The Solar System Plays Tricks on Us

Just when we think we understand a little bit about our neck of the cosmic woods, something comes up that whacks us upside the head (in a nice way) and spurs lots of questions.

Saturns Active North Pole, courtesy the Cassini Mission.
Saturn's active north pole, courtesy the Cassini Mission.

Take the planet Saturn, for example. We’ve all grown up being taught that this planet is a gas giant—made mostly of hydrogen gas, with varying amounts of helium, ammonia, nitrogen, methane, and other gases in its atmosphere. We’ve studied that atmosphere, charting storms that churn through it, and measuring temperature and wind speed variations. Heavy atmosphere, lots of round or semi-round storms in it, fast winds, and steadily thickening layers as you go down toward the core: that’s what we pegged for Saturn.

Still, the nature of planetary science is to study planets—and keep studying them for long periods of time. Planets aren’t static places, not even the “deadest” of them. Not by any means. They change over time, develop new features on their surfaces or in their atmosphees. And, their visible appearances don’t always tell us the full story. Just look at Saturn with infrared eyes, sensitive to thermal radiation (heat), for example, and interesting features pop right into view.

There’s this bizarre, six-sided feature that encircles the North Pole of the planet near 78 degrees north latitude, for example. It was actually discovered back in the 1980s by the Voyager spacecraft missions, but this is the first time we’ve been able to position a spacecraft (Cassini) in a good orbit to get a clear image of the thing. You can read more about the specifics of the image here, but suffice to say, this is the best view we’ve had of this atmospheric phenomenon ever. The hexagon of clouds is long-lived, so we’ll have much more time to study it (at least as long as Cassini pipes images and data back). But what is it? There’s nothing been seen like it at any other planet in our solar system, and nobody expected to see anything like it in Saturn’s thick atmosphere, either. It’s naturally occurring, so now the trick is to come up with a good atmospheric model that can explain the thing. There is a similar type of atmospheric phenomenon on Earth, called the polar vortex, so perhaps using that as a model, astronomers will be able to get a handle on Saturn’s, which is four times the size of Earth.

I remember when Saturn used to be thought strange because it had rings. Now, it turns out that Jupiter, Uranus, and Neptune have rings. And, in the distant past, Earth might have had one, too. What else will we learn about our solar system before we think we can say we know it all??

The Star Talk Effect

Back when I worked at the planetarium (before I went back to grad school), I used to dread the arrival of spring. Not the nice weather or the flowers. But, at the planetarium, spring meant increasing numbers of field trips. Now, the attendance numbers jumping up was good news. We wanted to see that. But, late in the spring, just when we got more attendance, our student helpers and lecturers were smack in the middle of studying for finals and/or getting ready for graduation. So they weren’t available to do all the star talks I’d trained them to do.

So, what that meant was the lecturing duties would be divvied up amongst a smaller pool of lecturers, or often enough, it was my sole duty to do them. Some days that’s all I did—give lectures to the school groups who came in for star tours and planetarium shows.

Don’t get me wrong—a startalk in the planetarium can be a thing of great beauty and a whole lot of fun to do for a lecturer blessed with a good sense of humor and receptive audiences. Two in a row is interesting. Three in a row is starting to take a toll. Doing six or seven in one day is a marathon. That’s six or seven HOURS of nonstop talking, answering questions, shepherding the students in and out, taking 10 minutes to gulp down lunch, and hopefully running out for a potty break during a pre-recorded show. So, I’d pace myself, and try to make each show as interesting as possible, but by the end of the day, I was definitely not on top of my game. Back when I taught in the classroom (briefly, early in my career) it was the same way. You spend the day in the classroom, with 20 or 30 kids, tending to every need, including the educational, and by the end of the day it was Miller time!

Still, the kids don’t know a planetarium lecturer is tired or talked out or badly need a bathroom break or a cup of coffee. They’re so taken by the whole environment of the planetarium and its cool shape and the equipment and the differentness of it all that they don’t notice the lecturer’s bedragglment late in the day. Which is a good thing. The magic of the dome somehow hides all that.

I was thinking about those days a couple of weeks ago when I was making arrangements to record a couple of narrators for a new set of shows that Mark and I have just released. They’re basically pre-recorded star talks for use in fulldome video planetarium systems. I was explaining the concept to one of the narrators, and I told her about my days in the planetarium and just how draining it could be, even though I was totally turned on about teaching under the dome. The memory of that theater experience was part of the impetus for these shows, in a way. Another was a request from a planetarium colleague who had NO staff to help give shows, and he needed a product to help him meet the demand for star shows. So, we created our stargazing show project to provide totally consistent shows that fulldomers can use, regardless of how well-staffed or prepared they are.

I wish I’d had them back in my own halcyon days of lecturing. I could have used them as stand-alones, or coupled them with Q&A sessions, which were some of my favorite times. A Q&A let me sort of “peek” inside the visitors’ heads to see what their understanding of astronomy was. They never let me down and a lot of times I got into some really cool conversations with attendees.

Which reminds me of a great star talk I heard at a star party in Ontario one time. It was really late in the evening and a group of us were sitting around one guy’s telescope talking about our first visits to planetariums. One of the guys gave a great imitation of a startalk presenter as if he was Dr. Frankenstein’s monster. The puns were awful, and we went away with our bellies aching from laughing so hard. But,for me, it was interesting to see that somebody got something out of the star talk, and remembered enough of it to do a credible imitation a few years later. That’s the beauty of any star talk—if it touches a person and makes them want to go outside and look up, then the effect is good, no matter how tired the lecturer might be.

Exploring Science and the Cosmos

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