Between equations and expectations

Just as physics tests assumptions, students need to step outside their worldview despite societal expectations

Teaching undergraduate students in their fifteenth and sixteenth years of education, with physics as their major, is for me far more than a formal assignment. It is, in fact, a rare privilege to witness the unfolding of young minds at a decisive stage of their development. These years are not only about mastering techniques or solving complex problems; they are also about questioning assumptions, rethinking aspirations and beginning the demanding journey of self-discovery.

At times, a student finds the courage to break this silence. They speak of interests that do not fit neatly into conventional boxes: a desire to combine physics with art or design, to work at the interface of science and society, or simply to explore paths that are not easily labelled or yet fully recognised. They want to ask, often in a very quiet voice: can I follow a route that is not already mapped out for me, and still be trusted and supported? Yet they hesitate, not because their dreams are weak, but because they fear how those dreams will be received at home and in the wider circle of family expectations.

On the other side are parents and elders, acting out of genuine love, who often prioritise stability and security, sometimes above all else. Their understanding of what counts as a good career was formed in a world where job trajectories were relatively linear and predictable, with clear professional ladders and long-term employment in a single sector. The economy their children are entering is very different: uncertain, rapidly changing and increasingly dependent on adaptability, creativity and lifelong learning rather than a single fixed qualification. The tension, therefore, is not between love and indifference, but between two different experiences of risk and opportunity, two different memories of how effort, time and reward are supposed to connect.

Over the years, I have realised that the core problem is rarely a lack of affection; it is a lack of meaningful dialogue. Many interactions between students and families are reduced to brief exchanges or one-sided instructions with little space for listening. In such narrow spaces, misunderstandings multiply. Parents may interpret hesitation as irresponsibility; students may interpret concern as control. When both sides, however, make a conscious effort to listen to understand rather than to win, the conversation changes direction.

In my classroom, I try to model this kind of dialogue in everyday interactions, not only in formal discussions. I remind students that physics is not only a body of results, but a habit of mind: asking questions, testing assumptions, tracing consequences and revising one's views in the light of new evidence and careful reasoning. The same stance, I suggest, is valuable when thinking about one's own life choices and relationships. I encourage students to articulate their goals aloud, to reflect honestly on their strengths and limitations, and to recognise that uncertainty is not a personal failure but a natural feature of growth and sometimes even a sign of deeper maturity. In this sense, the classroom becomes a shared space of negotiation and reflection, where academic learning and personal formation quietly meet.

Elders may not be fluent in the technologies shaping modern work, but they possess forms of wisdom that no algorithm can supply: resilience, patience and perspective. Younger students contribute creativity, adaptability and the courage to explore new spaces. Together, these strengths can form a more productive partnership.

Ultimately, the key lies in moving from a framework of opposition to one of collaboration. When families shift from deciding for their children to deciding with them, students feel trusted rather than controlled and are more likely to take responsibility for their choices. The world around us may be changing rapidly, but certain values remain timeless: empathy, trust, respect and a willingness to listen. These are the bridges that connect cohorts and generations, nurturing graduates who are not only competent but also compassionate and courageous.