Tag: writing

“Returning to Table: tradition
To celebrate in rhymed rendition,
Artistic chem-sorter.
The elements’ order;
Ranked properties— note from positions!”

The 3 April 2024 Twitter limerick celebrated a common early theme from these National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) routines: the Periodic Table of the Elements.  As the title notes, it was thus the “table’s turn” for a poetic highlight.  

“Returning to Table: tradition /
To celebrate in rhymed rendition…”

The Periodic Table of the Elements (PTE) is one of my favorite topics for an early limerick in this annual series.  As a common sight in science classrooms, it is a more accessible topic than many chemistry vocabulary terms that might subsequently be poetically celebrated later in the month.  The story behind Dmitri Mendeleev’s insight in developing the precursor to the modern PTE is both compelling and relatively novel for many audiences.  

These general aspects combine to make the PTE a likely subject to celebrate early on in this “tradition,” via “rhymed rendition.”

“Artistic chem-sorter.”

Sam Kean’s book The Disappearing Spoon includes an interesting approach to the PTE that I’ve occasionally noted in teaching: simply examining its shape. He writes, “Before introducing the periodic table, every teacher should just strip away all the clutter and have students just stare at the thing, blank.  What does it look like?”  

Considering the appearance of the PTE acknowledges its distinctive image as an “artistic chem-sorter.” 

“The elements’ order; /
Ranked properties— note from positions!”

Why is the periodic table posted so widely in science classrooms?  It orients an enormous amount of chemistry-pertinent information within a compact space.  

By examining the order of elements on the PTE, a chemist can determine atomic number (number of protons), bonding behavior (via number of valence electrons), etc.  Likewise, as celebrated in the last line, by comparing the relative placement of two elements on the periodic table, a chemist can explain several qualitative trends between them: Which element has a larger atomic radius?  Which element is more electronegative?  The “ranked properties” can be “note[d] from positions.” 

“A series new-braving the elements:
Some humorous rhymes and some eloquent
(And many just practical!)
Will yield routine tactical
In sixth trial of month’s experiment.”

The 2 April 2024 Twitter limerick laid out the scope and main goals of the month’s writing project. 

“A series new-braving the elements…”

The first line of this limerick had inspired its ensuing rhymes: in drafting the poem, I had been surprised I hadn’t already borrowed the idiom “braving the elements,” in any of my poems and posts previous.  As with past years, the 2024 series of posts would examine the overlap of chemistry and poetry, including common subjects such as elements, the periodic table, and scientific biographies.

“Some humorous rhymes and some eloquent /
(And many just practical!)”

Lines 2 and 3 offered a relatively prosaic take (if still in lyric form!) on the poems posted here.  While some verses posted on this site achieve more of the light tone truly associated with limericks, and some strive for eloquence, the vast majority have begun from the practical fact that many scientific terms are words that have interesting rhymes.  

“Will yield routine tactical /
In sixth trial of month’s experiment.”

I’ve written before about this, but perhaps not this bluntly: part of what is most helpful about the April poems is that I can revisit them weekly here, thus finding a way to fit some creative writing into the challenging chaos of an academic year.  Completing NaPoWriMo is very much a “routine tactical.”  

Iteration is inherent in many aspects of the scientific method, as experimental approaches require time and repetition to optimize; that theme finds an echo in the last line here.  This particular creative writing routine can be considered as an experiment in its own right, with April 2024 as, correspondingly, the sixth trial. 

“In April starts rhymed resolution:
Frame STEM terms in new distributions
Through verse forms familiar.  
The metrics auxiliar
Yield chem-art-poetic collusion.”

The 1 April 2024 Twitter limerick began my sixth attempt at National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo); it also provides a good opportunity to return to this website’s posting routine, for the 2024-25 academic year.  

“In April starts rhymed resolution: /
Frame STEM terms in new distributions /
Through verse forms familiar…”

A calendar year has many different types of starts.  The two most obvious are January 1, of resolution fame, and the start of the academic year in late August.  However, it’s also been fun since 2019 to add a small, self-contained routine in April, writing thirty poems over the month’s thirty days, for National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). Most of these poems are science-themed: “STEM terms in new distributions / [t]hrough verse forms familiar.”

“The metrics auxiliar /
Yield chem-art-poetic collusion.”

A common theme on this website is that using the artistic techniques of light verse can perhaps help illustrate chemistry concepts in a supportive way.  The lines of limericks and double dactyls ideally become “metrics auxiliar.”  

The month is a chance to formally explore the overlap of chemistry, art, and poetry, described in verse form as “chem-art-poetic collusion.”  The thirty resulting poems from April can then provide the substance of several future weeks of posts’ topics here.

The classic “Uncleftish Beholding,”
A new chem-ken constantly molding:
Terms retro-translated;
In prose, aggregated.
New insights: abiding, unfolding.  

In this particularly busy season, the second of my two Summer 2024 posts will also build on a non-Twitter poem that relates to a recent conference presentation. (After this post, I’ll pause until the new school year begins, to resume a regular posting routine.)   

I gave a talk last week at the 2024 Biennial Conference on Chemical Education, held this year in Lexington, Kentucky.  In this case, one major focus of my presentation was the potential of author Poul Anderson’s renowned essay “Uncleftish Beholding” for helping students to look beyond memorized chemistry vocabulary to the concepts underneath. 

Given the number of quotes I’ll use here, I’ll double my typical goal and aim to keep things under 560 words, starting now.     

The classic “Uncleftish Beholding,” /
A new chem-ken constantly molding…

Poul Anderson (1926-2001) was an award-winning science fiction writer whose work explored many aspects of the overlap of science and languages.  “Uncleftish Beholding,” from his book All One Universe, is an inventive essay that explains atomic theory with a vocabulary that uses only Germanic-root terms, avoiding words originally from other languages.  [Within this rule, “atomic” (since it is derived from Greek and Latin) must become “uncleftish,” while “theory” (derived from Greek) similarly becomes “beholding.”]   

This set of rules refocuses attention on the meanings of the underlying concepts, “constantly molding” a “new chem-ken”: yielding new insights into and enhanced understanding of chemistry.

Terms retro-translated; /
In prose, aggregated.

Here is a paragraph from Anderson’s essay, with my interpretations of the pertinent concepts italicized in brackets:

“The worldken of this behaving [the study of this behavior], in all its manifold ways [in all its complexity], is called minglingken [chemistry]. Minglingers [chemists] have found that as the uncleftish tale of the firststuffs (that is, the tale of firststuffs in their kernels) waxes [as the atomic numbers of the elements increase], after a while they begin to show ownships not unlike those of others that went before them [periodic behavior can ultimately be observed among them]. So, for a showdeal [for an example], stonestuff (3), glasswortstuff (11), potashstuff (19), redstuff (37), and bluegraystuff (55) can each link with only one uncleft of waterstuff [lithium (atomic number 3), sodium (atomic number 11), potassium (atomic number 19), rubidium (atomic number 37), and cesium (atomic number 55) each bond to only one hydrogen atom], while coalstuff (6), flintstuff (14), germanstuff (32), tin (50), and lead (82) can each link with four [carbon (atomic number 6), silicon (atomic number 14), germanium (atomic number 32), tin (atomic number 50), and lead (atomic number 82) can each bond to four hydrogen atoms].  This is readily seen [this periodic behavior can be observed] when all are set forth in what is called the roundaround board of the firststuffs [the Periodic Table of the Elements].”

-From Poul Anderson’s “Uncleftish Beholding”

In Lines 3-4, I characterize Anderson’s essay as “terms retro-translated; in prose, aggregated.”  Reading the piece requires intentional concentration, as the mesmerizing, old-fashioned-seeming terms accumulate.  (On a comparable note, in preparing my talk, I was fascinated to find Douglas Hofstadter’s Le Ton beau de Marot: In Praise of the Music of Language, which includes a chapter analyzing and extending Anderson’s piece. For instance, Hofstadter discusses Einstein’s theories as the work of “old One Stone,” taking Anderson’s vocabulary constraint and adding in a new one: of using all-one-syllable words!  It was a similarly rewarding reading experience.)

New insights: abiding, unfolding.

This academic year was the first time I deliberately taught “Uncleftish Beholding” in a class, sharing it– after much background information– with an upper-level chemistry lecture course.  I was impressed with how enthusiastically students responded to the unusual exercise; their discussion and the resulting coursework had been the substance of my BCCE talk.  

The title of this post takes the phrase “holding patterns” as its inspiration, but it also can be read as observing known concepts in unusual contexts: i.e., the steps necessary to translate this essay into modern chemistry vocabulary.  This duality lines up well with the limerick’s final line; Anderson’s essay is continually both a reminder of “abiding” scientific knowledge and an “unfolding” inspiration.

STEM texts can overemphasize the lingo,
And walls imposing build, unseen, in limbo.  
We need other pages– stat!  
Note from the stage is that 
“Someone oughta open up a window…”  

The summer always passes rapidly, but this year has seen a dramatically faster pace than the last few.  I wanted to at least use this space to reflect on the conferences I have had and will have the chance to attend this year, and thus record at least two summer 2024 posts before classes begin again next month.

My first conference ended earlier this week; set in Philadelphia at the phenomenally interesting Science History Institute, the meeting had focused on the importance of storytelling in teaching science.  

This non-Twitter poem builds toward a famous line from a famously Philadelphia-set musical, the historical drama 1776, in highlighting some of the themes I saw as a chemistry educator attending the conference.  (The post title is intended both to note the interdisciplinarity of the conference and to imply the importance of “reading,” or story, in doing so!)      

“STEM texts can overemphasize the lingo, /
And walls imposing build, unbid, in limbo.” 

A common theme in this space is that of jargon, the specialized “lingo” necessary for scientists to communicate efficiently.  Introductory STEM textbooks often involve a tremendous amount of challenging vocabulary without (in my experience) convincingly illustrating to students that they are doing so.  This can result in unintended but challenging barriers as one is learning: “walls imposing buil[t], unbid, in limbo.”    

“We need other pages– stat!”

The phrase “other pages” stands in for novel approaches: here, the use of narrative storytelling exploring the history and concepts of STEM, as discussed at the meeting.  The use of “stat!” notes the importance of such creativity (and sets up Line 4’s rhyme!).  

“Note from the stage is that /
‘Someone oughta open up a window…’”     

The stage musical 1776 is set during the meetings of the Second Continental Congress leading up to the Declaration of Independence.  The opening number is entitled “Sit Down, John,” as a generally frustrated Congress exhorts John Adams to be silent.  Several lines comment on the heat wave ongoing in the city and the hope for some relief, as with: “Someone oughta open up a window!”  (Lines 1, 2, and 5 in this limerick build on the memorable rhythm of this lyric.)  

I’ve seen jargon characterized as a potential wall before, and it’s been intriguing to consider routes contending with such a barrier, from turning it onto its side to convert it into a bridge to (here) “opening up a window” within that wall.  Borrowing that “note from the stage” seems apt, as interdisciplinary conversations can allow glimpses of other fields… and provide some fresh air.

“Concluding: the fifth iteration
Through writing and STEM combination;  
The routine completing, 
In latest repeating 
Of chem-concept verse calibration.”  

The 30 April 2023 Twitter limerick marked the end of my fifth attempt at the National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) process; this post likewise draws the latest round of poem-translating essays to a close, for the 2023-2024 academic year.

“Concluding: the fifth iteration /
Through writing and STEM combination…”  

As noted above, NaPoWriMo 2023 was my own fifth attempt (“fifth iteration”) at this popular poetry-writing routine.  These brief essays have now been welcome distractions and exercises through several unusual academic years.  The challenge of writing about STEM concepts in a way that is largely jargon-free and thus (ideally!) more fun for general readers is one that remains rewarding, several years into maintaining this website.       

“The routine completing, /
In latest repeating /
Of chem-concept verse calibration.”  

I am generally in awe of the scientists and doctors who manage significant creative writing projects in the midst of their everyday careers.  For instance, Richard Selzer’s described habit of consistently waking at 1 a.m. to write until 3 a.m., while maintaining his “day job” as a physician, has stayed with me for decades, ever since I encountered his eloquent essays in an undergraduate course.  

For my own part, while I’ll never be able to aspire to two overnight hours per day, I find that one morning of creative writing once a week can still make a tremendous difference, and the “chem-concept verse calibration” of the previous April is what makes it possible, at this reasonable scale. The 280-word limit for these posts, inspired by Twitter’s former 280-character constraint, works well for my own writing routine during an academic year.  

Here at the end of Spring 2024, I have just finished (as of yesterday!) a new set of Twitter poems to revisit in the next academic year; I hope to also take some time during mid-summer to write some longer pieces in this space.  For the near future, though, I will pause posts here for a few weeks, noting and celebrating the end of a challenging spring semester.  

“The stress of week’s finals: diminishing;
The projects, exams, and tests: finishing;
Semester: diminuent;
The summer: soon-imminent;
Commencement: approaching, distinguishing.”

The 29 April 2023 Twitter limerick is, most likely, self-explanatory.  However, it is worth a few additional lines as the Spring 2024 semester likewise draws to a close.

“The stress of week’s finals: diminishing; / 
The projects, exams, and tests: finishing…”

In the routine I’ve now used for several years with this website, the thirty poems generated for each April’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) match up reasonably well with the two fifteen-week semesters of the “next” academic year, making them logical topics to revisit in these brief essays. For instance, during this 2023-2024 academic year, I was glad to revisit the first half of the April 2023 NaPoWriMo sequence during Autumn 2023, and now to (nearly) finish the second half of the April 2023 sequence during Spring 2024. 

We are currently in Finals Week for Spring 2024.  While it is a hectic time, we’ve just passed the halfway point, so we are drawing near to the sense of “diminishing” stress that is commemorated in this poem.    

“Semester: diminuent; /
The summer: soon-imminent; /
Commencement: approaching, distinguishing.”

The hours of the semester are dwindling; the academic summer break (even if it seems early compared to the seasonal calendar!) is imminent.  The graduation ceremony– always a welcome, momentous occasion– is on the horizon. 

In writing, wrest wit from the chatter
As concepts reorder, blend, scatter.
The plotline is changing
With themes rearranging:
A book’s conservation of matter. 

This specific poem was not posted on Twitter first.  It was aligned along themes similar to those of the poems posted during National Library Week 2023, which I’ve been revisiting lately.  However, it had also seemed like it would benefit from more immediate context, so I postponed it entirely until this spring.

This limerick takes its inspiration from another famous writer’s quote in highlighting another chemistry theme.  Cormac McCarthy, who won the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, among many others, stated in a 1992 interview: “Books are made out of books.”    

In writing, wrest wit from the chatter /
As concepts reorder, blend, scatter…

The first few lines acknowledge the combinatorial thought processes that accompany creative efforts.  I am personally most familiar with scientific journal articles.  These begin with discussions of previous literature, placing the original experimental work that will be discussed in the context of what’s come before. 

In starting to teach non-chem courses, moreover, it has been fascinating to learn more about how such efforts are widespread: both historically apparent, through such artifacts as commonplace books and florigelia, as well as currently evident, in the daily routines of artists across many fields.  I’ve also written previously about the power of juxtaposition: how new ideas emerge from considering “chance encounters” of past works or existing ideas.  

Thus, writing “reorders, blends, scatters” work that has come before, to ultimately generate new ideas and expressions, “wrest[ing] wit from the chatter.”     

The plotline is changing /
With themes rearranging: /
A book’s conservation of matter. 

Encountering McCarthy’s quote last spring, I was reminded of the themes communicated by a balanced chemical reaction. 

Part of Dalton’s atomic theory (a key idea in chemistry) is the statement that a balanced chemical reaction neither creates nor destroys matter, but instead rearranges it.  In a sample combustion reaction, for instance, none of the atoms in the reactant molecules of methane (CH₄) and oxygen (O₂) are lost. They are instead rearranged into the products of carbon dioxide (CO₂) and water (H₂O), shown below.

CH₄ + 2 O₂ → CO₂ + 2 H₂O

Likewise, as exemplified in the statement that “books are made of books,” rearrangement and conservation are evident in other combinatorially creative processes.    

“Remarkable, notable quality–
A book’s fundamental centrality
In reading’s conjunctions
Of path and state functions:
Safe travels and home’s hospitality.”

The next Twitter limerick continued the focus of National Library Week 2023; it was posted on 28 April 2023.  As with the past few poems, it highlighted a specific writer’s quote that overlapped in an interesting way with a chemistry concept.  

Here, the original quote was from renowned author Anna Quindlen, in How Reading Changed My Life: “Books are the plane, and the train, and the road.  They are the destination, and the journey.  They are home.”  

“Remarkable, notable quality– /
A book’s fundamental centrality /
In reading’s conjunctions /
Of path and state functions…”

I return often, on this website, to the metaphorical values of state and path functions. State functions, like altitude, are mathematical functions that can be evaluated simply by knowing the initial and final state of the system (the starting and ending points); path functions, like distance, require knowledge about the specific path (what’s in between). 

Different aspects of these mathematical approaches are helpful to chemists in different ways.  For instance, the value of the change in a state function for a cyclic process can be set equal to zero, since the initial and final states are the same. The system ends up right where it started, simplifying several resulting mathematical applications.  (With respect to this last note and its overlap with this quote and poem, I also always think of another famous literary quote, G. K. Chesterton’s statement that “[t]here are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there.  The other is to walk round the whole world until we come back to the same place.”)   

Anna Quindlen’s quote evokes aspects of both path and state functions: celebrating the immense and wide-ranging values of books, naming their abilities to both transport and comfort.  Readers take epic journeys from the comfort of their living rooms; they also bring familiar narratives along when they face challenges or travels of their own.  A book accompanies the reader along their path; it also welcomes them home. Reading is a “conjunction of path and state function.”     

“Safe travels and home’s hospitality.”   

The last line summed up the poem’s theme, juxtaposing guided adventure and welcome return.