Different people do different things. This semester, I’m taking two biology classes and a landscape architecture studio. As an environmental resources engineering major, I feel like they let me out of the computer lab for rumspringa.

Getting past stereotypes can be difficult. Landscape architects are divas. Engineers are socially awkward. At the State University of New York College of Environmental Science and Forestry, the environmental forest biology department assumes it is the entire school.

But we need to get over it. We all need each other. Biologists track species populations on maps created by geospatial engineers; water resources engineers use plants to prevent erosion studied by botanists; and landscape architects consult with engineers and ecologists to make healthier ecosystems. No profession acts in a vacuum.

Typically, engineering design is about defining constraints, quantifying results and building computer models based on available data. Everything has a function with a numeric value. People are usually considered only in how the design affects them. This semester has made me admit engineering has gotten under my skin.

This was first made apparent in EFB 496: ‘Plant Propagation.’ We were planting tomato seeds. My classmates made note of what was planted where in their notebooks. I drew rough diagrams of my planting scheme from two different perspectives. The only other engineer in my class drew a three-dimensional matrix and equally spaced each seed in the pot. The professor laughed at us.

The greenhouses in Illick Hall seem like more fun than should be allowed. We get to play in the dirt and make jokes about sexual and asexual propagation. We don’t even have to hunch over a computer screen. It is always about 75 degrees, and there is a banana tree. In Syracuse. In February.

Last week, I had to adjust my expectations for my landscape architecture studio. Landscape architecture is designing spaces that bring together human-built structures and the natural environment. They make pretty pictures of plants and talk about feelings — this is probably important.

We had posters for our creek restoration design due. These were conceptual posters made to set the foundation of our designs for the rest of the semester, and my classmates started whipping out these fantastic illustrations for technical concepts. You can explain things with pictures instead of graphs. I was shocked we are allowed to do that.

At the same time, the other engineers and I were chomping at the bit to get our hands on some data. Is the stream gaged? Is there data about water chemistry available? Is there GIS data? Can we take soil samples? Who has waders? We were waiting to get some numbers to chew on.

The landscape architects mostly think our math is magic. They talk about rerouting the creek through contaminated industrial sites. We politely explain that would be absolutely disgusting; they smile and act like we’re not total buzzkills.

I still don’t understand the point of ornamental plants, biologists who study specific species in-depth seem like they have fetishes and I can’t tell you exactly why trees make people happy. But that’s OK because someone else can.

Leanna Mulvihill is a senior forest engineering major and environmental writing and rhetoric minor. Her column appears every Tuesday. She can be reached at lpmulvih@syr.edu or followed on Twitter at @LeannaMulvihill.

 

Published on February 6, 2012 at 12:00 pm