Science Marches Forward.
When I was a kid I thought I was headed for a career in the sciences. I was making new discoveries every single day.
Unfortunately, discovering the melting point of crayons didn’t lead to a cure for the common cold, or a renewable energy source to power Barbie’s dream house appliances. Of course, just because I opted out of the sciences as a career doesn’t mean I don’t still dabble as an amateur.
For example, I’ve discovered two fundamental laws governing socks. First, socks are extremely resistant to pairing. The repulsive force is particularly strong in the morning before school. I believe the repulsive force is derived from a combination of laundry detergent and water.
Second, socks are edible. At least, that’s my theory as to why they continue to disappear at such an alarming rate. Someone, or something, is eating them. And apparently only one of the pair is actually edible, explaining the huge bag of inedible orphan socks in the closet.
I’ve also learned something absolutely fascinating about schoolwork that comes home for admiration. It’s ALIVE!
Consider the evidence. Reams and reams of paper with adorable drawings, attempts at cursive, and math drills overwhelm all attempts to contain them. Boxes quickly overflow and any attempt to cull the pile will set off internal alarms with the child involved who will rush over, protesting wildly that their work should be retained until they complete their doctorate in multiplication tables. Clearly those pieces of paper have the power to send out some sort of distress signal. That’s a sign of life in my book. (I’m proposing the scientific term ‘paperous swampous’ for this new life form .)
These days Mireya has taken on the mantle of science officer. We were off on a trip when she explained to me how magnetism works.
“There’s this bar in the middle of the earth, Mommy.”
“A bar? Like a chocolate bar?”
“No!” she laughed at her poor Mommy, who had seemed so much smarter before she herself started first grade and learned everything. “It’s like a ruler. It’s made of metal.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And it has this big letter ‘N’ on it. And that’s how we know which way is North. Just look for the N.”
Next she’ll be working on cold fusion. We’ll get Barbie’s refrigerator running in no time.
The Octopus Teacher, Part 3. (aka All Good Things Must Come to An End.)
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I have felt incredibly lucky that my friend and I have been able to
experience our own “Octopus Teacher”.
Much to our great surprise, on one of our sn...
2 years ago