All Posts Tagged With: "Waterloo"

Former student accused of bizarre e-mail and postering campaign

Waterloo Police have charged a 34-year-old former University of Waterloo student who they believe distributed bizarre anti-female posters and e-mails across campus this spring, reports The Waterloo Region Record. An e-mail claiming to be from the university’s president was circulated with an image of a nuclear bomb and French scientist Marie Curie, who discovered radium, along with a message that implied that women shouldn’t hold positions of power. “THE TRUTH. The brightest Woman this Earth ever created was Marie Curie, The mother of the Nuclear Bomb. You tell me if the plan of Women leading Men is still a good idea,” it read. Similar posters were then pasted over the campaign posters of female candidates during an student election. Many female students reported feeling uneasy about incidents. Zamir Nathoo of Kitchener, Ont. is charged with criminal harassment, personation with intent and mischief to property.

What the big thinkers know, what they’re trying to learn, and how close we may be to a genuine revolution

Not even the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics in Waterloo, Ont., is immune to the rhythms of the seasons. Summer there this year was quiet and casual, with several regular faces away on vacation. And yet there were plenty of signs that the little think tank is heading into an ambitious new era.

Stephen Hawking was on a six-week working visit from Cambridge, England. Every day you could see a caregiver pushing his wheelchair along the footpaths outside the building at surprising speed. The most famous scientist in the world does not like to dawdle. Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis has left him no control over most of his body. Twitching a cheek muscle to compose even a short sentence with his speech synthesizer can take 20 minutes. So he is keenly aware of wasted time. “I encouraged lots of people to go and talk to him,” Neil Turok, Perimeter’s South African director and a Hawking friend and colleague of long standing, told me.

“A lot of people did. Several of them came away saying, ‘I went and explained to him what I’m doing—and he didn’t seem very interested!’ I entirely sympathize with him. He has very high standards and if you start telling him something that doesn’t sound plausible he’ll very quickly tell you, ‘I’ve had enough.’ ”

Leonard Susskind, a white-bearded and soft-spoken Stanford University prof, was on a similar extended visit. Susskind has no human story of physical courage to match Hawking’s, but to physicists he is in Hawking’s intellectual class. He is a pioneer in the surreal but influential field of string theory, which describes a universe made of tiny vibrating strings curled up across many more dimensions than the three we know. Hawking and Susskind are two of Perimeter’s 20 Distinguished Research Chairs, eminent international theorists who visit Waterloo occasionally to work without the distractions of home.

Susskind spent much of his time in the third-floor lounge surrounded by groups of young scientists still in graduate school or fresh out. They would show Susskind their work, neat lines of equations on notepaper or hectic scrawls on the lounge’s blackboard. (Perimeter has hundreds of blackboards, in every office, conference room and coffee nook. They all get a lot of use.) Susskind’s questions would make his young visitors stare at the paper or blackboard for long minutes, as if hoping an answer would appear.

The day I arrived, the inaugural class of Perimeter Scholars International (PSI), an intensive master’s-level course in theoretical physics for students from around the world, held their convocation after a year’s intensive study. One of the most impressive was Bruno Le Floch, a 20-year-old ponytailed Frenchman who was one of the younger students in his class. “He’s just a genius,” Turok said. But he is also just a kid. So rather than dive into a theory career, Le Floch will spend the next year teaching in Cape Town at the African Institute for Mathematical Studies, which Turok founded in hopes of giving Africa’s best students a reason to stay at home and lead the continent’s intellectual development.

One day Stephen Harper visited Perimeter to announce a $20-million federal investment in Turok’s African initiative. One rarely has to wait long at Perimeter before somebody comes along with a gift of money. Often the visitor is a local boy who made good, Mike Lazaridis, the founder and co-CEO of Research in Motion.

Years ago, Lazaridis decided to put much of his fortune into an institute that would study the questions that fascinated him when he was a University of Waterloo engineering student. On one hand, Einstein’s theories of space, time and gravity. On the other, the odd but powerful insights of quantum mechanics. In 2000, with $100 million from Lazaridis and $20 million from two other RIM partners, the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics set up shop in the old post office building on King Street.

Since then it has grown steadily. In 2004, Perimeter moved into a slate-black 6,000-sq.-m building on the shore of Silver Lake in Waterloo Park. Already this summer, work crews were building an extension that will nearly double the institute’s floor space. Its faculty size will triple.

(Current full-time faculty is only 11, but if you add faculty it shares with area universities, visiting scholars, post-docs and graduate students, there are about 100 people thinking in the building on an ordinary day, and often about as many stopping through for a conference or seminar.) Enrolment at Perimeter Scholars International will double. The Distinguished Research Chairs will grow in number to 30.

But what do the people at Perimeter actually do? Many assume the institute must be the research and development branch of Research in Motion. This is not even remotely true. There are no laboratories at Perimeter. It has no equipment for manufacturing anything. There is very little in the sleek four-storey building except boxes of chalk and an excellent bistro.

But establishing what the Perimeter theorists don’t do is easier than explaining what they do.

Even they have learned to leave it vague. “When the neighbours ask, I say I just want to understand why the universe works the way it does,” said Chris Fuchs, a tremendously engaging Texan who has been a visiting scholar at Perimeter since 2007. “And that’s when they usually say, ‘Isn’t it great that Stephen Hawking’s there?’ And I say, ‘Yeah, it is.’ ”

What Perimeter’s theorists do is think, singly and in groups. Sometimes they scribble equations on the chalkboards to enlist colleagues and visitors in their attempts to solve some new or nagging riddle. Once I passed Fuchs’s office on my way to the third-floor pop machine. He was staring intently, slack-jawed, at the chalkboard that makes up one wall of his office. When I returned 20 minutes later he had not moved.

What they think about, from assorted conceptual angles that make up the subdisciplines of modern theoretical physics, are ways to refine, extend and, ideally, reconcile the two great early 20th-century advances in physics—general relativity and quantum mechanics. Relativity refers to Albert Einstein’s realization that space and time are aspects of the same thing, as are matter and energy. Einstein described how massive bodies like stars warp the space-time around them, bending the fabric of existence in a way we experience as gravity.

Quantum mechanics is the product of research into the behaviour of the component parts of atoms by Einstein’s contemporaries—Bohr, Heisenberg, Schrödinger and others. What they found is so odd it still puzzles physicists. A particle can sometimes be in one place and, in a way, somewhere else at the same time. Observing a particle to find out where it is destroys any chance of knowing for sure where it’s going. Two particles can become “entangled” so that a change to one particle will be reflected in a change to the other, no matter how distant.

In nearly a century of investigation, researchers have made great use of these odd insights. Electronics depends on the quantum behaviour of electrons moving through semiconductors. The same phenomena drive lasers, DVD players, computers, electron microscopes. The Nobel-winning physicist Leon Lederman has said that quantum mechanics is responsible for one-third of U.S. GDP.

Setting foot on campus… before September

When I left my chemistry lab exam last April, I thought the next time I’d be on Waterloo’s campus would be this September. Starting my second year. But last week, when I set foot on campus for the first time in over two months, I thought I was doing something blasphemous.

Going to school? During the summer? Even though I’d only be there for 10 minutes to hand in some forms, it felt like I was performing some obscene act. School and summer just don’t mesh.

I had the same expectations of visiting Waterloo’s campus during summer vacation as I would visiting my old high school. That it would be depressing. A reminder of past anxieties and worries. I was sure the whole visit would just be something to endure.

But as I walked around campus, seven weeks early, I realized something that surprised me.

I’ve missed being on campus.

Being an Only Child has its advantages

For the past two months I’ve been living like an Only Child.

Unlike my younger brothers, my summer vacation started at the end of April. Which means each week day, between the hours of nine and three, I’m an Only Child.

Suddenly the TV doesn’t have to be split five ways. Dexter doesn’t have to compete with SpongeBob Squarepants. If I want to use the computer, nobody’s in the middle of a Runescape battle.

And those four toaster slots? All mine.

With four siblings in the house, using a water bottle is complicated. At the very least, it’ll migrate: a water bottle that starts on the top shelf of the fridge never stays on the top shelf. It’ll either get buried somewhere else in the fridge, or disappear completely. Or the lid will vanish.

Even worse, a layer of backwash might suddenly appear on the surface.

Taking a sip from a water bottle, putting it back in the fridge, and finding it where I put it. It’s a special kind of luxury.

And it ends in less than a week.

- photo courtesy of .jo.hardell.

The joys of not sitting beside the Loud Whisperer

There are more than 300 students in my genetics class. With that many people crammed into a lecture hall, chances are, you’re probably sitting in front of a Sneezer.Or a Loud Whisperer.

Or a Person Who Somehow Keeps Bumping the Back of Your Head With Their Stupid Binder.

But during my last genetics lecture, I didn’t feel a single sneeze mist the back of my neck. My body space wasn’t invaded by someone else’s notebook, or bulky book bag. And I didn’t get stuck beside any of those people who don’t understand the finer points of whispering. Like, uh, actually whispering.

And at one point, when I didn’t quite understand something the professor had said, I just paused the lecture and referred to my textbook for clarification.

Yup. Podcasted lectures rule.

He’s the King of All Nerds, the Overlord of Physics, and he’s coming to Waterloo

Stephen Hawking. He’s the King of All Nerds. The Overlord of Physics. The Creator of Impressive-Sounding Theories that Some of Us Pretend to Understand. He’s revolutionized our understanding of black holes and the beginning of the universe. Most impressively, he’s appeared on Family Guy.

And this summer, he’s coming to Waterloo. As in, I’ll be breathing the same air as Stephen Hawking. My puny, average-sized human brain cells will be within a 20 kilometer radius of Stephen Hawking’s mega-sized “can legitimately use the phrase ‘quantum mechanics’ in a sentence” brain cells.

Never mind being within the same city limits as Stephen Hawking. Imagine being his child? Forget science fair projects about volcanoes and bread mold. When your dad is Stephen-freaking-Hawking, science fair projects are probably more along the lines of a fully-functioning particle accelerator. Instead of helping his kids with their homework, I bet he used to just say, “Oh, forget it,” and then shoved them out of the way.

But isn’t his quest for a ‘Theory of Everything’ kind of like licking every jelly bean in the bowl, just so your younger brothers can’t eat any? I mean, who does this guy think he is, anyway?

Oh. Right. Stephen Hawking.

Sometimes I’m reminded of the age gap between me and most other first-year university students. Meaning, my own immaturity smacks me right in the face. My anthropology professor recently announced that he’d be showing a documentary about baboons to the class. I knew we were all doomed as soon as I heard the title: “Primate [...]

Sometimes I’m reminded of the age gap between me and most other first-year university students. Meaning, my own immaturity smacks me right in the face.

My anthropology professor recently announced that he’d be showing a documentary about baboons to the class. I knew we were all doomed as soon as I heard the title: “Primate behaviour and social survival mechanisms involving hierarchal structures, as observed in populations of baboons in Kenya.”

It’s never a good sign when a title is long enough to justify a comma.

Worst of all, unlike in high school, watching a movie in a university class doesn’t mean a chance to catch up on your sleep. We were expected to take notes on the movie, since the material it covered could possibly appear on the mid-term.

Much to my shock, I actually enjoyed the documentary. I had figured that the subject matter- meaning, baboons- kinda limited the potential Enjoyability Factor of the documentary right from the start. I mean, I might watch a documentary about sharks or bats on my own time. But baboons? They don’t seem particularly intriguing or dangerous. They’re monkeys. With red-rimmed butts.

But the documentary was surprisingly interesting. Baboons actually form friendships with each other, which is something that I thought only humans did. They develop social bonds as a survival mechanism. For example, one baboon was left behind after it’s leg was seriously injured. After being exposed to the sun for hours, the baboon probably wasn’t going to make it- until one of its friends showed up, and helped it find the pack again.

At one point in the documentary, one of the baboons started to climb up a cliff, and inadvertdely exposed the largest testicles I’ve ever seen. Not that I’m checking out animals’ testicles, but I could hardly wait to get home and tell my 10 and 12-year-old brothers all about it. I admit, I laughed my head off.

The rest of the class was silent.

And surprisingly well-written

Describing a school textbook as “well written” would have seemed bizarre back in high school. Kind of like saying that the instructions on the back of a tile cleaner has a thrilling narrative. Maybe it’s just the new sense of ownership, but all of my university textbooks are actually really interesting.

Sure, I didn’t exactly spend the last few weeks of my summer vacation exploring my chemistry textbook. And I’m not claiming I’d ever buy any of these really expensive books if I didn’t have to. I can think of way more “interesting’” books to buy if I somehow found myself in Chapters with $1,400+ to spend. But unlike any textbook from high school, my political sciences textbook, as one example, is surprisingly well-written.

One chapter outlined the differences between studying political history and studying scientific history. The author explained how, when a new discovery is made in science, it obliterates everything that came before it. When scientific history is taught, it’s basically along the lines of, “People in the 16th century thought is was possible to transform lead into gold. Isn’t that cute?” The author argued that politics, on the other hand, is a continuing conversation. When someone has a new idea, unlike in science, it’s just a contribution to the conversation.

Never mind the fact that university textbooks seem more interesting than high school textbooks. After more than 12 years of public school, I learned to equate “textbook” with “public bathroom.” As in, they’re both usually covered in graffiti. And could use a good hosing. But now that I’m in university, I suddenly own my textbooks.

Meaning, for the first time ever, there aren’t any skeletal remains of a muffin or cookie in the spines of my books.