Latin School of Chicago

first person Steven Coberly Science Department Chair OUR PRECIOUS EARTH On the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke up early to look at the planets through my telescope. According to the observation log I keep, I had a wonderful view of Saturn and Jupiter. I could clearly see Cassini's Division in Saturn's ring and some subtle bands of color on the planet itself, and I identified two of its "It has been exciting to see all of us at Latin become increasingly aware of the need to care for our shared environment." moons, Titan and Rhea. Jupiter was equally impressive, with alternating bands of orange, pink and blue clouds. Racing the rapidly lightening sky, I grabbed a quick peek at the Great Nebula in Orion before heading in to get ready for the day. My observation log shows that I got my telescope out to observe the sky again that evening. I studied several double stars relatively nearby, as well as a cluster of stars about 14,000 light years away. The light that entered my telescope – and ultimately my eye – began its journey before the first human civilizations had even begun to form. Between my two observing sessions, of course, the world had changed. Terrorists had shocked the world with an astonishingly brutal attack, and millions had watched as two pillars representing the strength of our country came literally tumbling down. When I ran across this pair of log entries recently, I was surprised. Had I really thought that the evening of 9/11 was a good time – an appropriate time – to have a little fun with my hobby? Shouldn't I have been inside spending time with my family, holding them close, telling them that I loved them, while mourning the deaths of the thousands of innocent victims? But studying our universe, whether through a telescope or in a science classroom, brings me a welcome and calming sense of perspective. I come to see our planet and our activities upon it as pieces of something so much larger. Indeed, the history of cosmology – the study of the universe itself – can be seen as the progressive diminution of the significance of the Earth. Contrary to the ancient view that the Earth was the center of the universe and that everything revolved around us, we now know that the Earth is just one of several planets orbiting a quite ordinary star in the suburbs of a typical galaxy, itself an average example of perhaps billions of galaxies. On the other hand, as far as we know, the Earth is the only place in the entire universe where life exists. And not just "life," but living creatures that have the spine-tinglingly wonderful capacity to appreciate and understand the very universe they inhabit. To me, that makes the Earth unspeakably precious. There is a famous photo taken by the astronauts of Apollo 8 of the Earth rising over the surface of the moon. Juxtaposed above a grey, sterile, dead moonscape floats a gibbous blue-green-white, vibrant, life-filled, vulnerable, lonely Earth. I dare say contemplating that photo does more to instill a desire to protect our tiny, fragile home than does listening to a dozen lectures on global warming. Since that photo was taken, society at large has taken huge strides toward appreciating the fragility of our environment and how humans have endangered it. Closer to home, it has been exciting to see all of us at Latin become increasingly aware of the need to care for our shared environment. The school recently installed solar panels on the roof of the upper school, which we hope will provide about five percent of the school's energy needs – a small yet significant step toward reducing our carbon footprint. Students, faculty and trustees have enjoyed the green roof atop the middle school, and plans are under way to create a similar garden on the roof of the upper school. And Latin's environmental club is one of the school's largest and most active clubs, leading the charge in recycling, promoting energy conservation and educating others in the Latin community about humanity's effect on the planet. And that is part of why I teach. I want my students not only to understand the laws of nature, but to understand that those laws are inviolable, that we are subject to them, that we are but a piece of a larger cosmos. Although we can create the technology to build soaring monuments, as well as the technology to destroy them in an instant, we also have within us the capacity to save ourselves and our fragile island home. • Latin School of Chicago 11

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