If there was one class I hated in public school, it was science class (and gym, math and grade 8 music, too). Every year would come the dreaded Science Fair and I knew I didn’t have a fair shot at it. The geeks would surely take the prize. Jocks would be clever in presentation, and pretty girls would smile and get bonus points, no matter how stupid their conclusions. My pals and I would work on a hypothesis that was usually something like, “how will learning this actually impact my future career?” It won’t. Case closed.
I know, negative attitude, right? But do you remember science class in public school? Boring. There was no World Wide Web for research, no cool videos, like cameras inside the human body so we could see how our innards work and get all grossed out by blood and guts, no live tornado destruction footage in real time, or explosive experiments. There certainly was no Discovery Channel. Science in my day wasn’t fun. Class was textbook lessons occasionally interrupted with crackly film footage of old NFB work from a projector, with a funny flute music introduction. Once a year, we got a field trip to a wetland and then science was fun. It was cool to find tadpoles, but leeches; not cool.
As a mom, science is part of my life. It might not be relevant to my career, but if you saw the inside of my fridge, you’d see that occasionally I grow science experiments without even trying. If you saw me mixing environmentally friendly household cleaners, you would understand why I should never, ever handle explosive materials. Botany and photosynthesis were lessons not lost on me, but very much lost on my houseplants. Diapers, vomit, boo-boos and snail collections in laundered coat pockets all equal science experiments.
The learning never stops. It turns out that when you are a parent you get to relive public school without actually having to attend. It’s called homework – your child’s homework. Don’t let their name on that sheet fool you. The determination of whether your child passes or fails a project still falls squarely on your shoulders. When the Science Fair topics came home with my daughter, I nearly fainted.
For reasons I am not sure I understand, my daughter asked me for guidance on this project. I didn’t think to pawn her request off on her father, the far more capable Carpenter. No, I did that ridiculous Super Mommy thing. I tried to over-achieve. The topic was life cycle. My bright idea? Sea Monkeys.
Oh shush. I was under pressure. It seemed like a fabulous, no-fail idea. Create life from scratch, nurture it, watch it grow. Later mysteriously dump tank into the garden. Life cycle complete. Final grade: A+.
Word to the wise, don’t use Centre Wellington tap water. There is enough chlorine in there to start a mutant breed of creatures, but not Sea Monkeys. They died. Experiment failed. Daughter emotionally distressed. Mother reliving grade 7 Science Fair fiasco.
Then it hit me. A failed experiment was still a success. That’s what science is all about. We didn’t fail. We learned. And what did we learn? The Carpenter should do the children’s homework. And water the plants.