Ask any physics major at Pomona College about their first lab with professor Elijah Quetin, and you’ll see their face light up with excitement. I first encountered his approach to physics during PHYS 070 my freshman year, when Quetin challenged us to measure the speed of sound without relying on modern measuring devices.
The constraint sparked remarkable creativity. My group ended up timing echoes using the distance between campus buildings, with one person clapping while I paced out the distance in “Gabe feet” (much to my amusement).
Another group, perhaps showing more sophistication, cleverly used the steady drip-drip-drip of a leaky water fountain as their metronome, timing how long it took for a shout to travel down the hallway. Some might call our methods crude, but there was a certain brilliance in their simplicity. After all, this kind of resourceful thinking of making do with whatever tools were at hand, was exactly how the early pioneers of science worked.
But what transformed Quetin’s challenge from a mere physics exercise into a profound learning experience was his next surprise. He showed us Newton’s original “Principia” text, where the famous physicist had undertaken the same challenge as us, with similarly limited tools.
As we gathered around the historical text, comparing Newton’s methods to our own attempts, I understood what Quetin had been teaching us about the true nature of scientific thinking.
“The knowing that truly matters doesn’t reside in encyclopedias, hard drives, universities, corporations or textbooks. It lives in human souls, collectively,” he would later explain.
His exercise wasn’t just about measuring sound, it was about experiencing firsthand how scientific discovery actually unfolds: through creativity, constraints and human ingenuity.
Such moments exemplify Quetin’s unique approach to physics education. In his office lined with both scientific and philosophical texts, he often contemplates why his students are studying science.
“About half of all science students get into their subjects for very philosophical or even spiritual reasons,” he said. “Then the curriculum abandons them to busy work without any time to ponder what it is they’re doing and why.”
Quetin’s observation resonates with my journey to majoring in physics. I remember first being captivated by physics not because of equations, but profound questions: What makes the universe tick? How do we exist within this vast, mysterious system? Yet my early coursework often felt like solving intricate puzzles with no room to marvel at the larger picture.
“I remember first being captivated by physics not because of equations, but profound questions: What makes the universe tick? How do we exist within this vast, mysterious system?”
Take the concept of temperature, for instance. We think of temperature as a simple measurement, but it’s actually a profound abstraction. “Temperature” is a human invention — a way of making sense of countless tiny particles moving and bumping into each other. A thermometer doesn’t actually measure heat; it measures how those molecular movements affect a column of mercury or a digital sensor. It’s an approximation of something far more complex than a simple number can capture.
Concepts like temperature reveal the real essence of physics — not just equations, but tools for understanding the invisible patterns underlying our reality.
Quetin’s own wrestling with these fundamental concepts reveals the depth of his approach.
“As an astrophysicist, I’m still, and will forever be, trying to figure out what I mean when I say ‘the universe’ or ‘the sun,’” he said. “I would trust most poets, artists, farmers, etc. over scientists when it comes to describing the nature out there beyond the science.”
Quetin’s call for his students to question physics has fundamentally reshaped how my fellow physics students and I go about our learning. For instance, we recently revived a Physics and Philosophy reading group that had languished since 2019. Now meeting weekly to explore profound questions, with Quetin sometimes joining our discussions, the group has quickly expanded to 28 students within just three weeks of its relaunch.
“The most important things happening within a student are far too complex and beautiful to be captured by data,” Quetin reflected. “It might be just a fleeting moment of awe, or it might percolate within the student for decades.”
Science, at its core, is a deeply human endeavor — a collective journey of curiosity, creativity and connection. It’s about more than equations and measurements; it’s a way of understanding our world that invites us to marvel, to question and to participate in the unfolding of knowledge.
“What I wish all my students to take away from my classes,” Quetin said, “is awe and gratitude that they get to be alive on this wonderful planet, to share and care for the biosphere and participate in the unfolding of the universe.”
In these words lies the crux of a transformative scientific education: one that sees knowledge not as a cold collection of data, but as a living, breathing engagement with the world around us. It’s an invitation to see science not as a distant pursuit, but as a deeply personal and profoundly meaningful way of experiencing our extraordinary existence.
Gabriel Brenner PO ’26 loves exploring the human aspects of science.