<p>I think AMT’s logic is flawed. By his reasoning, we should all become mathematicians, historians, scientists, grammarians, and polyglots. And perhaps professional four-square players. (Which raises another valid question: Why is there not a greater call for professional four-square? I think it’d be more fun to watch than endless poker tournaments…)</p>
<p>I think it’s a little silly to determine that since people haven’t had direct curricular exposure to a field, that they must not be motivated by the idea of being in the field itself. By this token, we would have no architects, no orchestral conductors or composers, no surgeons, no pilots, no veterinarians, no pharmacists, no real estate agents, no archaeologists… </p>
<p>My brother’s an electrical engineer, and he was born to be an electrical engineer. He learned to read when he was two and would sit for hours with users’ manuals, flipping through the pages. His favorite book was the NASA Astronaut’s Manual. He took things apart and looked at the chip boards inside. He figured out computers, and my dad taught him a little bit of Basic (anyone remember gorillas throwing exploding bananas?). He got in trouble in preschool for having developed a rudimentary game called “Guess My Number” (it would pick a random number and you’d guess it, with it telling you whether you should guess higher or lower until you guessed the right one), printing it up on diskettes, and selling it to his classmates for a dollar apiece. His career goal as a kid was to be an inventor. He’s now an electrical engineering PhD candidate at Rice, applying for NSF grants, doing highly-paid consulting on the side, making computer networking systems more efficient as a chip architect.</p>
<p>I was in fourth grade when our house was burglarized, and we decided to move. I was dragged through countless houses, and none of them seemed to be quite right. I noticed the floor plans, and I started drawing floor plans of my own… Mine seemed much better than theirs. I’d draw house after house, I’d draw houses for me, and houses for my friends. I’d sit out in front of our new house and draw elevation views of the front of the house. One of my friends gave me a book called “The Art of Construction” by Mario Salvadori for my birthday one year, and I started to read about it. I absolutely loved it. At the time, since I was lousy at mental arithmetic, I thought I was terrible at math, so I didn’t think I wanted to be an engineer, but I knew I wanted to be an architect. In history class, when we were supposed to do a report on something historical and we could choose what we wanted to do a report on, I’d immediately choose the architecture of the period. I learned about castles, colonial architecture, Native American longhouses, and eventually got into the construction of how everything was put together. Meanwhile, I’d become entranced with 8th grade physical science, and had a really amazing algebra teacher who taught me that there was more to math than just long division, and to my surprise, discovered that I had a talent for math and science. Someone erroneously informed me that the only avenues into architecture were through interior design (which, being the budding feminist that I was, I considered to be a bit candy-assed) and structural engineering, and so I decided I was going to be a structural engineer. In eighth grade. With no clubs, no classes, no nothing to encourage me to do so.</p>
<p>I’m sure others have similar stories. Kids keep their eyes open. They don’t have blinders on. They’re curious about the world, and they don’t blunder through school as tunnel-visioned as you might think. They just have to have someone to inspire them.</p>