Chapter 10

Cindy’s turn:

We had our NASA trip. Let me tell you, and I’m not bragging, mind you, but it went very well.

Since the thrust (on a NASA event. Subtle joke, okay?) of the event was to invite more young women into the STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics) careers, the speakers were all successful middle-aged and older women who’d made some levels of success.

And me.

Sure, they’d reviewed my notes, so my prepared speech was right down the party line, so to speak.

If I may be so bold, I do quite well at speaking in public. I’ve done classrooms and boardrooms and laboratories and conference rooms and when I stood behind the podium in the big auditorium at NASA in Clear Lake, Texas, I looked out at a couple of hundred females – okay, GIRLS, most of them my age.

“Good morning, friends,” I started. “I’m Doctor Cindy Richards. I have a PhD in Physics and a Masters in Electrical Engineering and Bachelors in Mathematics from Auburn University. But that’s me. Let’s talk about YOU...” and off I went.

Ends up with a question and answer session. I called on an oriental girl in the first row. An assistant brought her a wireless mike.

“Doctor Richards...” she started.

“Please. Cindy, if you will...”

She looked up at me, smiled a little. “Okay. Cindy. The program says you got your doctorate at seventeen. You have to attribute some of that to natural ability, don’t you?”

“Your name, please?” I asked.

“Nguyen. Karen Nguyen.”

“Okay, Karen,” I said. “That’s a good point. A very good point. Now, let us assume a natural ability, like a pretty stout IQ. I’m sure that most of you in this room have that, correct?”

There was a murmur in the audience. Karen nodded.

“So we’ve got one element of a career in STEM. Now, ask yourselves. You know a lot of people. How many of them have the innate intelligence for this? They’re racking up grades in high school, taking the advanced placement classes. Hands? You all know these kinds of people, right?”

General show of hands.

“Now, let’s step back just a little bit. How many people who might have the innate intelligence but for some reason, lack the drive? That’s right now, in high school. I’ve seen some of those. Anybody else?” I raised my hand. There was a good showing in the audience as well.

“Drive’s a big part of it, people. You have to WANT to. When I started on my own path, all I wanted was to make good enough grades so that the school didn’t call Mom and start trouble. What grades do you need for that?” I asked. “Anybody? Shout it.”

Got a chorus of “Cs”.

“So something has to motivate you to take your abilities and run with them. Believe me, I know some bright people who are now stacking groceries at the supermarket. It’s a waste of talent, but that’s where they are. But some of THOSE...” and I was thinking of Mom when I said it, “ ... can take a turn later in life and take the bit in their teeth and run with it.”

“Who pushed you?” Karen followed up.

Okay, here’s where we depart from the ‘I am Woman, hear me roar’ thrust of the meeting. “My husband. I met an engineer who was willing to tutor me to get me restarted on a new school year’s worth of Cs. He saw something that told him that I was better than that. Pushed me. I married ‘im. He’s seen me through college and into business. Also seen me through becoming a licensed pilot.”

“Your husband?” came an unspecified voice.

I smiled. “Don’t discount the incentive of friends and family and in so many cases, good, motivated teachers. I had those, too. But a lot of it boils down to YOU wanting to do it.” I looked to Karen, still standing there, a pretty girl, actually, because I saw a brain packaged in a neat cascade of shiny black hair, almond eyes, pretty face. “Good enough?”

“Thank you, Cindy.”

“Thank you, Karen. And good luck. Another question?”

A blonde girl three rows back looked promising. I called on her.

“Cindy,” she started. Okay, points for paying attention. “Although I really like that ‘Doctor Cindy’ thing.” She smiled. “ I’m Andrea Garrett from right here in Clear Lake. So natural ability is part of it. What about good educational facilities?”

“Good question,” I said. “And in too many cases, some of you WON’T have that. Uh, how many of you have a high expectation for a rural Alabama middle school?”

I heard a few obvious snickers. “Yeah, place’s full a’rednecks ‘n farmers ‘n’ stuff, right?” I paused. Looked over them. “That was me. Here’re the keys. First, YOU don’t be your teacher’s problem. Most of the time she’s got too many others – kids without the ability, kids without the desire, kids who shouldn’t be in school at all. Your teacher should see YOU walk into her class and say to herself that at least ONE student won’t be a problem. Second, connect with your teachers. Okay, you’re smart girls, right?”

I saw heads nod, at least a few. “Be smart enough to know which teachers are engaged in teaching, not going through the motions. Talk with those teachers. Show them, tell them what you want and ask how they can help you along. Third, engage your school staff. Most schools have counselors. Those counselors are often up to their ears with troubled students, special needs students.”

I giggle. “That’s YOU! You’re special. You have needs. You’re ready to soar and that school is your runway. Talk with your counselor so you’re on HIS radar...”

I think I heard somebody say ‘sexist’. “Okay, about that ‘sexist’ comment. MY counselor WAS a guy, Mister Jim Hardesty. Had he not helped, I’d be a high school graduate. He got me tied into Auburn.” I paused. “And University of Alabama. And a few others. Seriously, find something else to be offended over. Don’t waste your energy on being offended. Be offensive in the best possible way. BE GOOD, superlative even. But back to my point, hang with the people who push you, pull you, walk and run with you towards your goal. Harbor your resources.” I giggled. “I would’ve said ‘husband your resources’ but that might’ve gotten me another one of those ‘sexist’ comments.”

General tittering. I think I saw one girl get elbowed in the vicinity of where the comment came from.

“But that’s a key, too. An hour studying, then a weekend trying out for Girls Gone Wild at the beach is not particularly profitable for your future. There are only so many hours in a day. Use ‘em wisely.”

“But if you don’t have those things?” Andrea followed.

“You’re still you. You have a more difficult path, but you’re still going to be tested, your ACT and SAT, and if your scores warrant, colleges will come looking for YOU. But don’t stop. If YOUR teacher isn’t the best to help you with a subject, maybe another is. Don’t discount extra-curricular activities – science club, math club, that sort of activity. If they don’t have those things in your school, start them yourself, formally or informally. I’m not discounting pom-pom skills as not being useful to A career path, but it’s not YOUR career path.”

“What about a social life?” somebody shouted.

“I was going to touch on that if somebody asked.”

“We askin’,” came a response.

“You may not like what I say, but here it is. You’re different. Notice I didn’t say ‘better’, I said ‘different’. I hope you realize that friends and family might not understand or encourage you in your pursuit of education. Getting past that requires strength on your part and support from those who DO want you to succeed.”

A few more questions and, “I was asked to take the time to introduce one of my dearest friends, more like yet another sister. Please meet Terri Addison, a Google Concept Consultant and her friend Bot-bot. Terri?”

Terri isn’t bashful. Again, here’s a precocious young lady who’s been give no limits on her learning. She walked out, Bot-bot trailing behind her in his ‘squat’ mode, because she’s determined (with the help of some marketing students doing a survey –her idea) that squat mode tugs heartstrings, evoking images of Disney’s Wall-E and Number 5 from Short Circuit.

“Terri,” I prompted, “Tell us what you’ve got.”

“Hi,” Terri said. “This is Bot-bot. He’s an autonomous personality robot. This version is a personal assistant. Bot-bot, go get my backpack.”

Bot-bot said “Oooo-kayyy” in his robotic metallic voice, then tootled off, sounding happy, disappeared behind the curtains, came back with Terri’s colorful Cordura back pack. He rolled on his tracks to a position in front of her, sat the backpack down, tilted his head up.

“Bot-bot, pick it up and follow me.”

Two hundred pairs of eyes watched Bot-bot pick up the backpack and follow Terri across the stage. She went to the steps leading down into the audience. When Bot-bot got to the stairs, he raised up a bit, went into quadruped mode and stepped down the stairs.

Terri’s voice, transmitted by her wireless headset, continued the explanation. “Bot-bot is an example of distributed pseudo-ganglial networking. Who knows what basal ganglia are? Hands?”

I’m watching Terri in instructor mode now. Several hands were raised. She picked on a girl close to her.

“A group of nerves in the brain that handle certain functions, right?”

“That’s right,” Terri said. “So in our pseudo-ganglial design, we distribute certain functions like mobility, voice recognition, facial recognition, grasper function, tie them all to central processing. My sisters and I took this approach when we moved Bot-bot from his original function as something to keep squirrels out of our bird feeder and made him into this platform. This one is very much a part of Google’s research into robot-human interactions. We also work with the Department of Defense. As you might imagine, the interactions of THEIR robots might be a little more energetic.”

She was walking around the audience, Bot-bot following. She stopped. “Hi,” she addressed a girl. “What’s your name?”