Yesterday was the 53rd anniversary of the launching of Sputnik. Satellite technology is old hat nowadays what with GPS and cell phones that give crystal clear connections to Zambia available at our local Wal-Mart, but in 1957, the concept of a Soviet "artificial moon" circling the globe scared the pants off the American public. Surely, The Evil Empire would soon have orbiting Death Rays that would seek out and fry us as we innocently sat in our Chevy Impalas at the drive-in watching the latest Elvis Presley movie.
The only answer was to inspire a new generation of American scientists and engineers to win the Space Race. Our survival as a nation depended on it.
On October 4, 1957, I was a fifth grader in the Scranton public schools. I had never had a science course and algebra was four years away. Our history books still mentioned "The World War" and only showed presidents through Hoover. Thanks to Sputnik, that changed in a hurry.
Before the year was out, we had brand, spanking new science texts and a box of Pennsylvania minerals to destroy with acid all in the name of science. Our math became "accelerated" and that newfangled Set Theory and Wenn Diagrams replaced going over the "times tables" for the third year in a row. We even got new History books that covered that WW II thing that our parents had told us so much about.
More to the point, we were informed that it was our patriotic duty to be good in math and science. "Some Russian kid is spending his Saturday night deriving geometric proofs while you are watching Gunsmoke. Shame on you, slacker!"
So I passed up my lifelong dream of a career chasing down the bad guys in Dodge City and became an engineer. It's all for the best. I lack the hindquarter cushioning to ride a horse for more than 30 seconds without pain. Thanks, Sputnik.
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