> Science makes me feel stupid too. It's just that I've gotten used to it.
When I started my PhD program, a group of us were given a little talk by the department secretary.
She told the story of how she went to audition for Jeopardy!, a trivia game show. She saw a whole bunch of other people at the audition get really nervous and choke up; her take on it was that they were used to being the most knowledgable in the room -- they were used to sitting in front of the TV screen with their friends or family and knowing every fact, and when they were suddenly confronted with a situation where everyone was as knowledgable as they were, they were suddenly very intimidated.
She, on the other hand, was completely relaxed -- she spent her days working with Nobel prize winners and loads of other people for whom she had no doubt were smarter than her. Being confronted with loads of people smarter than her was a daily experience.
She told this story to us to say, a lot of you will experience the same thing: You were used to being the smartest person in your High School, you were even used to being the smartest person in your classes at the prestigious university you attended. Now you'll encounter a situation where everyone is like you: the best and most driven people in your classes.
You'll feel stupid and inferior for a bit, and that's normal. Don't let it bother you. Eventually you'll notice while that most of these other people have areas where they're better than you, they have areas where you're better. And there will still be the occasional person who seems better than you at everything: that's OK too. You're not the best at everything, and you don't have to be.
For every job I've ever had, I've been the "math and functional programming nerd", where I know lots of tricks in Haskell and F# and even concurrency theory within Java. I felt very smart.
I went to ICFP in 2019, and I can say with a high degree of confidence that I was the dumbest person there [1]. Everyone was speaking on four-syllable mathematical notation that I had never heard of, and talking about intricacies in GHC that I wasn't really familiar with, and different aspects of type theory that were completely foreign to me.
It was very humbling; it didn't depress me or anything, but made me realize that there's a lot to learn and improve on, and the people there were actually extremely nice and gave me some pointers so I can get incrementally closer to being as smart as they are.
I think 2024 Tom would be the second dumbest guy in the room if I went again.
[1] Knowledge-wise, I have no idea about IQ or anything.
Just imagine how much of a waste of time it would have been to attend a conference where everyone was pointing out mathematical concepts you had heard of, talking about intracacies in GHC you were familiar with, and discussing different aspects of type theory you thought were completely trivial!
In a sense, this is how being in a foreign country where people talk in other languages and act within their own culture. They are more productive than you because the environment fits them more than it does you at that time.
And this acclimation is also similar to https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mathematical_maturity, how you talk with math people the from math village and feel you are stupid because you're not familiar with the symbols, the vocabularies. But when you have learned the language, you will see that you become better and better at learning, you have the means to gain more means--forming some sort of a positive feedback loop.
There is an alternate interpretation, that the existence of an explicit exception proves (confirms) the existence of a rule to which an exception can be made.
So the (existence of an) exception proves (the existence of) the rule.
I agree in that the meaning of prove in that context is "put it to the test" but for me it doesn't go as far as finding the rule incorrect, because it's a general rule, not an absolute rule. A lot more exceptions would be necessary to make the rule incorrect for the general case.
I always thought that the "rule" referred to is that "all rules have exceptions" (R1). i.e. there's a rule (in this case "only men with big beards can tame a unix system" (R2)) which, however, has an exception ("girls in dinosaur themeparks can also do so" (E1)). Therefore, the R1 is, once again, shown to be true.
Hmmm... self-referential vibes coming here. It might be that the only exception to the R1 is itself, but then... etc.
The phrase bothers me because it's often used to set up a cousin to the no true scotsman fallacy. If you can't find an exception, then it proves the nay-sayer right. If you CAN find an exception.... it still proves the naysayer right?!?
I wouldn't use the phrase outside of silly internet jokes about 90s popcorn flicks.
The implication is that the exceptions are outliers.
If your rule is that carpenters are usually men and someone goes into a carpentry conference with 1000 carpenters and points out that 50 of them are women, you get to say "exception that proves the rule" and be right.
If your rule is that carpenters are usually women and someone goes into a carpentry conference with 1000 carpenters and points out that 950 of them are men, that's not the exception that proves the rule because 95% of the target population doesn't qualify as an exception.
Cory Doctrow mentioned "one graybeard (literally -- he had a Unix beard of great rattiness and gravitas) who had no fewer than seven devices on his belt, including a line tester and a GPS."
That secretary is probably hard funded, makes more money than 75% of the scientists she supported, enjoys vacations, and will have a comfortable retirement.
I've had the chance to work with world class people in three different fields now. Inevitably, the people who were at the very top (World Champions, folk who literally invented (parts of) the Internet, people creating products for a massive fanbase) didn't "want to be the very best". And they were extremely comfortable with other people being smarter, if it happened.
They inevitably got to the top because every day, they wanted to be a bit better than the last day. "The best" never mattered. "Better than yesterday" did. And when they were at the top, they were the most kind and helpful people you can imagine - uplifting others whenever they could.
And they certainly didn't want to be "like no one ever was" - they invariably had a deep appreciation for the ones who came before them, and they copied everything that seemed worth copying.
The people who don't heed that advice, who don't give that advice, who relentlessly claw? Perpetual second tier, without exception.
Yeah, I had a similar sentiment as I read the last sentence: "You're not the best at everything, and you don't have to be."
It really does get harder to internalize this when it starts to involve real, tangible outcomes like money and job security. No one would reasonably argue that what she said wasn't true on some spiritual or personal level, but it feels like a nothing-burger when people are clearly in a competitive environment, a competitive program, a competitive job, etc.
It might feel that way, but I think it's really worth asking : is it?
If I put humility aside for a moment, I'm awfully good in my field, and academia is hyper competitive, and yet I know people who are better at everything that I do -- and just like the secretary in that example, I know some people who I think could do everything that I can better than I do.
But that really is okay, the world has room for all of us and more, and is much better off for having several of us applying our skills and abilities. We are not short on important problems to solve, we are short on solutions and solvers!
> She, on the other hand, was completely relaxed -- she spent her days working with Nobel prize winners and loads of other people for whom she had no doubt were smarter than her. Being confronted with loads of people smarter than her was a daily experience.
I'm a college dropout who has managed to work professionally, in software, in RF / embedded development, medical robotics, all over the web, and most recently in AAA games. I've called PhDs colleagues, people with multiple Masters, people with decades of industry experience at the top of their fields...
I always feel like the odd-man out, and, while it used to bother me a bit, I'm pretty content with the fact that I probably always will. I frequently feel like I'm inferior to my colleagues, because of the sheer depth of their knowledge as it relates to whatever the particular domain is.
But I have the sense that I'm doing something right because I get great reviews, I frequently find moments where I can teach my colleagues something they didn't know, and they come to me for help, advice, and say good things about me (and vice versa).
But it is still a very odd feeling and I think it'll be with me for however long I work in this industry.
Athletes deal with it too. You go from being the best football player in your school, maybe even the best football player in your college. Then you go to the NFL and you're middle of the pack. Lots of guys get lost at the transition: a first round draft pick gets to the NFL and immediately loses his mojo.
I feel like this "get ready to be surrounded by peers for the first time" or the related "you aren't used to working hard, but now you will actually have to work hard" speech was given to me in some form at the start of high school, college, grad school, and in many other contexts and intermediate milestones. It wasn't ever completely true, but I think if I went for a PhD it would (obviously) have finally been true.
To be clear, I'm not saying I was always smarter than people around me, I just felt like I never had to work as hard as I suspected even through my Masters program.
Perhaps we should replace this messaging with "You may find that you won't have to work hard to get through X, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't." Educators don't have the time or ability to set up an incentive scheme that makes you "have to" work your hardest, but it gets more rewarding at each level.
Bingo. You can breeze through all levels of education with a combination of personality and picking the right courses. Your faculty tend to be overworked and underpaid for the work they do. You are one of hundreds. They do not exist to make sure you're actually learning anything, just that you can spit back the course content appropriately.
But once you get over the barrier to entry for most white-collar jobs (bachelor degree), what's the point? If you're not getting anything out of the education, you're only borrowing trouble from yourself in the future.
My bachelor's was relatively easy. My masters was MASSIVELY difficult. The PhD was even harder.
When I started my PhD program, a group of us were given a little talk by the department secretary.
She told the story of how she went to audition for Jeopardy!, a trivia game show. She saw a whole bunch of other people at the audition get really nervous and choke up; her take on it was that they were used to being the most knowledgable in the room -- they were used to sitting in front of the TV screen with their friends or family and knowing every fact, and when they were suddenly confronted with a situation where everyone was as knowledgable as they were, they were suddenly very intimidated.
She, on the other hand, was completely relaxed -- she spent her days working with Nobel prize winners and loads of other people for whom she had no doubt were smarter than her. Being confronted with loads of people smarter than her was a daily experience.
She told this story to us to say, a lot of you will experience the same thing: You were used to being the smartest person in your High School, you were even used to being the smartest person in your classes at the prestigious university you attended. Now you'll encounter a situation where everyone is like you: the best and most driven people in your classes.
You'll feel stupid and inferior for a bit, and that's normal. Don't let it bother you. Eventually you'll notice while that most of these other people have areas where they're better than you, they have areas where you're better. And there will still be the occasional person who seems better than you at everything: that's OK too. You're not the best at everything, and you don't have to be.