Why does my paper plane land somewhere new each time?

Feel the smooth paper plane between your fingers, then whoosh! You throw it across the room, and it lands by the sofa. You throw it again, and this time it lands near the door.

You tried to throw it the very same way. So why does your paper plane land somewhere new each time? Let's find out together.

When you let go, your throw gives the plane its speed. Air pushes up under its wide wings, so it glides instead of dropping straight down. Bit by bit the plane slows, and then it floats down to the floor.

Your hand gives that push, and no hand throws exactly the same way twice. One throw comes out faster, so the plane glides farther. Another comes out slower, and the plane lands closer to you.

Your hand also tips the nose of the plane. The angle, which means how far the nose points up or down, changes with each throw too. Point the nose high, and the plane climbs, slows and drops. Point it low, and it dives to the floor quickly.

Now think about how light your plane is. A sheet of paper weighs almost nothing, so the smallest push can move it off its path. Even when nobody touches the plane, something in the room can push it. What do you think it might be?

It is the air itself! Air in a room keeps moving, from an open window, a swinging door or a warm heater. A draft, which means a stream of moving air, can be too gentle for you to feel, yet it nudges a light paper plane left or right, up or down.

Drafts swirl and shift from one moment to the next. The air your plane meets on one flight is not the same air it meets on the next flight. So every flight gets nudged in its own new way.

Small changes grow bigger along the way. A slightly different angle at your hand, and a draft pushing in the middle of the flight, carry the plane farther and farther off its old path. By the time it lands, it has reached a brand new spot.

Angle and draft. Your paper plane lands somewhere new each time because your hand throws it with a slightly different speed and angle, and drafts nudge the light paper along a new path.

Sweet dreams, little pilot, and may your next paper plane glide somewhere wonderful.