and tons of references. I think she’s doing a terrific job!”
“I hope so.”
A few days later, Elliott received a recruiting notice from Trumpet for science-fair judges. Elliott submitted his resume as requested and mailed it back to the school.
Two weeks before the science fair, he received a letter saying, “Despite your fine credentials, we have been unable to secure a judging position.” Elliott knew exactly who made that decision, and before he even recognized his emotions, he was dialing Compton’s number. Compton’s voice-mail answered. The distant beep brought Martha’s words back to him. This was the screw up she’d warned him about. He replaced the receiver silently.
“Dobbs!” he whispered.
The night before the science fair, the whole family was in the basement, helping put the finishing touches on Susie’s display. It summarized the results of three months of research in thirty-two square-feet of poster board plus a small tabletop.
The main poster in the center presented process flow charts for the recycling of each type of container showing the inputs of materials, energy, labor, and capital and the outputs of containers, air pollution, water pollution, and solid residues. There were separate flow charts for paper, plastic, aluminum, and glass containers.
The two side-posters described the issues and related them to the flow charts: health risks, environmental effects, environmental costs, recycling problems, transportation costs, refill vs. recycle, advanced production technologies, economic efficiency, and references.
The tabletop was reserved for conclusions, which were displayed in an elaborate three-dimensional Lego matrix. Susie arranged the conclusions in one dimension according to the container function. Another dimension was divided into the percentage of the containers that was recycled. The third dimension was comments.
Her conclusions were startling according to the standard wisdom. Even with no recycling, the plastic containers won the competition for most frugal energy consumption; and at high recycling rates, only aluminum cans came close to plastic in energy efficiency. The paper vs. plastic bag was no contest. If all the plastic bags were thrown in the trash and all the paper bags were recycled, the plastic bags were still more environmentally benign than the paper bags, even if you use two plastic bags for every one paper bag.
About a week before the science fair, Susie and Elliott had spent one whole evening making sure there were data and references to support each conclusion. “But this isn’t what Ms. Dobbs and everybody else says, Dad. Even if you go to the grocery store, they use paper bags because everybody says the plastic is so bad. I don’t think the judges will believe this. Maybe I should change my conclusions so plastic doesn’t do so good.”
Then Elliott spoke. “Everything we have today—CDs, videos, fancy bikes, medicines—all these things happened because scientists were stubborn and listened to their data and their visions instead of what everybody said. If you turn your back on the truth, you can never be a scientist … or a woman.”
“How can my conclusions possibly be right when everybody knows it’s just the opposite?”
“You’re learning a lesson in the difference between the truth-as-somebody-would-like-it-to-be and the truth-as-it-is. The truth-as-somebody-would-like-it-to-be is whatever is popular, whatever the fad is. Something becomes true if enough people want it to be.”
“Which truth is the right one? There can’t be two truths, especially if they’re opposite.”
“Remember when we went skiing in March? You’d been looking forward to that weekend for so long that you were convinced the skiing was going to be great. But it wasn’t so great, was it. Remember how warm it was and how the snow got real slushy and then turned to ice late in the afternoon? But you were convinced it was great snow, and you went blasting down through those trees and hit that patch of ice and wiped out and ripped a gash in your leg.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“The great skiing was the truth-as-you-wanted-it-to-be, and the ice was the truth-as-it-was.”
“Suppose I skied through the ice without falling? Then which truth would be right?”
“Then you’d have been lucky. The truth-as-it-is doesn’t always bite you in the butt. Sometimes you get lucky.”
“But what about this recycling thing, Dad? What’s going to happen when everybody finds out they’ve been wrong?”
“How are they going to find out?” Elliott asked.
“I’m going to have this big display, and everybody’s going to see the truth-as-it-is!”
“How many people do you think will see it?” Elliott asked.
“I’ll bet a couple thousand people will come to the science fair, and they’ll all see it!”
“This is a local grade-school science-fair, Susie. Maybe a couple hundred parents will come. Maybe half of them will walk past your display. Half of those will—you keeping track, Susie?”
“Right, a hundred will pass, and now w
e’re down to fifty.”
“Ok, and maybe those fifty will stop to look, and maybe half of those will actually read something, and maybe half of those will understand anything about what you did, and maybe half of those will believe you. And you always overestimate these things by at least a factor of two, so what do we end up with?”
“You mean I gotta divide by two? Then, I guess about … three people.”
“Ok, you’ve communicated your message to three people.”
Susie stared at her pile of notes and data. “You mean I did all this just for three people?”
“No, you did it for just one person. You did this for yourself, and nobody else.”
“Suppose some reporter sees it and puts it on the TV. Then a lot of people would see it.”
“I guess there’s a slight chance of that if two things happened. First, you’d have to win first place. And second, we’d have to tell them you were abandoned by your parents as a baby, and you’ve been living in the back of a Chevy pickup with your uncle ever since. Oh, by the way, you’ve got too many legs, too. You’d have to get rid of one of your legs so you wouldn’t be able to use the skis you won. The media likes that human interest stuff, it’s what they specialize in.”
“Dad, quit joking now. Do you really think they might put it on TV?”
Elliott looked away at an old TV in the corner. “Maybe, Susie. Maybe.”
“Newspapers print news, right? And this is news, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s not quite that simple. The newspapers are in business, so they print what they think their customers want. If they don’t tell them what they want to hear, some other paper will, and that’s how you lose customers.”
“I don’t understand. I thought news was news.”
“You’re probably right. I just made it too complicated,” Elliott sighed.
“But suppose the judges believe in that other kind of truth. Then this is all for nothing.”
“That isn’t going to happen. I can’t promise you’ll take any prizes, but this is a fantastic project. The judges are professionals, and they’ll judge it on its scientific merits. I may not know much else, but I’m a good physicist and I know good science when I see it, and what you’ve done is really something. I’m so proud of you. You just can’t imagine.” Elliott squeezed her. “What you have here goes way beyond the fifth-grade level, Susie.”