Constraining Courses
Math should not be a barrier to success in engineering.
By Henry Petroski
John Nash, the brilliant mathematician whose story was told in the book and movie A Beautiful Mind, and his wife, Alicia, were killed in late May when they were thrown from a taxi after the driver lost control of the vehicle and crashed on the New Jersey Turnpike. The taxi driver survived the accident; the Nashes apparently were not wearing seat belts.
Nash’s obituary in the New York Times, which began on Page One and continued for a full page inside, naturally described his life and career, including discussions of his mathematical accomplishments, his battle with schizophrenia, and his receiving a Nobel Prize for his work in game theory. What most caught my attention, however, was the comment that he was considered a child prodigy but “not a sterling student.”
His mathematical talent became apparent in high school, and like a lot of students who excel in math and science he set out to study engineering — his father’s field — at Carnegie Tech (now Carnegie Mellon University). But “he chafed at the regimented courses” and switched his major to mathematics at the encouragement of perceptive professors “who recognized his mathematical genius.” That is the way advising is supposed to work.
But from the point of view of many, if not most, engineering students, it is the required mathematics courses that are regimented. It is often those students who appear to have the most desire and raw talent to do engineering who chafe at the mathematics. Some of these students find themselves on the verge of transferring out of engineering because of their poor grades in math. A fear of math can also keep students from even entering engineering in the first place. I talked with a student last spring who wanted to switch his major from economics to engineering but feared that he did not have the mathematical aptitude for it.
What do we tell students who are not prodigies, geniuses, or star pupils in math about their chances of succeeding in engineering? What I usually tell them is that it takes passing grades in required math courses to get a degree in engineering, but it does not take outstanding grades to have a successful career in engineering. I know very successful engineers who think and talk like higher mathematicians; I also know very successful engineers who have gotten along with little more than trigonometry and algebra.
How and how much engineers need and use mathematics can be largely a matter of choice. Those who enjoyed and excelled in advanced math courses in college tend to gravitate toward areas of practice where the math and engineering go together. Those who wished math ended with pre-calculus often gravitate toward areas of design where conceptualizing and synthesizing are more important than optimizing.
That is not to say that mathematics and pragmatic work do not mix. William Baker, structural engineer of the Burj Khalifa, currently the tallest building on Earth, feels equally comfortable manipulating mathematical expressions and coming up with new structural systems and meaningful metaphors for explaining them. This was made perfectly clear to me the afternoon that he showed me the contents of his ever present notebook. He also shared with me the fact that when he was pursuing his master’s degree, his adviser tried to persuade him to stay on for a Ph.D. Had Baker done so, he might have been wooed so far over to the mathematical and theoretical side of structural engineering that the Burj Khalifa might not have gotten built, at least in the form Baker designed it.
Students who display talent should certainly be encouraged to develop it, but in the appropriate field and to the appropriate extent. Curricula and courses are constraining, but they should feel less so when they are in a field for which the student has a passion.
Henry Petroski is the Aleksandar S. Vesic Professor of Civil Engineering and a professor of history at Duke. His latest book is The House with Sixteen Handmade Doors: A Tale of Architectural Choice and Craftsmanship.
Photo by Catherine Petroski