“I’m sure all of you have noted the toy catapults and rubber balls on your desks,” the instructor told the statistics class. “It’s your next assignment. Divide up in teams of four. Each team will vary the parameters such as placement, release, tension, height from the ground as examples. Make notes and enter the results in the correlation apps on your laptops, to find out the parameters that will give the best accuracy and maximum range. There will be prizes for the highest accuracy, and for the greatest range.”
The following day: “OK, now, using yesterday’s results, each team will fire their catapults. Team A you’re up first.”
Team A set up their toy, placed a small rubber ball in the cup and fired. Appointed monitors noted where the balls landed. The instructor used a piece of chalk to mark the spot.
“Not bad. Take two more shots.”
“Good work. All are within ‘3 sigma’ or three standard deviations for accuracy. Your distance is good, but not optimal.”
The rest of the teams went though the exercise, leaving Team F for last.
“You’re next Team F…. Team F, you’re up!”
The double doors leading to the lecture hall opened wide and Team F, straining, wheeled in a huge catapult. The members worked the windlass to bring down the throwing arm to the loading position.
“Where in Christ’s name did you get that thing?”
“We borrowed it from a renaissance fair,” the team captain replied. He lifted a large black coloured ball, marked with ‘10 lb’.
“It’s a medicine ball,” he explained. “It weighs ten pounds”.
He placed the ball in the catapult’s throwing arm cup, and stood to the side, holding the firing lanyard. The captain warned: “Stand Aside!” and pulled.
Swishhh! The arm swung upward. Thunk! It hit the padded stop. The rear of the catapult lifted off the ground and dropped back down with a thud. The big, heavy ball flew across the room. Students ducked or scattered; the ball knocked over a table and crashed though a window on the opposite side of the hall.
The instructor yelled. “Are you folks crazy? Look at the damage you caused!”
.
“It wasn’t supposed to do that,” the captain said, puzzled. He looked at the catapult, at the pawl and rachet mechanism used to tighten the throwing bands. He glared at one his crew members, who wore a tag, ‘Hello, my name is --- Fred Smith --- Team F for Fantastic’.
“Fred, did you tighten the band on the throwing arm?”
“Yes, I did, it looked loose.”
“It was supposed to be loose, you idiot! That’s how we set it up! Remember!”
“Oops, my bad,” Fred exclaimed, crestfallen. He turned to the instructor and said, sheepishly. “Do we get the prize for distance?”
The following day: “OK, now, using yesterday’s results, each team will fire their catapults. Team A you’re up first.”
Team A set up their toy, placed a small rubber ball in the cup and fired. Appointed monitors noted where the balls landed. The instructor used a piece of chalk to mark the spot.
“Not bad. Take two more shots.”
“Good work. All are within ‘3 sigma’ or three standard deviations for accuracy. Your distance is good, but not optimal.”
The rest of the teams went though the exercise, leaving Team F for last.
“You’re next Team F…. Team F, you’re up!”
The double doors leading to the lecture hall opened wide and Team F, straining, wheeled in a huge catapult. The members worked the windlass to bring down the throwing arm to the loading position.
“Where in Christ’s name did you get that thing?”
“We borrowed it from a renaissance fair,” the team captain replied. He lifted a large black coloured ball, marked with ‘10 lb’.
“It’s a medicine ball,” he explained. “It weighs ten pounds”.
He placed the ball in the catapult’s throwing arm cup, and stood to the side, holding the firing lanyard. The captain warned: “Stand Aside!” and pulled.
Swishhh! The arm swung upward. Thunk! It hit the padded stop. The rear of the catapult lifted off the ground and dropped back down with a thud. The big, heavy ball flew across the room. Students ducked or scattered; the ball knocked over a table and crashed though a window on the opposite side of the hall.
The instructor yelled. “Are you folks crazy? Look at the damage you caused!”
.
“It wasn’t supposed to do that,” the captain said, puzzled. He looked at the catapult, at the pawl and rachet mechanism used to tighten the throwing bands. He glared at one his crew members, who wore a tag, ‘Hello, my name is --- Fred Smith --- Team F for Fantastic’.
“Fred, did you tighten the band on the throwing arm?”
“Yes, I did, it looked loose.”
“It was supposed to be loose, you idiot! That’s how we set it up! Remember!”
“Oops, my bad,” Fred exclaimed, crestfallen. He turned to the instructor and said, sheepishly. “Do we get the prize for distance?”
