by Harry Marku
again. “Don't worry. Ryan has a knack for lab-work that even the A-level students lack.”
Could it be the game? Eva suddenly wondered though she was too annoyed to ask.
“The rest will come in due time.” Mr. Farrell finished.
With his smidgen of a compliment, Eva regained her composure. “What do you mean by—” she determined to keep the subject positive, “—a knack?”
Mr. Farrell hesitated and Eva braced herself again.
“Lab-work is as much an Art as it is a Science,” Mr. Farrell answered.
Eva relaxed. There would not be another rant.
“It's not just following a recipe,” Mr. Farrell pontificated. “There's sample prep, methodology, and execution. Choices have to be made, when and how to mix or rinse, how much heat to apply and how evenly, or when to quench a reaction. Ryan suddenly seems to just 'get it.' His results are excellent and his recent lab reports are superior. Frankly—“ Farrell's eyes twinkled ”—I think the A students are a bit jealous.”
Eva beamed with pride.
“Can you shed some light on his recent change of attitude?” Mr. Farrell queried rhetorically. “I'd like to bottle it and sell it to other parents.” He grimaced at the irony.
“Perhaps he's considering his future?” Eva tendered.
“Yes,” Mr. Farrell agreed, “but that awakening usually happens to students in their senior year. Ryan's only halfway through junior—”he mumbled something unintelligibly “—but yes, perhaps he's realized that he needs to prepare for his future.”
Eva bristled. She didn't need the teacher to lecture her or judge her on her marital status. “He's a smart young man.”
“I've always thought so.” Farrell's face flushed red. “That's why I'm so pleased to see him finally reaching out toward his potential. Those who start early usually have the most success.”
That was a first, thought Eva. Mr. Farrell wasn't judging her. He really did want the best for her son. “Thanks.” She smiled widely. “He speaks highly of you.”
Mr. Farrell's face showed nothing. It was a vacuous compliment that he'd heard countless times before. He ignored it as easily as he tolerated the unwarranted criticism from entitled parents who demanded special consideration for their children.
“Encourage him,” Farrell suggested, “at his age teens crave positive reinforcement.” Farrell chuckled. “Well, they need it at all ages but at this time in particular, as they have to think about braving the world on their own, they need to know that they're succeeding and that they're capable of succeeding.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But don't make it obvious,” Farrell warned, “that might have the opposite effect.”
“How do I encourage him without being obvious?” Eva asked. “I'm his mother.”
“You know your son better than I do,” Mr. Farrell answered. “Why don't you talk to the career counselor? She is a child psychologist.”
“Are you say—“ Eva's hackles started rising; she didn't want to hear that her son needed professional help, she needed answers.
“I'm saying I'm not,” Mr. Farrell said reasonably.
“—oh!” Eva withdrew, but then she waved her hand in frustration.
“I've tried several times to see her,” she complained, “but she's always booked. I don't have much free time, I work swing shift and I can't afford to take time off after school. I need my job.”
“It's all about who you know,” Mr. Farrell said with a smile. “Let me know exactly when you can make an appointment and I'll make sure you get one. I don't want to see Ryan lose his momentum.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you very much.”
“Not at all.”
The interview was over but Eva was slow to leave. She wanted Farrell's opinion of the game Ryan was playing.
“Is there a question?” Mr. Farrell read her intent.
She hovered with indecision; neither did she want Farrell involved in their affairs.
“Uh...” she reasoned that this matter was somehow related to school. She needed to know more.
Farrell waited.
She committed, “Have you heard of the game he's been playing?”
Group Think
“Thanks for your time,” Eva thanked the School Counselor.
“Not at all, you're welcome to come in at any time,” the Counselor replied with a smile.
“I will.” Eva rifled through her purse for her car keys. As usual, they had settled to the bottom of the bag. She struggled to retrieve them from beneath her personal effects without revealing the intimate details of her life. They were stubbornly hidden.
The Counselor stood and waited, still smiling.
Eva turned to leave. The keys would have to wait.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said the Counselor.
Eva's anxiety surged. Mr. Farrell was at the door.
“Oh good, you're still here,” Farrell said to Eva. “I'm glad I caught you before you left. I've followed up on your question about that on-line game Ryan plays.”
“You're just in time,” the Counselor chimed in. Her face beamed in revelation. She had a sweet spot for Ryan's Chemistry teacher.
Farrell gave Eva an all-knowing 'told you it was who you know' look. He might have winked but he didn't wish to kindle his sweetheart's jealousies.
“I talked to a Professor Jankowiak at the University,” Farrell began, “and it was most illuminating.”
“Yes?” Eva was immediately interested.
“First, let me say that I think you have nothing to worry about,” Mr. Farrell said soothingly but when he noticed Eva's expression turn dubious, he followed quickly, “but, of course, that's your decision to make.”
Eva nodded. It was her decision to make.
“It seems that Jankowiak is pursuing the study of Group Think,“ Farrell explained. “He has the notion that there is a remarkable intelligence in collective thought and behavior.”
Group Think, what's that? Eva wanted to interrupt.
“He thinks it can be harnessed in a predictive way.”
Eva's eyes started to glaze.
“Jankowiak constructs games that challenge the players to find solutions to problems”—Farrell looked at Eva with quizzical eyes—“in chemistry and biology.”
“What?” Eva was puzzled.
Mr. Farrell beamed. “Perhaps that explains Ryan's sudden interest in Chemistry.”
“Ryan's only in high school,” Eva blustered. “How can he contribute at a college level when he's barely pas—?”
“I asked that of the professor,” Farrell cut her off. “He answered with a story.”
Eva started to argue again but stopped when Mr. Farrell put up his hand.
“Apparently, at the London Fair in the late 19th Century a radical experiment was performed. Fair-goers were asked to guess the weight of a ox.”
“An ox?” Eva had to say something.
“Yes, an ox. Anyone who wanted to participate, learned or not, was encouraged to submit an entry and, this is the radical part—everybody's entry was tallied.”
“So...”
“So?” Farrell eye's begged her to let him speak. “Entries came from the educated class, as you may well suppose, but many were from farmers, housewives, sailors, and servants. As you would imagine, nearly all were wrong, and some were way off...” Farrell suddenly stopped to puzzle over a thought. “I don't know if anyone got it exactly right. I should have asked him that.”
“Mr. Farrell,” the Counselor said sweetly. “Eva has to get ready for work sometime.”
Farrell smiled at being put back on course. “Anyway, at the end of the Fair the guesses were averaged. Most surprisingly, the collective crowd had got it right, and this is Jankowiak's fundamental theorem, that no matter how off-base some of the guesses were the collective intelligence was spot-on.”
“I'm not following,” Eva admitted.
“It established an unique idea—that as a populati
on we perceive correctly.”
“Is that important?”
“Yes. The experiment demonstrated that there is an intelligence in the masses. And that group think may be equivalent in accuracy to the conclusion of an expert individual or class.”
“What does it mean?”
“In this case,” Farrell replied, “it helped pave the way to granting the vote to a greater group of people.”
“That's just politics,” Eva brushed off the implication. “Of course people have a vested interest in what affects them.” She wanted to know more about the game developer. “You say Jankowiak is a scientist?”
“Yes. He creates games that solve molecular conundrums. He presents them as animated puzzles or 3D flight simulations or conquests of territory with all the whiz-bang of a video game.” Farrell's voice became dramatic. “Build. Destroy. Conquer!”
The Counselor rolled her eyes at Eva.
“It's very appealing”—Farrell grinned and his voice returned to normal—“Jankowiak's betting that the collective creativity of his players will lead to breakthroughs in complex problems too challenging for computational strategies or traditional lab work.” He smiled encouragingly at Eva, who was still having difficulty processing the idea.
“It's like having a thousand, uniquely programmed supercomputers analyzing a problem,” Farrell rephrased, “combined with the randomness of a card game at a casino. At every stage there are unlimited starts and trajectories. If you can follow them all, somebody eventually gets it right.”
Eva's puzzlement wasn't shrinking.
“Maybe it's even better,” Mr. Farrell summarized. “Jankowiak hopes so. He says that computers are decades away from being powerful enough to predict molecular properties based on structure alone.”
“And Ryan's a part of
