What Happened to Physics Class? A Parent’s Look at How the Subject Is Changing
My daughter dropped her physics binder on the kitchen table last Tuesday, and a single worksheet slid out. It was titled “Calculating Net Force.” There were twelve problems, all identical in structure. A box with arrows. A number of newtons. Find the sum. She had circled the answers neatly. On the back, a small cartoon scientist with wild hair said, “Physics is fun!”
She looked at me and said, “I don’t get what this has to do with anything.”
I remembered my own physics class. Mr. Delgado, who wore the same brown tie every Thursday, had us build a catapult out of popsicle sticks and rubber bands. We spent a week arguing about the best angle for launch. We didn’t call it “projectile motion” until after we had watched a marshmallow sail across the room and hit the whiteboard. The formula came last. The curiosity came first.
That was twenty-five years ago. My daughter is in tenth grade now. Her class is not unusual. Across the country, physics instruction has shifted. Some of it is good. Some of it is a problem. Most of it is just different, and parents are trying to figure out what to do with that difference.
The shift started long before the pandemic. States rewrote science standards. The Next Generation Science Standards, adopted by many states, pushed for fewer topics covered more deeply. That sounded reasonable. But in practice, many schools responded by front-loading vocabulary and formulas so students could pass standardized tests. The hands-on part got squeezed. When budgets tightened, lab equipment was often the first thing to go. A set of motion sensors or a good scale can cost hundreds of dollars. A worksheet costs a few cents.
My daughter’s teacher, Ms. R, is not the villain here. She has 32 students in her class and one working set of spring scales. She told me at parent night that she used to do a unit where kids built cars powered by mousetraps. Now she demonstrates it once, and they watch a video. “I can’t manage 32 kids with tools,” she said. “And I can’t afford the liability if someone snaps a finger.”
So what actually happens in a typical physics class today? I sat in on one. The first fifteen minutes were a review of formulas. Then a slide show with definitions. Then practice problems. The students were quiet and compliant. Two kids in the back were drawing on their hands. One girl asked, “When do we get to use the stuff?” Ms. R said, “If we have time at the end of the unit.”
That is the trade-off many teachers face. Cover the material or let students explore it. With a packed curriculum and a test at the end, the choice is often made for them.
But here is what I have learned from talking to other parents and from trying things at home. You do not need a lab to bring physics back into your child’s life. You need a few minutes and a willingness to be a little bored while they figure something out.
One thing that worked for us: we started asking “what do you notice?” instead of “what did you learn?” The first few times, my daughter rolled her eyes. But then she started noticing things. Why does the car’s windshield get icy on the inside? Why does the shower curtain suck in when you turn on the water? Why does a spinning egg stop differently than a raw one?
We did not look up answers right away. We guessed. We argued. We tested. The egg one took three tries and a lot of paper towels. She did not write down a single equation. But she remembered it.
Another small change: we stopped treating physics as a subject that lives in a binder. When she was learning about circuits, I handed her a flashlight and a screwdriver. Take it apart. See what is inside. She did. She broke the bulb. We bought a new one. The second time, she got it to light up with a battery and a paperclip. No worksheet required.
For parents who want to do more but feel out of their depth, here is a concrete starting point. Pick one thing in your house that moves, heats, or makes noise. A toaster. A bike. A faucet. Ask your child to explain how it works. When they get stuck, ask them what they would need to know to figure it out. That is it. You are not teaching. You are modeling curiosity. Teachers call this “inquiry,” but you can just call it paying attention.
If your child’s class is heavy on formulas, you can also help them see the formulas as tools, not rules. When she was struggling with velocity, I asked her to calculate how fast our dog runs when he chases a squirrel. She measured the distance across the yard with a tape measure. She timed him with her phone. The number she got was close to the textbook answer. More importantly, she saw why the formula exists. It describes something real.
Some schools are finding ways to bring back the hands-on part without a big budget. One middle school near us started a “physics lunch bunch” where kids bring their own materials. They built bridges out of spaghetti. They made rockets from straws and balloons. No grades. No tests. Just a teacher who volunteered her Tuesday lunches. That is not a systemic fix, but it is something.
What remains uncertain is whether the pendulum will swing back. Standardized tests still drive instruction. Class sizes are not shrinking. Lab budgets are still tight. But parents and teachers are talking about this more. Ms. R told me she is trying a new approach next semester. She is going to start each unit with a question instead of a definition. She does not know if it will work with the test schedule. But she is going to try.
My daughter still brings home worksheets. Some nights she sighs and says physics is boring. Other nights she asks me why the moon does not crash into the earth. I do not always have a good answer. We look it up together. We watch a video. We argue about it. That is not the same as building a catapult in Mr. Delgado’s class. But it is close enough for now.
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