Clocks are kind of strange if you think about it. Unlike other forms of measurement, such as heat gauges or speedometers, clocks are the only reason the thing they measure exists at all. Think about it. When you look at a thermometer, it tells you a certain heat reading. That heat exists. It is tangible, and whether or not that little tube of glass says 75 degrees, it will continue to exist. However, when held to the same standard, clocks can’t really say the same.
Sure they measure this thing we call time, but what is that really? The only thing that makes a clock accurate is other clocks, and other clocks before them. That trail can be traced the whole way back to the first timepiece ever invented, but then it stops. If we’re being honest, measuring time is just carrying on the legacy of the first dude that ever said “I declare this to be the first 10:15 pm ever! When I’m done with 60 of these things I call seconds, it will be 10:16! This is life now!” And yet, however many centuries later, we let it influence us more than nearly anything else.
We count every second of every minute of every hour, adhering zealously to our schedules. Sometimes time holds us back, sometimes it pushes us too far. It has the same level of influence on the most powerful person in the world as it does to the most insignificant. We bend over backwards in order to stay within the boundaries of time. Without it, I think life would enter a state of chaos. All of that, for something that doesn’t technically exist.
This little thought experiment of mine would never have really mattered to me before last year. Back then, it was easy to just live life. Go to school, take some tests here and there, do your homework in fifteen minutes when you get home, and take the rest of that time you have just lying there to go do something. Or don’t! Nobody was going to judge you.
And then sophomore year happened. Depending on who you ask, it was the first year that really sideswept a lot of me and my classmates. Classes got harder. Much harder if we’re being honest. Suddenly razor-precise personal management became essential to survive.
One of my first experiences in this newfound jungle of tomfoolery was also one I would remember the most. On my second day of school, I walked into my first block of AP US History. I’d heard rumors of the great Mr. Ed Mazur, but I honestly had no idea what to expect. Turns out, there was no way I could’ve expected who walked through that door once the bell rang.
Most of you ended up meeting him at some point, so I won’t describe too much (which is good because I’m not totally sure what words would do that guy justice) but I will say this. He perched himself up on his signature front desk, put his face in his hand to the point where half of his head was obstructed, and told us he was going to write a number on the chalkboard that would pretty much decide our whole year.
Not really waiting for much response, he did as he’d promised and scrawled out a loopy “168.” Nobody understood it right off the bat. So, he turned to the class and said “this is how many hours are in a week. And, as you take this course, that number is gonna seem smaller and smaller.”
In all fairness, the man knew how to intimidate some unsuspecting sophomores. Two kids dropped out of the class the next day, and the rest of us were fairly nervous. And while the class wasn’t the total mind-killer we’d been promised, that quote stuck with me. Why? Because it was the truest thing I’d hear within the four cream-colored walls of that classroom. And yes, that is including the 300 years of historical fact we covered throughout the year.
Suddenly, there really wasn’t as much time in a week as I’d thought. I’d always figured if I stay up late enough, I can get everything done that needs to be done. Just make some time, push a little bit harder, and it’ll be all handled. Pretty quickly, I found out that wasn’t the case.
Ever since that day, I’ve been bartering with that number. With clocks. With that thing we call time. It has meant its fair share of life lessons, hardships, and eventual triumphs. It’s made me rethink my day-to-day process. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes it makes me want to relieve myself of my head with an old butterknife. But no matter what, that week doesn’t get any longer.
So if anything was to be gleaned from the man in the APUSH room, it’s the fact that 168 hours is a very dangerous, very unassuming, very real, number. And no matter how much we try and make it longer or shorter, it isn’t gonna relent now.
Cheers, Mr. Mazur.
Sure they measure this thing we call time, but what is that really? The only thing that makes a clock accurate is other clocks, and other clocks before them. That trail can be traced the whole way back to the first timepiece ever invented, but then it stops. If we’re being honest, measuring time is just carrying on the legacy of the first dude that ever said “I declare this to be the first 10:15 pm ever! When I’m done with 60 of these things I call seconds, it will be 10:16! This is life now!” And yet, however many centuries later, we let it influence us more than nearly anything else.
We count every second of every minute of every hour, adhering zealously to our schedules. Sometimes time holds us back, sometimes it pushes us too far. It has the same level of influence on the most powerful person in the world as it does to the most insignificant. We bend over backwards in order to stay within the boundaries of time. Without it, I think life would enter a state of chaos. All of that, for something that doesn’t technically exist.This little thought experiment of mine would never have really mattered to me before last year. Back then, it was easy to just live life. Go to school, take some tests here and there, do your homework in fifteen minutes when you get home, and take the rest of that time you have just lying there to go do something. Or don’t! Nobody was going to judge you.
And then sophomore year happened. Depending on who you ask, it was the first year that really sideswept a lot of me and my classmates. Classes got harder. Much harder if we’re being honest. Suddenly razor-precise personal management became essential to survive.
One of my first experiences in this newfound jungle of tomfoolery was also one I would remember the most. On my second day of school, I walked into my first block of AP US History. I’d heard rumors of the great Mr. Ed Mazur, but I honestly had no idea what to expect. Turns out, there was no way I could’ve expected who walked through that door once the bell rang.
Most of you ended up meeting him at some point, so I won’t describe too much (which is good because I’m not totally sure what words would do that guy justice) but I will say this. He perched himself up on his signature front desk, put his face in his hand to the point where half of his head was obstructed, and told us he was going to write a number on the chalkboard that would pretty much decide our whole year.
Not really waiting for much response, he did as he’d promised and scrawled out a loopy “168.” Nobody understood it right off the bat. So, he turned to the class and said “this is how many hours are in a week. And, as you take this course, that number is gonna seem smaller and smaller.”
In all fairness, the man knew how to intimidate some unsuspecting sophomores. Two kids dropped out of the class the next day, and the rest of us were fairly nervous. And while the class wasn’t the total mind-killer we’d been promised, that quote stuck with me. Why? Because it was the truest thing I’d hear within the four cream-colored walls of that classroom. And yes, that is including the 300 years of historical fact we covered throughout the year.
Suddenly, there really wasn’t as much time in a week as I’d thought. I’d always figured if I stay up late enough, I can get everything done that needs to be done. Just make some time, push a little bit harder, and it’ll be all handled. Pretty quickly, I found out that wasn’t the case.
Ever since that day, I’ve been bartering with that number. With clocks. With that thing we call time. It has meant its fair share of life lessons, hardships, and eventual triumphs. It’s made me rethink my day-to-day process. Sometimes it’s great, sometimes it makes me want to relieve myself of my head with an old butterknife. But no matter what, that week doesn’t get any longer.
So if anything was to be gleaned from the man in the APUSH room, it’s the fact that 168 hours is a very dangerous, very unassuming, very real, number. And no matter how much we try and make it longer or shorter, it isn’t gonna relent now.
Cheers, Mr. Mazur.
I was just talking about this the other day! I can't believe Mazur actually tried to make everyone drop the class, "especially if you do things after school." I loved APUSH, even the endless amount of time I spent staring at that 600 page book. It's crazy to think that we are all now on the other side. This time last year, we were well into the Great Depression with the overwhelming doom of the AP Exam starting to approach. But we made it! We all passed the class, memorizing 70ish paragraphs a week, and now it's just a fun memory. We spent a lot of 168 hours increments in that class, and it really did make us all mature with our level of school work. Time was so precious, especially those 30 minutes for term quizzes, and I miss that rush. I wish Mazur would come back, if only for one day, just so we could thank him for helping us grow up a little bit.
ReplyDeleteThat takes me back. For me, sophomore year was definitely the year when high school got real. I decided to join marching band on a whim that year, which took a good 24 or so hours out of my 168 hour week. Combine that with the newfound demands of endless quizlet studying for Mazur's term quizzes and you get one stressed out sophomore. You're absolutely right. Time won't stop for nobody.
ReplyDeleteI didn't fully appreciate his statement about 168 hours in a week until this year. Last year, the only times I lost significant amounts of sleep were Saturday band competitions. This year, I can count on my hands the number of weekdays I have gotten more than 8 hours of sleep. Extracurricular activities and school could be compared to a divorced couple fighting over time with the kids. If time is such an intangible thing, why can't we insert more time into the day.
ReplyDeleteI loved when Mazur gave us that speech about how finite time is and how we need to manage it properly. It definitely was a bit intimidating to hear at first, but it needs to be heard at some point. After that class, I truly learned the importance of balancing your load. There is only a finite amount of time that we have, and we need to be able to efficiently manage all of our tasks while making time for ourselves. If we fail to do so, time doesn't care, it just keeps ticking on.
ReplyDeleteI remember sitting in class and Mr. Mazur giving this speech. I was awestruck and scared. It really put things in perspective for me, almost not in the best way. Since then, I have not devoted as much time to my studies because I value other things in life more.
ReplyDelete