But… What *Is* Diffy Q?

It’s a random day in Lincoln, Nebraska. I’m sitting at a desk near the front of my Differential Equations math class. I’m bored by the subject matter and my mind drifts somewhere else. And the conversations drift into noises. And the words drift into sounds.

Funny sounds. Like adults make in Charlie Brown movies.

Last I remember the students were playing a game of ping pong with the teacher. Back and forth. Back and forth. Serve a question. Volley it back. Raise your hand. Do some calculations. Say some numbers. Repeat, repeat.

The students are on fire today, so the volleys are long. So many hands up. So many correct answers. They must’ve mastered the material. And the game is beautiful to watch. Back and forth. Forth and back. Third and fourth. Let’s all face north.

And the room has drifted to the back. The back of my consciousness. Yet I still hear sounds.

Funny sounds. Bum bum. Mugga wugga wugga bum. Bum bum. Mugga wugga bum bum.

Like Richard Feyman, surely I’m joking when I tell you I’m simultaneously walking a dinosaur and idly paying attention to class. Because

Mugga wugga wuh?

(Pause)

Mugga wugga wuh?

(Longer pause)

Mugga wugga wuh?

The classroom cadence is broken. The teacher has served three straight aces.

“What is differential equations?” she asks as the dinosaur drifts back into my subconscious and the classroom commands my full attention.

“Equations with derivatives of functions,” I mumble quietly to myself. “We solve for rate-of-change functions rather than scalar variables.” (Or something like that. I won’t remember myself years later when I retell this story.)

But I let the fourth consecutive ace whiz by us. I’m more fascinated by the observation that no students in this room seem to know what we’re doing here, than I am motivated to win the ping pong game.

Is it because they’re shy?

Don’t think so. They were all so eagerly raising their hands to every other question before this one. They seem full of confidence following all those winning service returns.

Maybe they really don’t know, I conclude. With a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and curiosity.

Hmm, interesting.

Many years later, I wonder…

Are those of us holding prestigious degrees really experts in our fields of study? With a sound understanding of theory and creative ability to apply our knowledge in practice?

Or are we more like our new AI friends? Interesting companions who are lighting quick with party tricks. We can solve routine problems with ease. But it’s debatable if we’re conscious. And we’re only vaguely aware of what we’re actually doing.