I really enjoyed hanging out with some of the teachers. This one

Maya Lin once shared with disarming honesty: “I really enjoyed hanging out with some of the teachers. This one chemistry teacher, she liked hanging out. I liked making explosives. We would stay after school and blow things up.” At first, her words may strike us as playful recollection, the memory of a curious student experimenting beyond the ordinary bounds of the classroom. Yet within them lies a deeper truth about the sacred bond between mentor and pupil, and about the fearless spirit of exploration that fuels both science and art.

The meaning of this quote is not in the literal explosives, but in the energy they represent: the fire of curiosity, the spark of imagination, the thrill of discovery. Lin remembers a teacher who did not stifle her eagerness to experiment, but who walked beside her into the unknown. To remain after school and create small explosions is symbolic of something greater: the courage to push boundaries, to test, to play with the raw forces of the world. Where others might have feared or forbidden such experiments, this teacher gave space for curiosity to burn.

The origin of this memory is found in Lin’s own life as a creator. She would go on to design the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, a work of profound power and simplicity, one that reshaped the way nations remember their fallen. Behind such vision lies not just discipline, but also the willingness to challenge convention, to take risks, to let creativity explode beyond safe and easy paths. Those after-school moments of experimentation foreshadowed the daring spirit she would carry into her art and architecture.

History offers us many echoes of this same truth. Recall the young Marie Curie, who, fascinated with physics and chemistry, spent endless hours in makeshift laboratories, experimenting with materials others barely understood. Her pursuit was dangerous, her discoveries hard-won, but from that passion came breakthroughs that transformed science. Or consider Leonardo da Vinci, who dissected bodies in secret, built flying machines that defied imagination, and sketched the mechanics of the future. Their greatness, like Lin’s memory, was born not from rigid adherence to rules but from the audacity to explore the unknown.

This quote also speaks of the teacher’s role. A teacher who joins in the spirit of discovery does more than instruct; they ignite. The chemistry teacher who laughed and worked beside Lin gave her not just knowledge, but confidence. This is the eternal task of the mentor: to stand not above the student as judge, but beside them as fellow traveler. For the greatest teachers are those who turn learning from duty into joy, from task into adventure.

The lesson here is both personal and universal. For each of us, there is a spark—an explosive curiosity that longs to break through the ordinary. Too often, fear or convention suppresses it. But if we are brave enough to pursue it, and if we are blessed with guides who encourage us, that spark can become the fire that shapes a lifetime of work. Whether in science, art, or life itself, passion and curiosity are the true engines of creation.

Practically, this means cultivating a spirit of bold experimentation. Do not fear failure, for every explosion of error brings fragments of truth. Seek mentors who encourage your daring, and if you are a mentor, nurture the fire in your students rather than quenching it. Remember that great works are rarely born of caution; they are born of passion unleashed.

So let Maya Lin’s memory stand as a parable: that within the walls of a humble school, with the guidance of a fearless teacher, a young student found joy in exploration, and that joy became the foundation of genius. Let us all remember to stay after class, to light the spark, to watch with wonder as the world explodes into possibility.