As I progress through the second semester of my second year at Mount St. Joseph, I’m recognizing all the ways that my classes intersect.
I am especially aware that my astronomy course draws on an interdisciplinary knowledge base which prompts me to make connections between classes and enhances my learning.
Every Wednesday evening I attend Dr. Mark Fischer’s astronomy class. Over the semester we’ve discussed many topics—the scientific method, cosmology and models of the universe, constellations, Newton’s and Kepler’s laws, the nature of light, types of telescopes, and much more.
Physics has been a constant part of the course, understandably. The movement of planets and stars are all quantified through physics. Gravity, electromagnetism, and light are explained with physics. Everything in the class is physics—and therefore mathematical. Physics is the core of astronomy.
A less expected connection within the course is to chemistry. I first learned dimensional analysis (converting a value between units) in chemistry, and the skill is needed in astronomy too. Spectroscopy is also a vital part of astronomical studies of stars and celestial phenomena. By analyzing the light emitting from something in space, scientists can use chemistry to pinpoint specific elements that are present; that same light can also indicate temperature of the object, the intensity of its light, if it is moving towards or away from Earth, if something is orbiting the object, etc. Considering the elements that make up stars, planets, comets, and everything else borrows from chemistry. Astronomy uses chemistry to analyze the atomic composition of objects in space.
The astronomy class is also historical. We have learned about different approaches to astronomy over the centuries and the historical context that was relevant to each theory. (Like why for thousands of years people believed Earth was the center of the universe, and what astronomical explanations and problems occurred because of this erroneous theory.) In order to understand and appreciate the current scientific models of the universe, we discussed past scientists, like Copernicus, Brahe, Kepler, Galileo, and Newton. Many of these names have come up in other science and history classes before, marking another overlap between astronomy and other subjects.
While it is not much of a surprise that an astronomy class has physics as well as some chemistry and history in it, there is major connection to another area of academia. I argue that astronomy is an inherently poetic class too.
While I can easily connect astronomy to other science, history, and math classes I’ve taken, I can link it to the Creative Writing: Poetry class I’m taking this semester too. Through the class readings, activities, and discussions I recognize that there is plenty of course content from astronomy that could serve as excellent inspiration for a poem. In fact, I have already set up an Honors contract with my professor, Dr. Elizabeth Mason, where I will synthesize the skills I’m learning in the poetry class with the phenomena I’m learning about in astronomy to create a series of pieces inspired by the stars. In short, I’m exploring the overlap between poetry and science, between creative writing and physics, chemistry, and history.
One day in astronomy, Fischer briefly discussed the formation of the solar system, and how the entire solar system and everything in it likely formed out of the dust of a dead star. Said differently, we are all stardust, starmatter. There is a poem in that. I took that fact and others and drafted three interconnected poems as part of my Honors project.
The first poem draws on what I learned about constellations, and how the constellations as we know them only exist from Earth’s point of view. The stars in any given constellation may look close together in the sky, but in reality there are vast gaps between them in space. In my first poem, I imagine how the patterns of stars might change as a person moves farther and farther from Earth. The stars would shift, and not all of the same stars may be visible anymore from this theoretical new vantage point.
In the next poem, I reflect on our own Sun and I imagine the constellations it may be a part of if one looked at it from a different star system. I consider how some stars are used for navigation (Polaris, the North Star; the Southern triangle, etc.) and how there are many myths and stories corresponding to the 88 constellations. I think about what significance our Sun may—or may not—hold for an imagined intelligent civilization elsewhere in the galaxy looking out at the night sky and seeing our Sun in one of their constellations.
In the third poem, I consider the death of stars and the formation of our solar system. That we are stardust. I reflect on how our Sun will change into a red giant in millions or billions of years and destroy Earth, and how that might draw attention to the theoretical constellations our Sun is part of when seen from across the galaxy.
By taking these specific facts and concepts I’m learning in astronomy, I can draft poems that engage with these concepts in a creative way. Considering this Honors project, I can make one more connection between my classes.
Applying theories about learning, memory, and information processing that I’ve learned in Dr. Wendy Strickler’s Educational Psychology course makes me recognize that I am deepening my understanding and memory of certain astronomy topics through completing my Honors project. By making this connection between the sciences and poetry, I am finding a way to actively engage with astronomy content over spaced intervals. This creative writing is forcing me to elaborate on what I am learning and apply it in a variety of contexts. I practice the retrieval of astronomy information and reinforce my memory and understanding of it as I keep coming back to work on the poems. The principles of educational psychology suggest that, through my Honors project, I am not only practicing skills from my poetry course but also strengthening my memory and understanding of the astronomy topics I write about.
All classes are connected to some sense. There are principles, stories, and histories from one subject that can enrich and inform another. By finding these connections, learning becomes more meaningful and engaging. I look forward to the rest of the semester, as I keep searching for the links between all the classes I am in.