Engineering Foundations: How Things Get Designed and Built
The engineering design process, fields and careers, measurement and estimation, forces and structures, circuits, and code and testing.
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Short, self-paced courses on how things get designed, built and tested, with calculators to try, quizzes to check yourself, and a certificate when you finish each one. Free, and no account needed.
The engineering design process, fields and careers, measurement and estimation, forces and structures, circuits, and code and testing.
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Six short lessons on the design process, engineering fields and careers, measurement, forces and structures, circuits, and code and testing. Free, self-paced, no account needed, and a certificate at the end.
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Engineering isn't about getting it right the first time. It's a way of working that gets you to something that works, one test at a time.
Engineers use science and math to solve problems for people. A bridge that carries traffic, a water filter, a phone app, a prosthetic hand: each one started with someone who had a problem and an engineer who asked, "How could we fix that?"
Engineers almost never get to design whatever they like. They work within limits: a budget, a deadline, the materials available, safety rules, the space something has to fit in. Solving a problem well inside those limits is the heart of the job.
Different textbooks draw it with slightly different boxes, but the engineering design process as it's commonly taught looks like this:
It's a loop, not a straight line. Testing usually sends you back to improve, and sometimes all the way back to redefine the problem. Each pass through the loop is called an iteration.
Defining the problem means writing down two kinds of things:
An idea that scores well on every criterion but breaks a constraint is out. A $50 design doesn't count if your budget is $5.
You rarely get the best of everything. A sturdier design may cost more or take longer to build. Giving up some of one thing to get more of another is a trade-off, and engineers make them all the time.
A decision matrix helps you make trade-offs on purpose. List your criteria, give each a weight for how much it matters, and score each idea (say, 1 to 5) on every criterion. Multiply each score by its weight and add them up. The highest weighted total is a strong candidate, not an automatic winner, but it shows clearly why you chose what you did.
In engineering, a failed test isn't a bad grade. It's data. It tells you exactly where your design and the real world disagree, which is the most useful thing you can learn early, while changes are cheap.
That's why engineers build prototypes, often rough ones from cardboard, tape or scrap material. It's far better to find out a stand tips over when it's made of scrap wood than after you've made a hundred of them.
When something fails, ask three questions: What happened? Why did it happen? What one change would fix it? Change one thing at a time, then test again. If you change five things at once and it works, you won't know which change mattered.
An engineering notebook is a dated record of your whole design: the problem statement, criteria and constraints, sketches of every idea (even rejected ones), your decision matrix, measurements, test results and what you changed after each test.
Write in it as you go, not afterward. Date each page, label your sketches, and never tear out pages. Cross mistakes out with a single line so they stay readable. A failed idea you recorded can save you, or a teammate, from trying it again.
The notebook also makes the last step, communicating, much easier. When someone asks "Why did you build it that way?", the answer is already written down.
Design a stand that holds a paperback book open at a readable angle, using only paper, tape and scissors. First write down two criteria and two constraints. Sketch three ideas and score them in a small decision matrix. Build the winner, then test it: does it hold the book for one minute without collapsing? Record what failed, change one thing, and test again. Put it all in a notebook page with today's date.
"Engineer" isn't one job. It's a whole family of jobs, and almost anything you care about has a field of engineering behind it.
Every field of engineering uses the design process from Lesson 1. What changes is what they design. Here are the big ones, each with something you've probably used this week:
Real projects rarely belong to one field. Think about a hospital. Civil and structural engineers design the building and its foundation. Mechanical engineers handle heating, cooling and fresh air. Electrical engineers plan the power, including backup power for when the grid goes down. Biomedical engineers work on the medical equipment, software engineers build the patient-record systems, and industrial engineers plan how patients and staff move through it all.
A phone needs electrical and computer engineers for the circuits, software engineers for the apps, mechanical engineers for the case and for keeping it cool, chemical engineers for battery materials, and industrial engineers to build millions of them. A bridge needs structural engineers, plus environmental engineers protecting the river underneath.
That's why teamwork matters: you'll often work with people who know things you don't.
Engineering teams include more than engineers. In general:
Titles and duties vary by employer, and every role matters: a design is only as good as the people who build, test and maintain it.
Most engineers earn a four-year bachelor's degree in engineering. Whatever the field, you can expect math through calculus and beyond, physics, chemistry, design projects, programming and lab courses where you test real things. Many programs share a common set of first-year courses before you specialize.
In the US, look for programs accredited by ABET, an organization that reviews engineering programs to check that they meet quality standards. It matters later if you want a license.
A Professional Engineer (PE) license lets an engineer take legal responsibility for work that affects the public, such as signing off on plans. Each state sets its own rules, but the path generally looks like this:
Licensure is especially common in civil engineering and related fields, where engineers approve public projects like roads and water systems. Many engineers in other fields, especially those designing products inside companies, work without one.
Some skills matter no matter which field you pick: problem solving, math, communication, teamwork and writing. Engineers write reports, emails, test results and instructions all the time, and a great design that no one understands never gets built.
You don't have to wait for college to explore. In high school you can:
Make your own version of Jasmine's table. List four things you enjoy, in school or out of it, and write at least one engineering field next to each. Which field shows up most? Then pick one small next step for this month: a class to sign up for, a club meeting to visit, or one question to ask a teacher, family friend or neighbor who works in a technical job.
Engineers can't build what they can't measure. A good measurement has a number, a unit, and an honest sense of how close it is to the truth.
If someone tells you a board is "3 long", you can't cut it. Three what? Three millimeters, three feet and three meters are completely different boards. A number without a unit is meaningless. Always write the unit, even in the middle of a calculation.
Mixing units is one of the most common ways real engineering goes wrong. When one team works in inches and pounds and another assumes centimeters and kilograms, every number can look reasonable while the parts don't fit, a load is calculated wrong, or a system behaves in a way nobody planned. Mistakes like this have ruined expensive projects. The fix is simple: agree on units up front, label everything, and convert carefully when you have to.
Scientists and engineers around the world use the International System of Units (SI), the modern metric system. It has seven base units. These five are the ones you'll use most:
(The other two are the mole, for amount of substance, and the candela, for brightness of light.)
Prefixes scale a unit up or down by powers of ten, and these conversions are exact:
In the US you'll also see US customary units such as inches, feet, pounds and miles. Engineers here often use both, so conversion is a core skill.
A conversion factor is a fraction whose top and bottom are equal amounts in different units, like 2.54 cm over 1 in. Because the top equals the bottom, multiplying by it changes the units without changing the actual size. Some useful ones:
To convert, write the value with its unit, then multiply by the factor arranged so the unit you don't want cancels:
The same method turns a 12-inch ruler into centimeters: 12 in × (2.54 cm / 1 in) = 30.48 cm. If the units don't cancel the way you want, the factor is upside down.
These two words sound alike but mean different things. Accuracy is how close a measurement is to the true value. Precision is how close repeated measurements are to each other. Picture darts: a tight cluster far from the bullseye is precise but not accurate. Darts scattered evenly around the bullseye are accurate on average but not precise. Good measurements are both.
Every measurement has some error, the difference between what you measured and the true, or accepted, value. Error isn't a blunder; it comes from the tool's limits, reading a scale at an angle, or the object itself. Because no part can be made perfectly either, drawings give a tolerance: a part marked "10.0 mm ± 0.1 mm" is acceptable anywhere from 9.9 mm to 10.1 mm. A part measuring 10.08 mm passes; one measuring 9.85 mm is rejected.
To compare errors fairly, engineers use percent error:
percent error = |measured − accepted| ÷ accepted × 100
The bars mean "absolute value", so percent error is never negative. Being off by 1 cm on a 10 cm pencil is a 10% error; being off by 1 cm on a 100 m track is only 0.01%. Try the calculator below with your own measurements.
Percent error = |measured − accepted| ÷ accepted × 100. Use the same unit for both values.
Engineers often need a rough answer fast, before any careful calculation. A back-of-the-envelope or Fermi estimate breaks a big question into pieces you can guess sensibly, then multiplies them out using round numbers. The goal is the right size, not the exact value.
How many times does a car tire turn in one mile? A typical car tire is about 0.65 m across, so its circumference is about π × 0.65 m ≈ 2 m. A mile is about 1,600 m. So 1,600 m ÷ 2 m per turn ≈ 800 turns. A careful calculation gives about 790, so the estimate is close.
Estimates also help you sanity-check answers. Before you trust a result, ask:
Pick something with a length printed on it, like a sheet of printer paper or a ruler, and measure it five times with a tape measure. Record each reading with its unit, find the average, and calculate your percent error against the printed length. Then convert your average to the other system (centimeters to inches or inches to centimeters) and ask: does the answer make sense?
Every bridge, bookshelf and bike frame is quietly pushing and pulling against the forces on it. Engineers decide how it will win.
A force is a push or a pull. In SI units it's measured in newtons (N). One newton is the force that speeds up a 1 kg mass by 1 meter per second, every second. A 100 g apple in your hand pushes down with about 1 N.
Weight is the pull of gravity on a mass. On Earth, that's about 9.8 N for every kilogram:
weight (N) ≈ mass (kg) × 9.8 m/s²
A 1 kg bag of rice weighs about 9.8 N. A 60 kg person weighs about 588 N. In US customary units, force is measured in pounds-force (lbf), and 1 lbf is about 4.45 N.
The forces a structure carries are called loads. There are two broad kinds:
Inside a structure, loads become two basic kinds of force. Tension pulls a part apart, like a rope in a tug-of-war. Compression squeezes it, like a column holding up a porch roof. Stress is force spread over an area, so the same force on a thinner part means more stress.
Pin four sticks into a square and it folds into a diamond with almost no push. Pin three into a triangle and it won't budge: with three side lengths fixed, a triangle can only have one shape, so it can't deform unless a side stretches or squashes. That's why triangles are called rigid.
A truss is a frame made of connected triangles. You'll see them in bridges, roof frames and cranes. Each member is mostly in tension or compression, so a truss carries big loads with little material.
A beam carries loads across a gap, like a shelf or a plank over a stream. Picture a beam resting on a support at each end with a load on the middle. As it sags, the top gets squeezed (compression) while the bottom gets stretched (tension). Bend a rubber eraser and you can see it happen.
Choosing a material means trading off several properties:
Materials can behave differently in tension and compression. Steel is strong in tension. Concrete is strong in compression but weak in tension: a plain concrete beam cracks along its stretched bottom. So builders cast steel bars into the concrete where tension will be. That's reinforced concrete: each material does what it's good at.
Engineers never design a part to hold only the load they expect. They build in a factor of safety: the load that would make it fail divided by the expected load. A shelf expected to hold 200 N that would only fail at 600 N has a factor of safety of 3. The margin covers surprises: heavier loads, flaws in the material, wear over time. For real structures, building codes set how big it must be.
A lever is a stiff bar that turns around a pivot point called the fulcrum. Seesaws and pry bars are levers. The force you apply is the effort; what you're moving is the load.
A force's turning effect is called its moment (or torque):
moment = force × distance from the fulcrum
In newtons and meters, moment is in newton-meters (N·m). A lever balances when the moments on each side are equal:
load × load distance = effort × effort distance
So the effort needed is load × load distance ÷ effort distance. The mechanical advantage, how many times the lever multiplies your force, is effort distance ÷ load distance for an ideal lever with no friction. The trade-off: your end moves farther than the load does, by the same ratio. You get an easier push, over a longer distance.
Try the calculator below. Any units work if both distances use the same one.
An ideal lever with no friction: load × load distance = effort × effort distance. Any units work if both distances use the same one.
Balance a 30 cm ruler on a round pencil at its 15 cm mark. Stack four identical coins 5 cm from the pencil. Where must two coins go on the other side to balance it? Predict, then test. (About 10 cm, since 4 × 5 = 2 × 10.) Then join paper strips into a square and a triangle with paper fasteners at the corners, and push gently on a corner of each.
Safety: lift heavy things with your legs and a straight back, and get help rather than straining alone. Use pry bars and other tools only with safety glasses and adult supervision, and never put fingers or feet under a raised load.
Every phone, flashlight and robot runs on the same few ideas: a push, a flow and something that resists it. Learn how they fit and you can predict what a circuit will do before you build it.
Everything in this lesson uses small batteries (about 1.5 V to 9 V) and low-power parts, like those in a classroom electronics set. At that level, the circuits here are safe to build with care.
Atoms contain tiny particles with electric charge. Electrons carry negative charge, and in metals some are free to move. Charge is measured in coulombs (C).
A handy picture is water in pipes. The battery is like a pump, voltage is like the water pressure it creates, current is like how much water flows each second, and resistance is like a narrow section of pipe that slows the flow.
The analogy has limits. Cut a water pipe and water pours out; cut a wire and the current just stops, because no charge spills out. And the battery doesn't fill empty wires: the charges are already in the wire, and it pushes them along. These are SI units, used everywhere; there's no US customary version of a volt or an amp.
Current only flows around a complete loop. A closed circuit is an unbroken path from one battery terminal, through a device such as a bulb, and back to the other terminal. Break the loop anywhere and you have an open circuit: no current, nothing happens. A switch is just a neat way of opening and closing a circuit.
What the path is made of matters. Conductors, like copper, aluminum and other metals, let charge flow easily. Insulators, like plastic, rubber, glass and dry wood, don't. That's why wires are metal inside and wrapped in plastic.
A short circuit happens when a path with almost no resistance connects the battery's terminals directly, skipping the device. With almost nothing to limit it, the current gets very large. Wires and the battery heat up fast; they can burn you, melt insulation, and some batteries can leak, swell or catch fire. Never connect a bare wire straight across a battery, and never carry loose batteries in a pocket with coins or keys.
For many parts, especially resistors, voltage, current and resistance are linked by Ohm's law:
V = I × R (voltage in volts = current in amps × resistance in ohms)
Rearrange it to find whichever one you're missing:
Use amps, not milliamps, in the formula, and convert at the end. Power is how fast energy is used, measured in watts (W): P = V × I. Power in a resistor turns into heat, so every resistor has a power rating it shouldn't go over. Small resistors like the ones in classroom sets are often rated for 0.25 W.
Try the calculator below: enter a voltage and a resistance to get the current and the power.
I = V ÷ R and P = V × I. For experiments, stick to small batteries (about 1.5–9 V): never wall outlets or household wiring.
In a series circuit, parts are connected one after another in a single loop. The same current flows through each part, and resistances add: R = R1 + R2. If one part breaks, the loop opens and everything stops.
In a parallel circuit, each part gets its own branch between the same two points. Every branch has the same voltage across it, and the branch currents add up to the total. Because charge has more than one path, the total (equivalent) resistance is lower than any single branch. For two resistors in parallel:
R = (R1 × R2) ÷ (R1 + R2)
Two equal resistors in parallel give exactly half of one. The lights in a house are wired in parallel, which is why switching off one lamp doesn't turn off the rest.
With a teacher or adult supervising, use a holder with two AA batteries (3 V), an LED with a resistor in series, and short clip leads. Leave a gap in the loop and bridge it with a paper clip, a coin, an eraser, a plastic spoon. Which ones light the LED? Sort them into conductors and insulators, and draw the circuit. Never touch a wire straight across the battery holder.
Code is just instructions. The hard part isn't typing them; it's making sure they do exactly what you meant, every time, including the cases you didn't think of.
You don't have to become a software engineer to use code. Today almost every engineering field relies on it in three big ways:
Whatever field you choose from Lesson 2, a little coding will make you a stronger engineer.
An algorithm is a set of step-by-step instructions for solving a problem. A recipe is an algorithm. A computer follows its instructions exactly, with no common sense to fill in gaps, so every step has to be clear.
Almost every algorithm is built from three structures:
Before writing real code, engineers often write pseudocode: plain-language steps that look a bit like code but don't follow any programming language's rules. Here's pseudocode for a fan that cools a small greenhouse:
temperature ≥ 28 °C, turn the fan on.It uses all three structures. Once the logic is right, turning it into real code, in a free block-based coding tool or a text language, is much easier.
Many engineering projects follow the same pattern: input → processing → output.
Sensors also collect data. Single readings are noisy, so engineers usually take several and find the average (mean): add them up and divide by how many there are. Greenhouse readings of 21, 23, 22, 24 and 20 °C add up to 110, and 110 ÷ 5 = 22 °C.
Watch for readings that don't fit. If the sensor sat in direct sun for a moment and read 55 °C, the average of all six readings jumps to 165 ÷ 6 = 27.5 °C, even though the room never got that warm. Look for patterns, too: a graph with time along the bottom and the reading up the side makes trends easy to spot, like soil slowly drying over a week or a sudden spike that points to a faulty reading.
Testing code is the "test" step of the design process. You write test cases: specific inputs, each with the expected result you work out before running anything. Then you run the program and record the actual result. If they match, the test passes. If not, you've found a bug, and now you can fix it.
Don't just test typical values. Bugs love to hide at the boundaries, so include edge cases: values exactly at a limit, just above and just below it, and the smallest and largest values the sensor can give.
Debugging is finding and fixing bugs, and it works best as a calm, step-by-step process:
This is iteration, the same loop as the design process from Lesson 1: define the problem, plan, build, test, improve, and repeat. Code is rarely right the first time, even for professionals.
Version history means saving numbered versions with a short note on what changed, so you can go back if a change makes things worse; many coding tools do this for you. Documentation means comments in your code and notes that explain what it does and why, so a teammate, or you in three months, can understand it.
Write pseudocode for a simple rule, like "if it's 5 °C or colder outside, remind me to wear a jacket." Make a test table with five readings, at least two of them edge cases, and fill in the expected results. Then ask a friend or family member to be the computer: they follow your steps exactly as written for each reading. Did any actual result surprise you?
And that's the end of Engineering Foundations. You've learned the design process, explored engineering fields and careers, measured and estimated, looked at forces and structures, built an understanding of circuits, and now tested code. Engineers don't get everything right the first time; they test, learn and improve. You can do that too, so go build something.
Engineering Foundations: How Things Get Designed and Built: pass all 6 lesson quizzes to earn a certificate of completion with your name on it.
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Every calculator from the courses in one place. Change any number and the results update as you type.
How far a measurement is from the accepted value. Learn it in lesson 3 →
Percent error = |measured − accepted| ÷ accepted × 100. Use the same unit for both values.
The effort a lever needs, and its mechanical advantage. Learn it in lesson 4 →
An ideal lever with no friction: load × load distance = effort × effort distance. Any units work if both distances use the same one.
Current and power from voltage and resistance. Learn it in lesson 5 →
I = V ÷ R and P = V × I. For experiments, stick to small batteries (about 1.5–9 V): never wall outlets or household wiring.
Every key term from every course, A to Z, with the lesson it comes from.