Euler is everywhere

By Herman M. Lagon

You do not need to understand Euler to be in awe of him. Just the fact that many of us unknowingly use his legacy daily in our classrooms, computations, or even memes (yes, Euler’s Identity made it to Reddit and TikTok) proves the kind of timeless mind we are talking about. Yet for teachers and learners struggling with K-to-12 math, it is often the same brilliance of Euler that feels like both a blessing and a curse. Leonhard Euler was not just a math genius. He was math. And like most forms of genius, his story is more human than mythical.

Euler was born in 1707 in Basel, Switzerland—a pastor’s son who was expected to follow theology but was seduced early by numbers. With guidance from Johann Bernoulli, one of Europe’s mathematical giants at the time, Euler’s natural talent was refined with quiet persistence. He was solving problems at 13, writing dissertations at 16, and by his early 20s, he was working in St. Petersburg, Russia, beside the best minds in Europe. But it was never about outshining others. Euler, by most accounts, was humble, kind, and almost devoid of drama. It is this modesty paired with relentless curiosity that makes his genius feel within reach, not far-fetched.

Let us talk about output. Euler wrote more than 800 works across mathematics, physics, astronomy, engineering, and even music theory. A full set of his works, the Opera Omnia, continues to be published more than two centuries after his death. Princeton historian Ronald Calinger calls him “the most prolific mathematician in history,” and he is not exaggerating. The Eneström Index lists Euler’s contributions as E1 to E866, which sounds more like a sci-fi starship count than academic production. The sheer volume is hard to imagine, more so when you realize that the last 17 years of Euler’s life were spent completely blind. Imagine mentally calculating integrals while dictating to a scribe, and you begin to grasp the gravity of his work ethic.

Euler’s impact is not just in the elegance of his ideas but in their omnipresence. He popularized symbols we now take for granted: f(x) for functions, e for the natural base, i for the square root of -1, and the beloved Greek letter π (pi). He introduced the modern trigonometric notation and defined logarithms and exponentials for negative and complex numbers. Richard Feynman once called Euler’s identity — e^(iπ) + 1 = 0 — “the most remarkable formula in mathematics.” It is an equation that links the most fundamental constants with shocking simplicity. But beyond the symbols, Euler taught us how to think: analytically, creatively, and across disciplines.

For students, Euler might seem like a distant figure in a colonial math curriculum. But his story contains deeply relatable elements. He was not a child prodigy like Gauss, nor a lone revolutionary like Galois. He was, instead, a community builder. He worked with peers, exchanged letters, mentored students, and wrote textbooks—many designed for non-experts. His Letters to a German Princess was a hit in 18th-century Europe because it explained science in plain language. One could imagine it as the Enlightenment version of DepEd modules. Euler believed that complex ideas could be taught compassionately, something many educators strive for daily in overcrowded classrooms or barangay-based tutorials.

One of the most striking anecdotes about Euler is how he continued working at full intellectual power despite his blindness. His memory and mental math were so precise that he dictated proofs, solved the lunar motion problem, and guided students until his death. It reminds us of the Pinoy “diskarte” mindset, where limited resources are no excuse for giving up. If Euler could do calculus in his head after going blind, surely we can do better than say “Wala na ko sang calculator, sir.” It is not about comparing struggles but finding strength in how limitations can inspire new ways of thinking.

Euler’s most famous non-mathematical legacy in education may be his resolution of the Seven Bridges of Königsberg problem, which laid the foundation of graph theory and modern network analysis. Imagine teaching this using Google Maps or asking students to solve barangay connectivity issues using Eulerian paths. That is the power of mathematics rooted in lived experiences. In a time when we debate whether trigonometry or calculus is “useful,” Euler reminds us that math is not just about answers. It is about understanding systems, patterns, and connections. It is about making the abstract real.

Of course, Euler had flaws, or rather, the limitations of his time. He often used infinite series without the rigor demanded by modern standards. But rather than judge him with today’s lens, we can admire how he pushed the boundaries of what was then acceptable. He walked the fine line between intuition and proof, much like how our best educators today balance formal knowledge with cultural and local contexts. Euler, in effect, was not just solving problems. He was shaping what it meant to solve problems.

Euler teaches the value of persistence, humility, and long-term thinking in a world too often obsessed with the new and shiny. He was not loud. He was not trendy. But he was consistent, generous, and relentlessly curious. Even his faith in God did not divide his intellectual life but deepened his drive for understanding the cosmos. His journey speaks not just to mathematicians but to teachers, scholars, and leaders seeking to live with purpose and quiet excellence.

Leonhard Euler did not just live in the Enlightenment. He lit it. And if there is one lesson we educators and students can take from him, it is this: Genius is not just brilliance. It is consistency with heart. Euler’s life reminds us that the pursuit of knowledge is most powerful when grounded in clarity, care, and an openness to share. He made math human. Now, it is up to us to teach and live it that way.

***

Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.