Ideas

After they invented the atom bomb and what not, a number of the scientists from the Manhattan Project toddled off to the Institute for Advanced Studies in Princeton where they would entertain one another by sharing their research into previously unknown thoughts, theories, and discoveries. This process—sometimes termed a “Ph.D. defense”—involved one of the smartest guys on the planet standing in front of a chalk board explaining to a number of the other smartest guys in the world what he has been working on 12 hours a day for the past 18 months. I would mention my in-depth understanding of some of these topics, but I don’t want to show off.

Just kidding. I don’t have the first idea what any of these dissertations were about. I have an undergraduate degree in mathematics, not a Ph.D.—in the sense that I have run a marathon in four hours, not two. But I do want to point out that if I had been around in New Jersey in the late 40s with a more significant math degree, I would still not have been invited to stand up in front of Robert Oppenheimer, Freeman Dyson, Abraham Pais, and, oh yes, Albert Einstein, delivering a two-and-a-half hour lecture on something that no one had ever thought of before.

It is said however that John Von Neumann would listen to a mathematician, astrophysicist, particle physicist or whomever explaining something beyond impossible for anyone to understand, again something that had taken years of research to uncover and a two-and-a-half-hour lecture to introduce, and then go to the board and say words to the effect of, “what a fascinating result. But why didn’t you just do it like this?” and write out a 14-line proof.

Think about the smartest person you know, then consider what it would be like for someone else to be as far above that person as that person is above you. John Von Neumann was that someone else. Von Neumann never said, “oh, you have a Nobel Prize, how nice for you” but he probably could have.

Long time readers will hardly be surprised to know there is an analogy coming regarding parenting.

Your daughter comes home concerned about the middle school mean girls. On Wednesdays they wear pink. Or their hair is cut a certain way. Or their hair is a certain color. Or they have tattoos. Or they do Jell-O shots in the cafeteria before lunch. Or their behavior is so mind-numbingly equal parts mean, stupid, and exclusionary that all the other girls want to be them. You could spend your time, you could spend your treasure, you could spend your whole life helping your daughter fit in with those girls. You could pay to get her hair done. You could take her to the tattoo parlor. You could show her how to make Jello shots. There’s no end to what you could do to help her fit in, be part of the Mean Girl Group, help her change her hair, her clothes, her look, her philosophy, her reason for living.

Or you could help her from the time she was little not to give a shit what anybody else thinks. Which would take about five minutes. And would be my sincere advice.

You can’t fool a man who’s not paying attention. You can’t spend a year’s salary on a sorority consultant, new clothes, and fees if your daughter is more concerned with her undergraduate calculus course than she is with pledging Tappa Kegga Brew. You can’t lose at a game if you don’t play.

“Hold your friends close, hold your enemies closer” suggests Michael Corleone based on the writing of ancient military strategist Sun Tsu. I submit, “hold your kids close. Or somebody else will” based on my experience working with families these past 40 years. We can’t change the Mean Girls. But we can help our daughters not to care, not to want to be somebody other than the perfect gifts that were entrusted to us.

And who knows? Maybe focusing on academics rather than hair style, popularity, and Jello shots will give your daughter more time to learn mathematics, particle physics, and astrophysics. The world is ready for the next John Von Neumann.