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Project
As a teacher I was accustomed to students
asking “When will I ever use this?” I
even asked the same question as a fifth grader.
“Miss West, why do I have to learn the parts of an atom? I am never going to need this.” “You’ll thank me one day young lady, now
finish the project.” And I silently
thought “Not in a million years.”
I reluctantly went back to punching holes in
ping pong balls, then gluing them onto wire and securing the wire onto the
bulletin board. My protons and neutrons
were colored cotton balls glued to the center creating the nucleus. It was an impressive three dimensional
representation of an atom on a three by twelve foot bulletin board complete
with labels and assorted blurbs of atomic trivia. When the project was finished and I received
my A, I filed away the experience in a remote part of my brain reserved for
totally useless information and experiences.
Fast forward through 39 years of teaching, bringing
up six children through high school and college, and never once having to
access that part of my brain. ..until this past weekend. The thirteen-year-old came home and announced
“I have to do a project over the atom.”
They say a traumatic experience will cause
your life to flash before your eyes in an instant. In this case, and at my age, it took about
ten minutes to rewind to Miss West’s fifth grade science class. “Ok,” I said shakily, “when is it due?” “I don’t know.” “Well, where are the instructions?” Blank stare.
“The sheet that has the requirements?”
Continued blank stare.
Now any of you who have reared children to
adulthood know of what I speak.
Somewhere in the midst of junior high and hormone high, the future
Presidents of the United States turn into brainless-I-can’t-remember-any-thing-except-the
hottest-300-rock-stars-and-the-lyrics-to-every-song-they-ever-wrote person
thing.
I located the instructions in the third trash
can I went through. Hey, I couldn’t have
the “Presidential Memoirs” revealing how
I allowed the potential President of the United States to fail 8th
grade science due to a hormonal imbalance of the brain could I?
Like an amnesia victim, there were bits and
pieces flashing through forgotten recesses of my brain. Proton?
Neutron? Moron? What kind of moron wants you to build a 3ft
by 12 foot atom? No wait, wrong century,
right brain cavity. Thanks to Google and
copious cups of coffee, the project began to take shape in my brain. No bulletin board this time. A simple Aluminum atom, atomic number 13 on
the Periodic Table of Elements made out of Rice Kirspies and jelly beans! Perfect.
I gathered the supplies while the teenager, BeatsSolo2 clamped and
booming in her ears, googled the information for her report.
“Let’s use food coloring to differentiate the
valance. Black jelly beans can be the electrons
and you choose 13 proton jelly beans and 14 different colored jelly beans for
the neutrons in the center.”
“Pretty cool.
An edible science project.”
The Rice Krispy aluminum atom model made it
to school unscathed and uneaten and on time.
When the thirteen-year-old returned I asked how it went.
“Good.
I made a 95. Everybody liked my project.
They were starving. How do you
know so much about atoms, Mom? ”
“You’d be surprised!”
Ok, and it didn't take a million years, only 61...and thank you, Miss West.
Ok, and it didn't take a million years, only 61...and thank you, Miss West.
4 comments:
Thank YOU, Ms. Worsham. Imagine when that same realization dawns upon your eighth grader. Maybe it won't take 61 years for her. For now, though, you can use this experience as a hammer whenever she asks "Why do I need to know that?" "To save your kids' bacon, that's why."
Great job, Jody. You always come through. I'd probably still be staring at the tween with a blank look on my face.
Wow, I'm impressed! I am so glad I never had recreate a childhood science project. That subject was never my favorite and I can remember the fear I had every time I entered the classroom. I was never wired that way.
Amen to that, Don
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