College of Engineering Magazine- Spring 2001

Function Key

Stormy Attaway Teaches Freshmen the Computing Ropes — and More

By Ryan Asmussen

It’s a Monday afternoon in Professor Stormy Attaway’s Engineering Computation Lab, and the class is Introduction to Engineering Computation. The lab – six rows, six workstations per row – features an overhead display unit for Attaway to project whatever she is demonstrating from her podium PC. Today’s lesson is the concept and application of functions in C language, which, it turns out, is an apt analogy for what Attaway does so successfully in the classroom. Functions break down programming commands to manageable levels for problem solving; so does Attaway for her students. Moving confidently from the mouse-click to the telling hand gesture, she conveys the necessary information clearly and efficiently. Whatever vital point she wishes to illustrate does not dwell in the realm of the elevated abstract: Attaway brings it down and makes it live and breathe onscreen.

Freshman Impressions

After receiving her B.S. in geology from the University of South Carolina (her home state), Attaway came to BU and earned an M.S. in computer science and an interdisciplinary Ph.D. that combined aspects of computer science, applied math, and engineering. She joined the BU faculty in 1986, straight out of school, and almost immediately made her presence known as a member of the teaching faculty. Unlike most ENG faculty, who mix teaching with their research, Attaway is primarily engaged in hands-on work with students, along with a sizeable load of administrative duties. Associate chairman for undergraduate studies in the manufacturing engineering department and ENG’s freshman curriculum coordinator, she works closely with ENG’s Undergraduate Affairs staff on all freshman issues. Since 1988 she has represented the University at several Society of Manufacturing Engineers (SME) undergraduate curriculum workshops and has served on national SME committees, including the SME Education Committee.

Two courses are required of all engineering freshmen: Introduction to Engineering and Introduction to Engineering Computation. Attaway coordinates both and teaches the latter in several sections to 160 to 200 students per semester. “I love working with them,” she says. “They’re excited about what they’re doing, even if they don’t always know what it is they’re doing.”

The Convergence of Past and Present

The lecture portion of the class is over, and two teaching assistants begin handing out worksheets. An old news clipping tacked on one of the room’s corkboards marvels at the incredible advance in computer technology since the post-war days of the punch card.

“When I first started teaching, fourteen years ago,” says Attaway, “students would complain and say things like ‘why do I have to take this computer class?’ Now it’s very clear to them that computers are everywhere and they better do something about it.”

On other corkboards, dozens of clippings of famous BU hockey moments cheer silently. The connection becomes clear after a quick glance at the course syllabus. Listed there, along with Attaway’s e-mail address and other pertinent contact information, is her Terrier season ticket section, row, and seat number, in case student-fans find themselves needing to talk to her during a game.

The students break off into groups of two and three and huddle over the shared terminals. Some teams unselfconsciously talk their way through the problems; others are less voluble, clicking away at their keyboards with a quiet intensity. Attaway visits them all, her approach tailored to the students at hand. She squats down beside one troubled pair, seeking eye-contact with them before carefully outlin ing procedure. With another, more assured group, she casually sits on the desk to their left and exchanges playful ideas. Whatever the situation, she is eager to dive right in with her students. “That way, it’s much more fun for me and for them,” she says. “I like to encourage talk and mingling. I view my courses as being not only academic exercises, but social exercises, too. In a sense, they’re an introduction to the College and so I want everyone to feel comfortable.”

Which brings us back to the beginnings of Attaway’s career and to the lab itself. In the old days, 180 freshmen would, according to Attaway, “sit dozing in an auditorium” while she wrote out rough estimations of computer programs on a blackboard. Then, on a different day, they would go to lab, hopefully retaining what they had been taught earlier. Attaway had the class broken up into sections. The addition of transparencies and an overhead projector to the class helped, but it wasn’t until the construction of 15 St. Mary’s Street, the building where the lab is now housed, that the course really started to fulfill the needs of the students.

“I asked for a lab, this lab, to be built according to certain specifications, and the College was very cooperative. They could see what I was trying to do. So in came the terminals and the display unit and, suddenly, I could expose my students to preloaded programs showing what Matlab, for example, actually looked like. It’s so much better for the kids this way.”

Farmhouses, Five-Way Chilies, and Her Father’s Wit

“My husband and I live in a 200-year-old farmhouse with just one wood stove,” says Attaway. “There’s a juxtaposition for you: me teaching all of this high-tech stuff in Boston and then going home to an old farmhouse with no central heat. It’s lovely. We have an orchard and gardens, and free-range chickens. My house is really one of my favorite things.”

Another of Attaway’s favorite things is cooking. Every three or four weeks she makes lunch for the undergraduate and graduate College’s staff, a group ranging from twelve to twenty people. “It’s a way of getting everybody out of their office to be social,” she says, “and also a way for people to learn about different foods. Cincinnati Five-Way Chili is next on the menu. I don’t think many people have ever had that.”

As to the non-engineering question that she must answer more than any other, Attaway is ready with a response. “I was given both of my grandmothers’ first names, but when it came time early on to actually call me something, no one wanted to offend either grandmother. So we needed a neutral name. My father, who is a bit of a punster, said, ‘Well, she squalls a lot. Let’s call her Stormy.’”

It’s not an entirely fitting nickname for her anymore, if one thinks of rough seas and screaming gulls. But if one can imagine a tempest of creative activity, gusting through the College’s hallways and improving the lives of freshmen, her father then might be less a teller of puns and more a teller of fortunes.


Function Key Stormy Attaway Teaches Freshmen the Computing Ropes — and More By Ryan Asmussen It’s a Monday afternoon in Professor Stormy Attaway’s Engineering Computation Lab, and the class is Introduction to Engineering Computation. The lab – six rows, six workstations per row – features an overhead display unit for Attaway to project whatever she is demonstrating from her podium PC. Today’s lesson is the concept and application of functions in C language, which, it turns out, is an apt analogy for what Attaway does so successfully in the classroom. Functions break down programming commands to manageable levels for problem solving; so does Attaway for her students. Moving confidently from the mouse-click to the telling hand gesture, she conveys the necessary information clearly and efficiently. Whatever vital point she wishes to illustrate does not dwell in the realm of the elevated abstract: Attaway brings it down and makes it live and breathe onscreen. Freshman Impressions After receiving her B.S. in geology from the University of South Carolina (her home state), Attaway came to BU and earned an M.S. in computer science and an interdisciplinary Ph.D. that combined aspects of computer science, applied math, and engineering. She joined the BU faculty in 1986, straight out of school, and almost immediately made her presence known as a member of the teaching faculty. Unlike most ENG faculty, who mix teaching with their research, Attaway is primarily engaged in hands-on work with students, along with a sizeable load of administrative duties. Associate chairman for undergraduate studies in the manufacturing engineering department and ENG’s freshman curriculum coordinator, she works closely with ENG’s Undergraduate Affairs staff on all freshman issues. Since 1988 she has represented the University at several Society of Manufacturing Engineers (SME) undergraduate curriculum workshops and has served on national SME committees, including the SME Education Committee. Two courses are required of all engineering freshmen: Introduction to Engineering and Introduction to Engineering Computation. Attaway coordinates both and teaches the latter in several sections to 160 to 200 students per semester. “I love working with them,” she says. “They’re excited about what they’re doing, even if they don’t always know what it is they’re doing.” The Convergence of Past and Present The lecture portion of the class is over, and two teaching assistants begin handing out worksheets. An old news clipping tacked on one of the room’s corkboards marvels at the incredible advance in computer technology since the post-war days of the punch card. “When I first started teaching, fourteen years ago,” says Attaway, “students would complain and say things like ‘why do I have to take this computer class?’ Now it’s very clear to them that computers are everywhere and they better do something about it.” On other corkboards, dozens of clippings of famous BU hockey moments cheer silently. The connection becomes clear after a quick glance at the course syllabus. Listed there, along with Attaway’s e-mail address and other pertinent contact information, is her Terrier season ticket section, row, and seat number, in case student-fans find themselves needing to talk to her during a game. The students break off into groups of two and three and huddle over the shared terminals. Some teams unselfconsciously talk their way through the problems; others are less voluble, clicking away at their keyboards with a quiet intensity. Attaway visits them all, her approach tailored to the students at hand. She squats down beside one troubled pair, seeking eye-contact with them before carefully outlin ing procedure. With another, more assured group, she casually sits on the desk to their left and exchanges playful ideas. Whatever the situation, she is eager to dive right in with her students. “That way, it’s much more fun for me and for them,” she says. “I like to encourage talk and mingling. I view my courses as being not only academic exercises, but social exercises, too. In a sense, they’re an introduction to the College and so I want everyone to feel comfortable.” Which brings us back to the beginnings of Attaway’s career and to the lab itself. In the old days, 180 freshmen would, according to Attaway, “sit dozing in an auditorium” while she wrote out rough estimations of computer programs on a blackboard. Then, on a different day, they would go to lab, hopefully retaining what they had been taught earlier. Attaway had the class broken up into sections. The addition of transparencies and an overhead projector to the class helped, but it wasn’t until the construction of 15 St. Mary’s Street, the building where the lab is now housed, that the course really started to fulfill the needs of the students. “I asked for a lab, this lab, to be built according to certain specifications, and the College was very cooperative. They could see what I was trying to do. So in came the terminals and the display unit and, suddenly, I could expose my students to preloaded programs showing what Matlab, for example, actually looked like. It’s so much better for the kids this way.” Farmhouses, Five-Way Chilies, and Her Father’s Wit “My husband and I live in a 200-year-old farmhouse with just one wood stove,” says Attaway. “There’s a juxtaposition for you: me teaching all of this high-tech stuff in Boston and then going home to an old farmhouse with no central heat. It’s lovely. We have an orchard and gardens, and free-range chickens. My house is really one of my favorite things.” Another of Attaway’s favorite things is cooking. Every three or four weeks she makes lunch for the undergraduate and graduate College’s staff, a group ranging from twelve to twenty people. “It’s a way of getting everybody out of their office to be social,” she says, “and also a way for people to learn about different foods. Cincinnati Five-Way Chili is next on the menu. I don’t think many people have ever had that.” As to the non-engineering question that she must answer more than any other, Attaway is ready with a response. “I was given both of my grandmothers’ first names, but when it came time early on to actually call me something, no one wanted to offend either grandmother. So we needed a neutral name. My father, who is a bit of a punster, said, ‘Well, she squalls a lot. Let’s call her Stormy.’” It’s not an entirely fitting nickname for her anymore, if one thinks of rough seas and screaming gulls. But if one can imagine a tempest of creative activity, gusting through the College’s hallways and improving the lives of freshmen, her father then might be less a teller of puns and more a teller of fortunes.
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