Doctor in the Dark...
There was a batch of young 'uns from some huge summer program from a town close by. They had brought a group of 4th through 8th grade kids last week, and this week was a the 1st through 3rd grade ones. They had reserved space for "48 children and 35 adults". With 80 seats in the Planetarium (and one is broken!), that's too much. I figured that they wouldn't bring everyone.
I was wrong.
Apparently they are kids with some special needs. I really am not a child development professional, so I can't even hint at what it would be, but the ratio of children to adults itself indicates that they need some additional supervision. The kids were excited, but they were really pretty good.
As people were coming in I heard part of a conversation between two adults...
"...don't worry, I brought the flashlight."
Whoa!! WHOA!! No flashlights in the dark room, please!
I stopped her and asked if she had just mentioned something about a "flashlight". She told me that she had. I asked her to please not use the flashlight during the program.
"But," she said, and pointed to the child she had in tow, "he needs to be medicated."
"During the show?!" I blurted back.
"Yep," she told me.
"Can't you do it now? Or right after?" I asked.
"Nope."
"What kind of medication is that important?" I was incredulous, and ended up asking a kind of invasive question.
"Well, uh..." she obviously didn't want to answer.
I let her off the hook, and told her to not worry about it, and I was just being overly curious. AND I WAS CURIOUS! I mean, was it an injection? Was she going to tie off this kid's bicep and whip out a hypo and stick him right in the middle of the show?
On the way out she said, "See! I did it and you didn't even notice!" She was very friendly - she was obviously not trying to be sarcastic or snotty.
And I didn't notice. I'm pretty sure it was the only time medication has been delivered during a program since I've been here... BUT, she was right. I didn't notice. It could happen all the time! Oh goody, something else to be paranoid about...
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
A Little Too Little...
Sometimes they just bring in kids that are way too small to be here. Like today, for example... Actually this group was a day care center that is actually located on campus. They're very nice people, and very appreciative (they should be, they get a free show!!), but the kids are way too small to be crawling around in the dark for an hour. Even though they came with their parents, it's just not the place for them. I can talk to kids, but they should at least be able to read when they come in. I can't relate to three year olds.
There was one little girl who said, "What is that?!" every time a new picture went up. Actually that's not really true -- it was more like half baby talk: "What dat?!" If she can't accurately construct a three word question, I really don't think she's getting the concept of constellations and planets...
Another girl who was about the same age. I don't think she was getting it, either, since every picture of a planet I put up got the following comment: "It's the moon, mommy!" Didn't matter how big or small, what color it was -- every one had the same diagnosis: "It's the moon, mommy!"
At the end, when I mentioned the rotation of the Earth and did the classic Planetarium spinning sky, I had one boy say, "Lookit, mommy! Go round! Go round!"
I really can't step it down any lower than I have right now. I make the shows pretty simplistic for the little kids. I am afraid that I am slowly slipping simpler and simpler, though.
I must arrest my deterioration! Help!
If I ever get to the point where I show them Leo and the only thing I can do is ask, "What sound does a lion make?", please kill me.
Sometimes they just bring in kids that are way too small to be here. Like today, for example... Actually this group was a day care center that is actually located on campus. They're very nice people, and very appreciative (they should be, they get a free show!!), but the kids are way too small to be crawling around in the dark for an hour. Even though they came with their parents, it's just not the place for them. I can talk to kids, but they should at least be able to read when they come in. I can't relate to three year olds.
There was one little girl who said, "What is that?!" every time a new picture went up. Actually that's not really true -- it was more like half baby talk: "What dat?!" If she can't accurately construct a three word question, I really don't think she's getting the concept of constellations and planets...
Another girl who was about the same age. I don't think she was getting it, either, since every picture of a planet I put up got the following comment: "It's the moon, mommy!" Didn't matter how big or small, what color it was -- every one had the same diagnosis: "It's the moon, mommy!"
At the end, when I mentioned the rotation of the Earth and did the classic Planetarium spinning sky, I had one boy say, "Lookit, mommy! Go round! Go round!"
I really can't step it down any lower than I have right now. I make the shows pretty simplistic for the little kids. I am afraid that I am slowly slipping simpler and simpler, though.
I must arrest my deterioration! Help!
If I ever get to the point where I show them Leo and the only thing I can do is ask, "What sound does a lion make?", please kill me.
Seeing is Believing...
Last Friday I had a slew of little demons. They claimed to be the "YMCA X-Guides". They said X-Guides when they made the reservation, and that's what is on the form. I didn't realize that the 'Y' had an X-Guides program... I thought it was just the Guides. Maybe they got kicked out -- I wouldn't be surprised. These kids were hellish.
Let me just give you one example -- (though this is probably at least 1/2 my fault) --
As the lights come down it gets darker. (That statement wins today's "State the Obvious" contest. Sorry.) As it was getting darker one kid yelled out, "Is this as dark as it gets?!"
It wasn't even close. They could see about two dozen stars. It was hardly twilight. In an effort to impress him I said, "Can you see me?"
"Yes," he told me.
I leaned forward, and with wide spooky eyes I told him "Then it is going to get darker." It actually DOES get that dark.
Five seconds later, while I was trying to say something about the moon, "I can still see you!" he yells out.
"Right," I told him, "it gets darker."
I go back into my moon discussion. For about another eight seconds...
"I can still see you!" he yells out once again.
"OK," I told him. "It will just get real dark. You don't have to keep telling me."
"But I can still see you," he told me.
"I realize that. So it will get darker. Just watch. You'll see."
"OK," he said, "but I can still see you."
I chose to let him have the last word.
Finally it got to full dark. They were impressed, of course... and Mr. I Can See You finally gave up.
Until the first slide when up. A slide creates some ambient light in the dome, of course. As soon as it went up he yells out, "I can see you!"
*-sigh-*
I started to say something, but knew that it would, at the very least, do no good at all, and, at worst, give him the attention he was seeking and cause him to do it more.
I don't know if I made the right decision, because every time a slide went on, for the rest of the show, he yelled, just a little louder than the time before: "I can see you!"
I managed to somehow refrain from clawing his eyes out of his head just to make it so he wouldn't say it again.
Last Friday I had a slew of little demons. They claimed to be the "YMCA X-Guides". They said X-Guides when they made the reservation, and that's what is on the form. I didn't realize that the 'Y' had an X-Guides program... I thought it was just the Guides. Maybe they got kicked out -- I wouldn't be surprised. These kids were hellish.
Let me just give you one example -- (though this is probably at least 1/2 my fault) --
As the lights come down it gets darker. (That statement wins today's "State the Obvious" contest. Sorry.) As it was getting darker one kid yelled out, "Is this as dark as it gets?!"
It wasn't even close. They could see about two dozen stars. It was hardly twilight. In an effort to impress him I said, "Can you see me?"
"Yes," he told me.
I leaned forward, and with wide spooky eyes I told him "Then it is going to get darker." It actually DOES get that dark.
Five seconds later, while I was trying to say something about the moon, "I can still see you!" he yells out.
"Right," I told him, "it gets darker."
I go back into my moon discussion. For about another eight seconds...
"I can still see you!" he yells out once again.
"OK," I told him. "It will just get real dark. You don't have to keep telling me."
"But I can still see you," he told me.
"I realize that. So it will get darker. Just watch. You'll see."
"OK," he said, "but I can still see you."
I chose to let him have the last word.
Finally it got to full dark. They were impressed, of course... and Mr. I Can See You finally gave up.
Until the first slide when up. A slide creates some ambient light in the dome, of course. As soon as it went up he yells out, "I can see you!"
*-sigh-*
I started to say something, but knew that it would, at the very least, do no good at all, and, at worst, give him the attention he was seeking and cause him to do it more.
I don't know if I made the right decision, because every time a slide went on, for the rest of the show, he yelled, just a little louder than the time before: "I can see you!"
I managed to somehow refrain from clawing his eyes out of his head just to make it so he wouldn't say it again.
Thursday, July 24, 2003
The Nightmare Continues...
If you haven't read the Blog below this one, please do so now.... I'll wait....
...OK? Let's continue.
I had two voice mail messages when I came in today, both from the coordinator of yesterday's hellspawn show. This first one, in a super-friendly voice:
"Hi, Mr. Astronomy Guy, this is the person who coordinated the show from the Montessori school. We're running a little late, and it looks like there's going to have to be two shows. Let me know if that's a problem!"
So she TOLD the other group that they would be able to have a show. AND the bus driver didn't forget some kids, did he!! She knew about it! Oof. She just called up after the time I am supposed to be in the dome, there's no way I could have gotten that message before the show, and told me there will be another show. They must cultivate those Clydesdale-balls over there.
Message number two:
"Hi, Mr. Astronomy Guy, this is the person who coordinated the show from the Montessori school. One of the teachers told me that we overpaid. I just wanted to coordinate a refund. And I covered the price of the extra kids so that would go right to me, not to the school. Please call me back so we can work that out."
I just did they math... THEY UNDERPAID!!! They didn't even pay for 3 of the chaperones!! Basically, when she called and asked if she could bring free adults, and I told her "NO!", SHE JUST IGNORED ME AND DID IT ANYWAY!!! And now is asking for even more money back.
And I have no idea how she thought they could possibly overpay, and that she covered the extra cost, because they brought seperate checks for every single kid!! I have a stack of 55 four-dollar checks here.
Something in my brain has popped once again.
If you haven't read the Blog below this one, please do so now.... I'll wait....
...OK? Let's continue.
I had two voice mail messages when I came in today, both from the coordinator of yesterday's hellspawn show. This first one, in a super-friendly voice:
"Hi, Mr. Astronomy Guy, this is the person who coordinated the show from the Montessori school. We're running a little late, and it looks like there's going to have to be two shows. Let me know if that's a problem!"
So she TOLD the other group that they would be able to have a show. AND the bus driver didn't forget some kids, did he!! She knew about it! Oof. She just called up after the time I am supposed to be in the dome, there's no way I could have gotten that message before the show, and told me there will be another show. They must cultivate those Clydesdale-balls over there.
Message number two:
"Hi, Mr. Astronomy Guy, this is the person who coordinated the show from the Montessori school. One of the teachers told me that we overpaid. I just wanted to coordinate a refund. And I covered the price of the extra kids so that would go right to me, not to the school. Please call me back so we can work that out."
I just did they math... THEY UNDERPAID!!! They didn't even pay for 3 of the chaperones!! Basically, when she called and asked if she could bring free adults, and I told her "NO!", SHE JUST IGNORED ME AND DID IT ANYWAY!!! And now is asking for even more money back.
And I have no idea how she thought they could possibly overpay, and that she covered the extra cost, because they brought seperate checks for every single kid!! I have a stack of 55 four-dollar checks here.
Something in my brain has popped once again.
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
And the Award for Worst Group Ever Goes to...
Today I had a group that has reinvented the term "horrible".
It actually starts a couple days ago...
[imagine the little cliche movie flashback waviness here]
...when the coordinator for this group -- by the way, it was a Montessori school, best of the best! -- had a request. She asked about prices -- we charge per kid, plus give a few chaperones free. Bring more adults, and you have to pay for them. This woman asked if the rest of the adults could come for free. I told her no, the policy was "up to 5 free, the rest pay." She asked if I could make an exception. I told that I could not, and that it actually had nothing to do with me. I'm the Astronomer... it's not a private business. The college decides what we charge, and visitors just have pay it. Geez, it's only a couple of dollars, we basically give the show away! She seemed pissed off that she couldn't bring her people in for free.
Now let's get back to today...
The group showed up 20 minutes late, of course. They always show up late. We really have to make a policy of 'if you're more than 5 minutes late (they're supposed to be 10 minutes early!), you're show is cancelled. Period.' I don't know how well that will fly, since we will lose 93% of our business.
So they came meandering down the hill, stopping every 20 feet for some unknown reason. I was down by the entrance beckoning them frantically to hurry up. They basically just laughed at the goofy idiot wagging his arms around. They eventually got to the entrance. An apology of any sort? NO. Any recognition of ANY kind that they are late, or remorse or embarassment of that fact? OF COURSE NOT!
Here's what they tell me: "Hi! We're from the Montessori school!"
I just stood there incredulously. The sarcasm demon in my brain went ape: Really. I had no idea. Huh. You've scheduled a Planetarium program. I've been standing out here for a half an hour. I've been flailing my arms at you to come down here like I was a guy on a runway waving in a 747. AND YOU ALL HAVE MATCHING SHIRTS THAT HAVE THE NAME AND LOGO OF YOUR SCHOOL ON THEM! Thank you for telling me who you were, because I was clueless up until then.
I stopped the kindergartren-age group there and did the same thing I always do... I gave them this friendly speech:
"Hello! We're going to go right in, but before we do I want to remind you that we are going into a school. School is currently in session, and there's classes going on inside. In fact, there's one right by the Planetarium. SO, while were in the hallways, what do you think I'm going to ask you to do....?"
Usually, they say "We should be quiet," or hold a finger in front of their mouths and say, "Shhh..."
Not this group! One of the five year olds, who was currently holding the hand of teacher, yelled out, "SHUT UP, MISTER!" The teacher did nothing! NOTHING! She just sat there grinning like she had just had a comforting meal! Of course, the class thought this was funny, and I had a horde of 5-year olds screaming, "YEAH! Shut up, Mister! Shut up, Mister!"
Well, they finally calmed down. I asked them to just be quiet, and brought them into the hallway towards they Planetarium. They chattered away at full volume, no one, be they child or adult, expressed any concern for any other human being on the planet. I asked them to go against the wall on the right side of the hallway, so one of the teachers said, "OK" and brought them right down the middle, filling the entire hall, blocking the students trying to walk in the hallway, and making it impossible for me to open the door to let them in.
I finally managed to shove the horde off to one side enough that I could open the door.
They went in, sat down, and immediately started talking at the top of their lungs. I waited for them to calm down a little. Kids are always excited when they first come in, but every other group I have ever had settles down after a few seconds. Two minutes, tops. After five minutes, this group was still in the middle of a recess-style frenzy. The adults didn't seem to care. I decided to just try to get their attention, and tried screaming over them... it worked, a little.
They were quiet for my introduction, and then I started to bring the lights down, and they were just horrible. HORRIBLE. They were all talking together as loud as they could. They had absolutely NO desire to listen to anything I had to say. Again, the chaperones were silent. Or, in a couple cases, talking to the kids at the same volume.
WAIT A MINUTE!! I see now why the organizer didn't want to have to pay for the adults! Because they are worthless!! It all makes sense.
I gave up. I just turned the lights back on. I told them that the show wouldn't happen unless they listened. I've done that once, or maybe twice, before, but it was never this bad. And it was never this age group (5 years old). They seemed to settle down a little bit then. So I proceeded to turn the lights back off. As I was describing some stuff, the lights faded away into a dark night sky, and I had to stop speaking because one girl started screaming. Actually it would be more accurately described as shrieking. It was an incredible sound. My backbone was jelly -- I felt like I was in the middle of a horror movie. It was, without a doubt, the first time I have ever heard an actual bloodcurdling scream. And in went on and on.... for at least a full minute. At this point, I'm not saying anything, there's just screaming.
I said, "I guess I'll go see what the matter is!" My composure was completely gone. I have been annoyed at shows before, but I still keep on my 'game face'. It's the public, and sometimes they get annoying, but I can still pretend to be happy Mr. Astronomy Guy. Not this time.
I made my way over to the seat next to her and asked what was wrong. She just screamed louder. I tried to soothe her in some fashion, but I am not good at those sorts of things. This girl seriously sounded like she was being skinned. And NO ADULT is making any moves to help her out.
"Is there a responsible adult in here??" I yelled. Remember, this is what is happening instead of a show. The kids started talking to each other again. Some have decided to start going "OOOOoooOOOOO!" like ghosts, which is just making the girl scream louder.
No answer. Perhaps no one can hear me over the squeals of terror.
"ANY adults?? Is there any adult still in the room?" NO ANSWER! I thought that perhaps they had left. Now I'm panicking -- maybe it's a nightmare! Maybe I'll wake up! I figured I'd try once more...
"A TEACHER?? SOMEBODY??"
"I'm a teacher," a meek voice about 3 seats away replies.
"Did you notice the child who sounds like she is being murdered?? Can you come help?!?!" I swear that is exactly what I said.
"Oh," she said, "OK."
Ohmigod.
She came over and the screaming was muffled. I thought that she might have been actually smothering the girl, but I really wasn't about to try to figure that out. I was deep enough in nightmare by that point.
I muddled through the rest of the show. The kids screamed throughout. About one-fourth of the show consisted of me putting up a slide, and thirty 5-years-olds just screamed at the top of their lungs things they thought they were seeing.
As the lights were coming up, one of the adults came to me with a girl in tow...
"She. Go. Wet."
This woman obviously had a very slight grasp of the English language. (I'm not picking on the woman, I'm just describing what she said, because it just was the crap icing on the mud pie that was the rest of the afternoon.)
"She wet herself?!" I asked. It only made sense compared to the rest of the day that I would actually have urine spilled in the Planetarium today.
"No!" she told me, "Soon!"
Whew. "OH!" I said, "You need to go to the bathroom!"
"Yes! Now!" she said. I gave them directions that I can't be positively certain she understood. They left the room, and seemed to veer in the right direction.
They returned a few minutes later and the same woman came up to me and said, "Outside. Rest."
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Us. Rest. Outside," she cryptically told me.
"Did you guys get a rest outside?" I asked her. I wondered why I would care about such a thing.
She shook her head and repeated: "Us. Rest. Outside."
"I'm not sure what you are saying," I told her.
"Us!" she said, frantically pawing at the emblem on her shirt.
"Your school?" I asked.
She nodded excitedly. "Rest!" she told me.
"The rest of the school?" I asked.
She nodded again, with even more fervor than before.
"Outside!" She pumped her pointed finger to the door.
"The rest of your school is outside?" I asked.
She nodded satisfactorily.
"I don't think so," I said, "everyone is still in here. No one else has left yet." She was obviously confused, I thought.
"NO NO!" she said. "Us! Rest! Outside!"
I figured I'd better go check. Sure enough, on the floor outside was 17 kids sitting patiently. All with the same shirts. None of whom were in the previous show.
"Are you from the same school?" I asked viciously.
"Yes," the teacher told me.
OK, I am still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that almost 20 kids were missing, and the other group didn't think it was important enough to mention.
"What are you doing out here?" I asked.
"The bus forgot us."
At this point I physically felt something snap in my brain. I don't know if it was a dendrite or a nerve or a gland, but I actually had some sort of *-Pop!-* in my skull. I felt it, I swear. My brain suffered a Syntax Error. Or perhaps a Null Pointer Exception. Or a 404 Page Not Found Error. Something like that. (Dang, I'm geeky.)
"When did you get here?" I managed to sputter out.
"About five minutes ago."
"But the show is over," I told her.
"Well," she told me, "you'll have to do a show for us. There's only 17 kids."
What does that even mean? It doesn't matter if there are eight or eighty, it's another show! I'm DONE! I've been in there all day! I'm starving! I had no breakfast, nor lunch, and it's almost 2:00, and I just had the demonspawn from hell group, and I'm cranky!
"No, really," I told her, "that was the last program. And it got started late, and we just got out late."
"Well, you'll do a condensed show then."
This woman had the balls of a Clydesdale! No "sorry", no "please", no indication of any normal, natural human emotion of any kind.
So what do I do in response? I do a show for them, of course. I just caved. I don't think I had the energy to do anything else. It was either that or vomit on their shoes, and my brain apparently decided it would be better to avoid the upchuck and do my job. (Not that I would have had anything to spew... my stomach was growling.)
And the show was a good one. It was chock full of information, had the kids engaged, and didn't skip a thing. I somehow gave them the full, happy, Mr. Astronomy Guy treatment.
I think it was just the urge I have to do something nice. And I don't need much in return. I don't get paid a lot, nor do I expect to. All I wanted was a "thanks". It didn't have to be a speech, though that would have been nice:
"Wow, Mr. Astronomy Guy, you whipped this right together, gave us a full show on zero notice, and really gave the kids and adults a treat. Thank you very much. Really, thanks."
I don't even need that much. Maybe just the last sentence. How about just "Thanks"?
I turned on the lights, summed up, and thanked them for visiting the Planetarium. The teacher scooped up her kids, swished them out the door and said, "OK. Bye."
Today I had a group that has reinvented the term "horrible".
It actually starts a couple days ago...
[imagine the little cliche movie flashback waviness here]
...when the coordinator for this group -- by the way, it was a Montessori school, best of the best! -- had a request. She asked about prices -- we charge per kid, plus give a few chaperones free. Bring more adults, and you have to pay for them. This woman asked if the rest of the adults could come for free. I told her no, the policy was "up to 5 free, the rest pay." She asked if I could make an exception. I told that I could not, and that it actually had nothing to do with me. I'm the Astronomer... it's not a private business. The college decides what we charge, and visitors just have pay it. Geez, it's only a couple of dollars, we basically give the show away! She seemed pissed off that she couldn't bring her people in for free.
Now let's get back to today...
The group showed up 20 minutes late, of course. They always show up late. We really have to make a policy of 'if you're more than 5 minutes late (they're supposed to be 10 minutes early!), you're show is cancelled. Period.' I don't know how well that will fly, since we will lose 93% of our business.
So they came meandering down the hill, stopping every 20 feet for some unknown reason. I was down by the entrance beckoning them frantically to hurry up. They basically just laughed at the goofy idiot wagging his arms around. They eventually got to the entrance. An apology of any sort? NO. Any recognition of ANY kind that they are late, or remorse or embarassment of that fact? OF COURSE NOT!
Here's what they tell me: "Hi! We're from the Montessori school!"
I just stood there incredulously. The sarcasm demon in my brain went ape: Really. I had no idea. Huh. You've scheduled a Planetarium program. I've been standing out here for a half an hour. I've been flailing my arms at you to come down here like I was a guy on a runway waving in a 747. AND YOU ALL HAVE MATCHING SHIRTS THAT HAVE THE NAME AND LOGO OF YOUR SCHOOL ON THEM! Thank you for telling me who you were, because I was clueless up until then.
I stopped the kindergartren-age group there and did the same thing I always do... I gave them this friendly speech:
"Hello! We're going to go right in, but before we do I want to remind you that we are going into a school. School is currently in session, and there's classes going on inside. In fact, there's one right by the Planetarium. SO, while were in the hallways, what do you think I'm going to ask you to do....?"
Usually, they say "We should be quiet," or hold a finger in front of their mouths and say, "Shhh..."
Not this group! One of the five year olds, who was currently holding the hand of teacher, yelled out, "SHUT UP, MISTER!" The teacher did nothing! NOTHING! She just sat there grinning like she had just had a comforting meal! Of course, the class thought this was funny, and I had a horde of 5-year olds screaming, "YEAH! Shut up, Mister! Shut up, Mister!"
Well, they finally calmed down. I asked them to just be quiet, and brought them into the hallway towards they Planetarium. They chattered away at full volume, no one, be they child or adult, expressed any concern for any other human being on the planet. I asked them to go against the wall on the right side of the hallway, so one of the teachers said, "OK" and brought them right down the middle, filling the entire hall, blocking the students trying to walk in the hallway, and making it impossible for me to open the door to let them in.
I finally managed to shove the horde off to one side enough that I could open the door.
They went in, sat down, and immediately started talking at the top of their lungs. I waited for them to calm down a little. Kids are always excited when they first come in, but every other group I have ever had settles down after a few seconds. Two minutes, tops. After five minutes, this group was still in the middle of a recess-style frenzy. The adults didn't seem to care. I decided to just try to get their attention, and tried screaming over them... it worked, a little.
They were quiet for my introduction, and then I started to bring the lights down, and they were just horrible. HORRIBLE. They were all talking together as loud as they could. They had absolutely NO desire to listen to anything I had to say. Again, the chaperones were silent. Or, in a couple cases, talking to the kids at the same volume.
WAIT A MINUTE!! I see now why the organizer didn't want to have to pay for the adults! Because they are worthless!! It all makes sense.
I gave up. I just turned the lights back on. I told them that the show wouldn't happen unless they listened. I've done that once, or maybe twice, before, but it was never this bad. And it was never this age group (5 years old). They seemed to settle down a little bit then. So I proceeded to turn the lights back off. As I was describing some stuff, the lights faded away into a dark night sky, and I had to stop speaking because one girl started screaming. Actually it would be more accurately described as shrieking. It was an incredible sound. My backbone was jelly -- I felt like I was in the middle of a horror movie. It was, without a doubt, the first time I have ever heard an actual bloodcurdling scream. And in went on and on.... for at least a full minute. At this point, I'm not saying anything, there's just screaming.
I said, "I guess I'll go see what the matter is!" My composure was completely gone. I have been annoyed at shows before, but I still keep on my 'game face'. It's the public, and sometimes they get annoying, but I can still pretend to be happy Mr. Astronomy Guy. Not this time.
I made my way over to the seat next to her and asked what was wrong. She just screamed louder. I tried to soothe her in some fashion, but I am not good at those sorts of things. This girl seriously sounded like she was being skinned. And NO ADULT is making any moves to help her out.
"Is there a responsible adult in here??" I yelled. Remember, this is what is happening instead of a show. The kids started talking to each other again. Some have decided to start going "OOOOoooOOOOO!" like ghosts, which is just making the girl scream louder.
No answer. Perhaps no one can hear me over the squeals of terror.
"ANY adults?? Is there any adult still in the room?" NO ANSWER! I thought that perhaps they had left. Now I'm panicking -- maybe it's a nightmare! Maybe I'll wake up! I figured I'd try once more...
"A TEACHER?? SOMEBODY??"
"I'm a teacher," a meek voice about 3 seats away replies.
"Did you notice the child who sounds like she is being murdered?? Can you come help?!?!" I swear that is exactly what I said.
"Oh," she said, "OK."
Ohmigod.
She came over and the screaming was muffled. I thought that she might have been actually smothering the girl, but I really wasn't about to try to figure that out. I was deep enough in nightmare by that point.
I muddled through the rest of the show. The kids screamed throughout. About one-fourth of the show consisted of me putting up a slide, and thirty 5-years-olds just screamed at the top of their lungs things they thought they were seeing.
As the lights were coming up, one of the adults came to me with a girl in tow...
"She. Go. Wet."
This woman obviously had a very slight grasp of the English language. (I'm not picking on the woman, I'm just describing what she said, because it just was the crap icing on the mud pie that was the rest of the afternoon.)
"She wet herself?!" I asked. It only made sense compared to the rest of the day that I would actually have urine spilled in the Planetarium today.
"No!" she told me, "Soon!"
Whew. "OH!" I said, "You need to go to the bathroom!"
"Yes! Now!" she said. I gave them directions that I can't be positively certain she understood. They left the room, and seemed to veer in the right direction.
They returned a few minutes later and the same woman came up to me and said, "Outside. Rest."
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Us. Rest. Outside," she cryptically told me.
"Did you guys get a rest outside?" I asked her. I wondered why I would care about such a thing.
She shook her head and repeated: "Us. Rest. Outside."
"I'm not sure what you are saying," I told her.
"Us!" she said, frantically pawing at the emblem on her shirt.
"Your school?" I asked.
She nodded excitedly. "Rest!" she told me.
"The rest of the school?" I asked.
She nodded again, with even more fervor than before.
"Outside!" She pumped her pointed finger to the door.
"The rest of your school is outside?" I asked.
She nodded satisfactorily.
"I don't think so," I said, "everyone is still in here. No one else has left yet." She was obviously confused, I thought.
"NO NO!" she said. "Us! Rest! Outside!"
I figured I'd better go check. Sure enough, on the floor outside was 17 kids sitting patiently. All with the same shirts. None of whom were in the previous show.
"Are you from the same school?" I asked viciously.
"Yes," the teacher told me.
OK, I am still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that almost 20 kids were missing, and the other group didn't think it was important enough to mention.
"What are you doing out here?" I asked.
"The bus forgot us."
At this point I physically felt something snap in my brain. I don't know if it was a dendrite or a nerve or a gland, but I actually had some sort of *-Pop!-* in my skull. I felt it, I swear. My brain suffered a Syntax Error. Or perhaps a Null Pointer Exception. Or a 404 Page Not Found Error. Something like that. (Dang, I'm geeky.)
"When did you get here?" I managed to sputter out.
"About five minutes ago."
"But the show is over," I told her.
"Well," she told me, "you'll have to do a show for us. There's only 17 kids."
What does that even mean? It doesn't matter if there are eight or eighty, it's another show! I'm DONE! I've been in there all day! I'm starving! I had no breakfast, nor lunch, and it's almost 2:00, and I just had the demonspawn from hell group, and I'm cranky!
"No, really," I told her, "that was the last program. And it got started late, and we just got out late."
"Well, you'll do a condensed show then."
This woman had the balls of a Clydesdale! No "sorry", no "please", no indication of any normal, natural human emotion of any kind.
So what do I do in response? I do a show for them, of course. I just caved. I don't think I had the energy to do anything else. It was either that or vomit on their shoes, and my brain apparently decided it would be better to avoid the upchuck and do my job. (Not that I would have had anything to spew... my stomach was growling.)
And the show was a good one. It was chock full of information, had the kids engaged, and didn't skip a thing. I somehow gave them the full, happy, Mr. Astronomy Guy treatment.
I think it was just the urge I have to do something nice. And I don't need much in return. I don't get paid a lot, nor do I expect to. All I wanted was a "thanks". It didn't have to be a speech, though that would have been nice:
"Wow, Mr. Astronomy Guy, you whipped this right together, gave us a full show on zero notice, and really gave the kids and adults a treat. Thank you very much. Really, thanks."
I don't even need that much. Maybe just the last sentence. How about just "Thanks"?
I turned on the lights, summed up, and thanked them for visiting the Planetarium. The teacher scooped up her kids, swished them out the door and said, "OK. Bye."
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
And So it is Written
Nothing major going on here -- I just wanted to share with you a couple of the show descriptions people have sent me.
Just to give you the appropriate background, when one makes a reservation, one gets a form. Near the middle of the form, it says the following:
"In order for the Astronomer to provide a program suitable for your group, please describe below the goals and objectives of your visit to the Planetarium. You may also mention any preparation in space science or other related fields that the students have received. If you wish, you may also attach additional pages of materials."
I use the information to help me focus on things. Basically the shows are pretty much the same -- I will just linger on certain topics if I know what they are studying.
Generally, the things they write are unhelpful. Example #1: A group I actually had today wrote the following:
"Please avoid any discussion of 'Big Bang'. We just want them to see what's out there, where we can go, etc."
I guess it is good to know, but usually I hate being told what not to say. That one isn't too bad, it's just a good place to get started. The next couple show how the info provided is sometimes, at the very least, confusing, and at worst incomprehensible.
(I am sure that many of you will not consider me "Mr. Proofreader". I know my Blogs are riddled with typos and a smattering of intentional and unintentional grammatical debauchery. Please don't riddle me with hate mail as I pick on others' flawed writing. Yes, I am throwing the black kettle in a glass house. Or whatever.)
A group who is coming tomorrow asked (I swear this is exactly what it says):
"To learn more about the stars and they relatives to the planets."
??!!
The group which is coming on Friday asked me to:
"Show popular constellations/signs. Pass out or talk about if they are born in Dec and are Capricorn then they are the goat at this what it looks like."
Woo hoo! Let's see -- I can either pass out, OR talk about stuff. Hmmm....
I think I'll pass out.
Although, according to his description (or at least my interpretation of that garbled mess), I could have a program like this:
I could ask: "Who's born in December?"
When I kid says, "I am!"
I just lean forward and point at him, "GOAT!"
That would be fun...
Ehh, I think I will still choose to pass out.
Nothing major going on here -- I just wanted to share with you a couple of the show descriptions people have sent me.
Just to give you the appropriate background, when one makes a reservation, one gets a form. Near the middle of the form, it says the following:
"In order for the Astronomer to provide a program suitable for your group, please describe below the goals and objectives of your visit to the Planetarium. You may also mention any preparation in space science or other related fields that the students have received. If you wish, you may also attach additional pages of materials."
I use the information to help me focus on things. Basically the shows are pretty much the same -- I will just linger on certain topics if I know what they are studying.
Generally, the things they write are unhelpful. Example #1: A group I actually had today wrote the following:
"Please avoid any discussion of 'Big Bang'. We just want them to see what's out there, where we can go, etc."
I guess it is good to know, but usually I hate being told what not to say. That one isn't too bad, it's just a good place to get started. The next couple show how the info provided is sometimes, at the very least, confusing, and at worst incomprehensible.
(I am sure that many of you will not consider me "Mr. Proofreader". I know my Blogs are riddled with typos and a smattering of intentional and unintentional grammatical debauchery. Please don't riddle me with hate mail as I pick on others' flawed writing. Yes, I am throwing the black kettle in a glass house. Or whatever.)
A group who is coming tomorrow asked (I swear this is exactly what it says):
"To learn more about the stars and they relatives to the planets."
??!!
The group which is coming on Friday asked me to:
"Show popular constellations/signs. Pass out or talk about if they are born in Dec and are Capricorn then they are the goat at this what it looks like."
Woo hoo! Let's see -- I can either pass out, OR talk about stuff. Hmmm....
I think I'll pass out.
Although, according to his description (or at least my interpretation of that garbled mess), I could have a program like this:
I could ask: "Who's born in December?"
When I kid says, "I am!"
I just lean forward and point at him, "GOAT!"
That would be fun...
Ehh, I think I will still choose to pass out.
...There's Something Familiar
Some little ones came today from a small day care center. They were between four and six years old. A couple of the kids looked a bit familiar, so, at the beginning of the program, I asked if anyone had been here before. Some started raising their hands, and some of them were actually the ones that looked familiar. Cool, I wasn't losing my mind. I just kind of acknowledged them, and went to move on.
One of the kids started pumping his hand at me, seeming like he wanted to tell me something. So I leaned toward him and nodded to indicate he could tell me what he wanted to...
"I've been here before!" he told me, proudly.
"Great," I told him, "glad to see you again."
Another little one had her hand up.
"I've been here, too!" she told me.
"Terrific," I told her.
Another girl now had her hand up. I nodded to her to get her to tell me what she wanted.
"I've never been here before," she explained, "but I've been to another one like this." Oh, boy. I can see where this is going... every one of them is going to have to tell me his or her story.
Another boy had his hand up and was pumping away. Before I called on him I told the class, "OK, I'm going to hear what this boy has to say, and then we'll move on." I gestured to him to let him know he should tell me the comment he wanted to make.
"I've been in a room that smells like this before."
I apparently listened to one too many. AND NOW I'm all sorts of paranoid! What does it smell like in here? Is there some stench I'm not noticing? Is it a bad smell? Is it me? Did I forget to apply deoderant this morning?
I somehow managed to let it go... for a few minutes. Whenever there was a quiet moment in the program I was walking around sniffing.
And I've scheduled a playdate for me and some Lysol in the Planetarium later.
Some little ones came today from a small day care center. They were between four and six years old. A couple of the kids looked a bit familiar, so, at the beginning of the program, I asked if anyone had been here before. Some started raising their hands, and some of them were actually the ones that looked familiar. Cool, I wasn't losing my mind. I just kind of acknowledged them, and went to move on.
One of the kids started pumping his hand at me, seeming like he wanted to tell me something. So I leaned toward him and nodded to indicate he could tell me what he wanted to...
"I've been here before!" he told me, proudly.
"Great," I told him, "glad to see you again."
Another little one had her hand up.
"I've been here, too!" she told me.
"Terrific," I told her.
Another girl now had her hand up. I nodded to her to get her to tell me what she wanted.
"I've never been here before," she explained, "but I've been to another one like this." Oh, boy. I can see where this is going... every one of them is going to have to tell me his or her story.
Another boy had his hand up and was pumping away. Before I called on him I told the class, "OK, I'm going to hear what this boy has to say, and then we'll move on." I gestured to him to let him know he should tell me the comment he wanted to make.
"I've been in a room that smells like this before."
I apparently listened to one too many. AND NOW I'm all sorts of paranoid! What does it smell like in here? Is there some stench I'm not noticing? Is it a bad smell? Is it me? Did I forget to apply deoderant this morning?
I somehow managed to let it go... for a few minutes. Whenever there was a quiet moment in the program I was walking around sniffing.
And I've scheduled a playdate for me and some Lysol in the Planetarium later.
Monday, July 21, 2003
Sometimes They Come Up With Nifty Stuff
Last week, during the College for Kids, we had one day where we studied asteroids. I had them make their own "Asteroid Mining Colony". I went out and bought potatoes, and we used a variety of office products to build a space station on the asteroid. Push pins acted as landing lights, bent paper clips were structures on the asteroid... it was kind of fun. It was also a little messy, in a starchy sort of way. Some kids even reformed their 'asteroid' by cutting pieces of the potato off one side, and installing them on a different side.
They were creative, but a whole box of 500 push pins were sacrificed for the creation of their asteroid colonies. Uncountable paper clips were demolished for the exercise. But they did get to think and be creative for a while.
Part of the job was naming their potato. One kid, Ryan, named his asteroid "Potato Khan". It was COMPLETELY covered in bent paper clips. He would carry it around and make screechy pterodactyl-style sounds.
We made them on Tuesday, and he brought it back every day for the rest of the week. Potato Kahn was pretty stinking rancid by Friday.
This is how most of the kids approached most of the College for Kids projects.
But I had a fellow named Al, one of the youngest, yet smartest, kids in the class -- he named his asteroid "Freedom Rock". Most of the others named it something like "Boris", or "Asteroid X" or, obviously, "Potato Kahn" (which I did think was a little funny at the time. After a week of it screeching and getting nastier and funkier day by day, the novelty wore off). I asked Al how he had arrived at his name.
"Well, it's an asteroid, which has a bunch of rock in it, and rock is just a cool word, so I had to have 'rock' in there somewhere. And this particular model is made of potato. You make french fries out of potatoes. But there's a bunch of stupid people who don't call them french fries anymore, they call them 'freedom fries'. So, rocky asteroid plus potato equals 'Freedom Rock'. I thought it sounded good."
I just stood there, mouth agape. Brilliant.
AND, I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know of the compilation album called "Freedom Rock". I think that was a smidge before he was born. Do you remember?!
"Is that Freedom Rock, man?"
"Well turn it up, man!"
Last week, during the College for Kids, we had one day where we studied asteroids. I had them make their own "Asteroid Mining Colony". I went out and bought potatoes, and we used a variety of office products to build a space station on the asteroid. Push pins acted as landing lights, bent paper clips were structures on the asteroid... it was kind of fun. It was also a little messy, in a starchy sort of way. Some kids even reformed their 'asteroid' by cutting pieces of the potato off one side, and installing them on a different side.
They were creative, but a whole box of 500 push pins were sacrificed for the creation of their asteroid colonies. Uncountable paper clips were demolished for the exercise. But they did get to think and be creative for a while.
Part of the job was naming their potato. One kid, Ryan, named his asteroid "Potato Khan". It was COMPLETELY covered in bent paper clips. He would carry it around and make screechy pterodactyl-style sounds.
We made them on Tuesday, and he brought it back every day for the rest of the week. Potato Kahn was pretty stinking rancid by Friday.
This is how most of the kids approached most of the College for Kids projects.
But I had a fellow named Al, one of the youngest, yet smartest, kids in the class -- he named his asteroid "Freedom Rock". Most of the others named it something like "Boris", or "Asteroid X" or, obviously, "Potato Kahn" (which I did think was a little funny at the time. After a week of it screeching and getting nastier and funkier day by day, the novelty wore off). I asked Al how he had arrived at his name.
"Well, it's an asteroid, which has a bunch of rock in it, and rock is just a cool word, so I had to have 'rock' in there somewhere. And this particular model is made of potato. You make french fries out of potatoes. But there's a bunch of stupid people who don't call them french fries anymore, they call them 'freedom fries'. So, rocky asteroid plus potato equals 'Freedom Rock'. I thought it sounded good."
I just stood there, mouth agape. Brilliant.
AND, I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know of the compilation album called "Freedom Rock". I think that was a smidge before he was born. Do you remember?!
"Is that Freedom Rock, man?"
"Well turn it up, man!"
Thursday, July 17, 2003
It's Not Just the Wee Ones Who Get Scared
I had a group of pre-school kids the other day. They were 4 and 5 years old, and I even had a 2-year-old crier. The nice thing: Mom took the baby out once it started crying! It was amazing.
The story here really centers around: In the middle of the program, there was a terrible noise.
I was talking along, "....so this is a picture of Venus. Venus is a pretty nasty place to be...."
"BBBPPPLLLLTTRRRRATTTTATATATATATATAT!!!!"
It was as if a jackhammer was being used against the outside wall. I just about jumped out of my skin. It happened for about 3 seconds and then stopped.
I waited a moment, and continued.
"As I was saying about Venus..."
"BBPPPLLLLTRRATTTTATATATATAT!!!!"
Holy hell!! I thought I was going to wet myself! What a horrible sound! I wondered if they were currently tearing down the walls of the room. 3 seconds later, it stopped again.
I wandered over by the kids to see how they were doing. They were fine! They were swinging their legs and looking up at the ceiling. I was a nervous wreck, and the pre-schoolers were acting as if it was all part of the show! As I walked by one asked, "So, what about Venus?"
Venus?! What's a Venus?! My brain had completely forgotten what I was discussing. I figured that we were in the middle of a real-life version of Red Dawn. I mean, I seriously thought that machine guns were being fired at us on the outside.
The sound happened a couple more times, and I tried to regain my composure and do the program. Everytime the sound would happen, my voice would waver and crack like Peter Brady singing "When it's time to chaaAAaange..." I walked around as I spoke, trying to determine the source of the sound.
I found it! In the Planetarium, there are emergency speakers. These speakers are riddled throughout the campus. They are there in case there is some event which requires an announcement. I don't know of them ever being used during my time here. Apparently, the ones here in the Planetarium were getting some funky signal -- a power surge, some interference, something. Even after finding the source, I was still kind of shaken. The mystery was solved, but still... A scary noise. A dark room. It was pretty creepy. The adrenaline was flowing, and I was breathing heavy.
"SO?!?!" one of the five year olds piped up impatiently, "what about Venus?!"
I had a group of pre-school kids the other day. They were 4 and 5 years old, and I even had a 2-year-old crier. The nice thing: Mom took the baby out once it started crying! It was amazing.
The story here really centers around: In the middle of the program, there was a terrible noise.
I was talking along, "....so this is a picture of Venus. Venus is a pretty nasty place to be...."
"BBBPPPLLLLTTRRRRATTTTATATATATATATAT!!!!"
It was as if a jackhammer was being used against the outside wall. I just about jumped out of my skin. It happened for about 3 seconds and then stopped.
I waited a moment, and continued.
"As I was saying about Venus..."
"BBPPPLLLLTRRATTTTATATATATAT!!!!"
Holy hell!! I thought I was going to wet myself! What a horrible sound! I wondered if they were currently tearing down the walls of the room. 3 seconds later, it stopped again.
I wandered over by the kids to see how they were doing. They were fine! They were swinging their legs and looking up at the ceiling. I was a nervous wreck, and the pre-schoolers were acting as if it was all part of the show! As I walked by one asked, "So, what about Venus?"
Venus?! What's a Venus?! My brain had completely forgotten what I was discussing. I figured that we were in the middle of a real-life version of Red Dawn. I mean, I seriously thought that machine guns were being fired at us on the outside.
The sound happened a couple more times, and I tried to regain my composure and do the program. Everytime the sound would happen, my voice would waver and crack like Peter Brady singing "When it's time to chaaAAaange..." I walked around as I spoke, trying to determine the source of the sound.
I found it! In the Planetarium, there are emergency speakers. These speakers are riddled throughout the campus. They are there in case there is some event which requires an announcement. I don't know of them ever being used during my time here. Apparently, the ones here in the Planetarium were getting some funky signal -- a power surge, some interference, something. Even after finding the source, I was still kind of shaken. The mystery was solved, but still... A scary noise. A dark room. It was pretty creepy. The adrenaline was flowing, and I was breathing heavy.
"SO?!?!" one of the five year olds piped up impatiently, "what about Venus?!"
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
A Lesson on Subtlety
I had a couple of shows open to the public this weekend. The second one was completely full; actually the last family to come in couldn't even sit together! It's usually not that crazy.
Before the second show, I had some people come about 45 minutes early. I told them that I was not quite ready to sell them tickets, but I would be set-up in about 10 minutes.
One woman said, "That's OK! I wanted to buy a couple things in the gift shop before the show anyway!"
Gift shop?! We're in a college, we don't actually make any money, we have NO staff, except for me.... there is no gift shop. I didn't say those words, what I said was:
"Actually, we're really just a tiny little operation here. We're really all about the 'show', more than the 'gift'." I was not intending to be a wiseass. I was just trying to be funny and clever in my usually failing manner. I did NOT get my point across.
"That's OK," she told me, "I don't want to buy much."
MUCH?! Listen, lady, you're not buying anything! That was the thought -- this was what I vocalized: "Actually, we don't have a store at all. It's just the show. I'm sorry."
She looked as if I had smacked her in the face. She wanted to buy something real bad.
I tried to cheer her up -- "I DO have tons of stuff you get after the show, though! Your ticket makes a great bookmark," (they do!), "and there's a star chart with information about spacecraft on the back, and especially for this show, I printed copies of the NASA Lithograph on Comets AND the one on Asteroids! They're right on the front table as you go in."
"Terrific!" she said, her eyes all aglow once again.
Yay! I succeeded! She was happy again!
I was wrong!
She finished with: "How much are those?"
She didn't get it. But I was excited to tell her: "They're free! Just take one! Or a few, if you know other people who might like one! No charge. No problem."
She got all depressed again! She didn't want the free stuff, she wanted to pay for something. I almost wanted to say, "Just kidding, it's $10 for the set." It probably would have made her happy. And I would have gotten $10.
But I chickened out... until next time!
When I won't do it then, either.
I had a couple of shows open to the public this weekend. The second one was completely full; actually the last family to come in couldn't even sit together! It's usually not that crazy.
Before the second show, I had some people come about 45 minutes early. I told them that I was not quite ready to sell them tickets, but I would be set-up in about 10 minutes.
One woman said, "That's OK! I wanted to buy a couple things in the gift shop before the show anyway!"
Gift shop?! We're in a college, we don't actually make any money, we have NO staff, except for me.... there is no gift shop. I didn't say those words, what I said was:
"Actually, we're really just a tiny little operation here. We're really all about the 'show', more than the 'gift'." I was not intending to be a wiseass. I was just trying to be funny and clever in my usually failing manner. I did NOT get my point across.
"That's OK," she told me, "I don't want to buy much."
MUCH?! Listen, lady, you're not buying anything! That was the thought -- this was what I vocalized: "Actually, we don't have a store at all. It's just the show. I'm sorry."
She looked as if I had smacked her in the face. She wanted to buy something real bad.
I tried to cheer her up -- "I DO have tons of stuff you get after the show, though! Your ticket makes a great bookmark," (they do!), "and there's a star chart with information about spacecraft on the back, and especially for this show, I printed copies of the NASA Lithograph on Comets AND the one on Asteroids! They're right on the front table as you go in."
"Terrific!" she said, her eyes all aglow once again.
Yay! I succeeded! She was happy again!
I was wrong!
She finished with: "How much are those?"
She didn't get it. But I was excited to tell her: "They're free! Just take one! Or a few, if you know other people who might like one! No charge. No problem."
She got all depressed again! She didn't want the free stuff, she wanted to pay for something. I almost wanted to say, "Just kidding, it's $10 for the set." It probably would have made her happy. And I would have gotten $10.
But I chickened out... until next time!
When I won't do it then, either.
Last Friday night -- 7:00 pm -- a Boy Scout troop. There were a few different dens there (I hope I got the classification of the scouts right -- I was not in the scouts for very long. I might have been a Weeblo, or something like that...).
TWO of the dens had come seperately, a den at a time, before -- merely a couple of months back! Why return?! The sky doesn't change that much.
Aside: We DO advertise that we will 'customize a show for your needs.' 99 44/100% of the people just tell me to do "...stars and planets." Occasionally they ask for one or two specific things (Halley's comet, asteroids), and I can toss those in as I need to. But generally, the 'customize a show...' is really an empty promise -- we will do whatever you ask for, but everybody justr asks for the same thing.
This group's request said -- "Many of these kids have been here before. Please do something different."
Great. Many groups come with no purpose, just to get out of the house. This seemed to be one of those. But on we go...
One of the boys came to the Planetarium well prepared! "With what?", you ask?
"With a good knowledge of space?" No.
"With some burning questions about astronomy?" Nope.
"With a burning curiosity of all things big and far away?" Sorry, wrong again.
He came packing a laser pointer. I don't think I need to tell you in which ways it was annoying. It's kind of tricky to deal with. I generally just ignore them, and they go away. This kid really didn't abuse his little red dot, but it would show up on a regular basis. Each time it would go up, I would repress the rage. I really didn't want to be the screaming guy -- "ERIGHT! WHICH ONE OF YOU LITTLE WEASELS HAS THE LASER POINTER!! I'M GOING TO SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT SO FAR THAT IT WILL BLOCK YOUR COLON!!" So, I kind of let it go. Any ideas on a more appropriate response? Send it along!
At the end of the show, the woman who made the reservation approached me. I knew I had done basically the same show I have been doing for months. I kind of braced myself for her reaction -- "I asked for something different!" is what I expected.
But she instead said, "Thanks! I'm so glad you did all different stuff!"
I did?! Hmmmm...
"Last time you talked just about the signs of the Zodiac. The stuff this time on the planets and other constellations was great."
I have NO IDEA what Planetarium she had been to, but it sure wasn't mine. I have NEVER done a program JUST on the constellations of the zodiac -- they've all heard of Scorpio and Libra and Leo -- I try to show them others.
I guess I can't complain -- I mean, it all worked out, and she was thrilled.
I can't complain, but I can be confused.
TWO of the dens had come seperately, a den at a time, before -- merely a couple of months back! Why return?! The sky doesn't change that much.
Aside: We DO advertise that we will 'customize a show for your needs.' 99 44/100% of the people just tell me to do "...stars and planets." Occasionally they ask for one or two specific things (Halley's comet, asteroids), and I can toss those in as I need to. But generally, the 'customize a show...' is really an empty promise -- we will do whatever you ask for, but everybody justr asks for the same thing.
This group's request said -- "Many of these kids have been here before. Please do something different."
Great. Many groups come with no purpose, just to get out of the house. This seemed to be one of those. But on we go...
One of the boys came to the Planetarium well prepared! "With what?", you ask?
"With a good knowledge of space?" No.
"With some burning questions about astronomy?" Nope.
"With a burning curiosity of all things big and far away?" Sorry, wrong again.
He came packing a laser pointer. I don't think I need to tell you in which ways it was annoying. It's kind of tricky to deal with. I generally just ignore them, and they go away. This kid really didn't abuse his little red dot, but it would show up on a regular basis. Each time it would go up, I would repress the rage. I really didn't want to be the screaming guy -- "ERIGHT! WHICH ONE OF YOU LITTLE WEASELS HAS THE LASER POINTER!! I'M GOING TO SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT SO FAR THAT IT WILL BLOCK YOUR COLON!!" So, I kind of let it go. Any ideas on a more appropriate response? Send it along!
At the end of the show, the woman who made the reservation approached me. I knew I had done basically the same show I have been doing for months. I kind of braced myself for her reaction -- "I asked for something different!" is what I expected.
But she instead said, "Thanks! I'm so glad you did all different stuff!"
I did?! Hmmmm...
"Last time you talked just about the signs of the Zodiac. The stuff this time on the planets and other constellations was great."
I have NO IDEA what Planetarium she had been to, but it sure wasn't mine. I have NEVER done a program JUST on the constellations of the zodiac -- they've all heard of Scorpio and Libra and Leo -- I try to show them others.
I guess I can't complain -- I mean, it all worked out, and she was thrilled.
I can't complain, but I can be confused.
Eight Days Later....
SORRY I have been so lax with updated this Blog. It's been rather busy, but rather redundant. There hasn't been too much to discuss. Last week we hosted the Summer Academy, so I had the same kids all week long. They were good, and though there was probably some Blog-ly material, I can't recall much.
A super-quickie: We went for a trip to the Buehler Science Center. One of the kids, C.J., was chosen to handle the Life Support section in Mission Control. Immediately, Ryanne, one of the kids, muttered, "Damn, we gonna die." It was pretty funny, especially if you knew them.
This week I have the College for Kids, another week-long stint. I've had them for one class so far. One kid slept through it, and a bunch of others were 'bored'. We built a fly-able Space Shuttle!! It was so cool. Looks like a tough crowd.
I do have other shows scattered about, so there should be some Bloggable funk in there somewhere.
They say if you have a Blog, you should add at least one entry per day. Yeeps. I have a bunch of catching up to do.
I just threw this in so that you all knew that I have not forgotten about you!! Thanks for your patience. More to come...
SORRY I have been so lax with updated this Blog. It's been rather busy, but rather redundant. There hasn't been too much to discuss. Last week we hosted the Summer Academy, so I had the same kids all week long. They were good, and though there was probably some Blog-ly material, I can't recall much.
A super-quickie: We went for a trip to the Buehler Science Center. One of the kids, C.J., was chosen to handle the Life Support section in Mission Control. Immediately, Ryanne, one of the kids, muttered, "Damn, we gonna die." It was pretty funny, especially if you knew them.
This week I have the College for Kids, another week-long stint. I've had them for one class so far. One kid slept through it, and a bunch of others were 'bored'. We built a fly-able Space Shuttle!! It was so cool. Looks like a tough crowd.
I do have other shows scattered about, so there should be some Bloggable funk in there somewhere.
They say if you have a Blog, you should add at least one entry per day. Yeeps. I have a bunch of catching up to do.
I just threw this in so that you all knew that I have not forgotten about you!! Thanks for your patience. More to come...
Monday, July 07, 2003
There's no more exciting feeling than seeing a group coming down the hill with strollers. Any child who can't speak or understand words, or know why he or she is in a dark room all of a sudden, and can only vocalize his or her concern by screaming and crying just brightens up a room.
This group was a bunch of home-schooled kids. Whenever they arrive, the parents always bring their other babies. It's horrible! Babies cry. That's all they do. EVER. Well, OK, sometimes they do other things.
Like hum, apparently.
There was one kid who was just humming and chattering and moaning throughout the show. There was no stopping him. The shape of the Planetarium makes it so that any noise just echoes around the room. His "burblemmmgrtgrtrtgggmmmnjjjuhjuhjuhgaaah" was just drowning me out completely. About 15 minutes into the show, I went over to who I assumed to be his mother and asked if there was anything she could do to quiet him down. She whispered, "He's just antsy. He needs something to play with."
"Can you give him something?" I asked gently. She nodded and reached into the back of the stroller.
I went back to the show, and a few seconds later I was interrupted by a horrible sound: "KKKKKRRRRRIIIIPPPP!"
Mom's choice of toy: some kind of little kid wrist-rattle toy. How does it attach to the wrist? With Velcro! She gave him a piece of Velcro to keep him quiet!!
He was no longer humming, but he just spent the rest of the hour ripping Velcro; a noise twice as loud and 10 times more annoying.
WARNING: Be careful what you wish for.
This group was a bunch of home-schooled kids. Whenever they arrive, the parents always bring their other babies. It's horrible! Babies cry. That's all they do. EVER. Well, OK, sometimes they do other things.
Like hum, apparently.
There was one kid who was just humming and chattering and moaning throughout the show. There was no stopping him. The shape of the Planetarium makes it so that any noise just echoes around the room. His "burblemmmgrtgrtrtgggmmmnjjjuhjuhjuhgaaah" was just drowning me out completely. About 15 minutes into the show, I went over to who I assumed to be his mother and asked if there was anything she could do to quiet him down. She whispered, "He's just antsy. He needs something to play with."
"Can you give him something?" I asked gently. She nodded and reached into the back of the stroller.
I went back to the show, and a few seconds later I was interrupted by a horrible sound: "KKKKKRRRRRIIIIPPPP!"
Mom's choice of toy: some kind of little kid wrist-rattle toy. How does it attach to the wrist? With Velcro! She gave him a piece of Velcro to keep him quiet!!
He was no longer humming, but he just spent the rest of the hour ripping Velcro; a noise twice as loud and 10 times more annoying.
WARNING: Be careful what you wish for.
I have written about ways in which the teachers quiet down the kids on the way into the Planetarium before.
Here's another new one...
I had a batch of little ones -- a pre-school day care set. They were as rowdy as ever, and I stopped them in front of the door, making it obvious that I neded to speak to them before we went inside. One of the teachers turned to the kids and said "Catch a bubble!"
They all appeared to hold their breath, as little kids do, with cheeks puffed out.
I only half heard what the teacher had said, and was just enthralled by the little ones quieting quickly and apparently holding their breath.
"Did you say, 'Catch a bubble"?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
"Yep," the teacher told me.
"Oh." I watched the kids for almost 20 seconds. "How long will they stay like that?"
"Until we tell them to stop," she told me.
"Won't they pass out, eventually?" I asked her.
"OH! THey're not holding their breath! They can breathe through their noses! They're just puffing out their cheeks and pretending that there is a bubble in their mouths."
Catch a bubble. Hey, whatever works.
Another quick thing: as we headed inside, she said to me, "This is two hours, right?"
I replied, "This what is two hours?!"
"The show," she explained.
"Oh, no," I told her, eyes wide, "You'll be out of here in less than an hour!" TWO HOURS?!? Four-year-olds don't sleep for two hours at a time! I'm supposed to keep their attention in a dark room on a beautiful summer day for two hours!!?? Yeah. I don't think so, missy.
She said, "Uh, oh, I better go try to catch the bus driver!" And she ran off.
Two hours. Sheesh.
Here's another new one...
I had a batch of little ones -- a pre-school day care set. They were as rowdy as ever, and I stopped them in front of the door, making it obvious that I neded to speak to them before we went inside. One of the teachers turned to the kids and said "Catch a bubble!"
They all appeared to hold their breath, as little kids do, with cheeks puffed out.
I only half heard what the teacher had said, and was just enthralled by the little ones quieting quickly and apparently holding their breath.
"Did you say, 'Catch a bubble"?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
"Yep," the teacher told me.
"Oh." I watched the kids for almost 20 seconds. "How long will they stay like that?"
"Until we tell them to stop," she told me.
"Won't they pass out, eventually?" I asked her.
"OH! THey're not holding their breath! They can breathe through their noses! They're just puffing out their cheeks and pretending that there is a bubble in their mouths."
Catch a bubble. Hey, whatever works.
Another quick thing: as we headed inside, she said to me, "This is two hours, right?"
I replied, "This what is two hours?!"
"The show," she explained.
"Oh, no," I told her, eyes wide, "You'll be out of here in less than an hour!" TWO HOURS?!? Four-year-olds don't sleep for two hours at a time! I'm supposed to keep their attention in a dark room on a beautiful summer day for two hours!!?? Yeah. I don't think so, missy.
She said, "Uh, oh, I better go try to catch the bus driver!" And she ran off.
Two hours. Sheesh.
Ah, the dreaded birthday party. It's always a gas.
Last week I had one. It was actually 2 sisters, one turning 7 and the other turning 9 a few weeks later. On the reservation form was written "Program for Samantha and Katherine's birthdays." The person coming to the show writes that.
They arrived a smidge early, and were waiting in the classroom next door. I went in, all smiles, and said, "OK, which two are Samantha and Katherine?" I was very friendly and excited, trying to make them happy to be there.
The mother said to me, slowly, and quizzically, "Katherine goes by 'Kate', but Samantha is not here. Why do you ask about Samantha?"
I was totally thrown off. I thought it was her birthday!! Why shouldn't I ask?? I'm trying to be a good host!! After a couple seconds of shock I said, "I thought it was her birthday!!" I left the other statements clattering around in my brain.
She told me, "No, we're celebrating Kate's birthday, and my other daughter Dana. It's not Samantha's birthday!" She said it all appalled-like, as if I was so uncouth to suggest such a thing.
"Oh." I said. "I thought the names on the form were Samantha and Katherine." I excused myself and went to check the sheet in my office next door. As I went over there I realized that there was NO WAY I invented the name Samantha -- it wasn't as if I had thought the other daughter was named "Donna" when it was "Dana". I actually picked a COMPLETELY different name that happened to be the name of her other daughter. I checked the form, and, indeed, the names were listed as Samantha and Katherine.
I went back over and told her that the form said "Samantha" and not "Dana". She said, "Oh, I'm not surprised, I get those two confused all the time."
Oh, good! A mother who can't distinguish between two of her own daughters. This is not starting out well.
As with every birthday party, some people came late. I told her that I couldn't let people in late, it would be too dark. She had a video camera in her hand and said, "Don't worry, this has a light."
I told that there couldn't be lights on when we go into the darkness. She assured me that it was "Just a little light."
I was about to explain that the little lights in light-up sneakers were too bright, but I could see this conversation was going nowhere, and I gave up...
Sure enough, 10 minutes into the darkness she comes in with the latecomers, and the SPOTLIGHT on her video camera on. Nobody could see for minutes.
I explained that she needed to "turn off the light!! We're getting blinded in here!!"
She stopped for a second, thought about the statement and told me, "Really? I can see fine."
Later, in the middle of the show, her cell phone went off. She decided to answer it, but it was apparently too dark to find the cell phone in her purse. SO, she picked up her video camera and turned the light back on to help her see. I yelled out, "WE JUST CAN'T SEE WHEN YOU TURN ON THE LIGHT!! NO LIGHTS!!"
She laughed and said, "I think I just got in trouble with the teacher."
Yes. Yes, you did.
Last week I had one. It was actually 2 sisters, one turning 7 and the other turning 9 a few weeks later. On the reservation form was written "Program for Samantha and Katherine's birthdays." The person coming to the show writes that.
They arrived a smidge early, and were waiting in the classroom next door. I went in, all smiles, and said, "OK, which two are Samantha and Katherine?" I was very friendly and excited, trying to make them happy to be there.
The mother said to me, slowly, and quizzically, "Katherine goes by 'Kate', but Samantha is not here. Why do you ask about Samantha?"
I was totally thrown off. I thought it was her birthday!! Why shouldn't I ask?? I'm trying to be a good host!! After a couple seconds of shock I said, "I thought it was her birthday!!" I left the other statements clattering around in my brain.
She told me, "No, we're celebrating Kate's birthday, and my other daughter Dana. It's not Samantha's birthday!" She said it all appalled-like, as if I was so uncouth to suggest such a thing.
"Oh." I said. "I thought the names on the form were Samantha and Katherine." I excused myself and went to check the sheet in my office next door. As I went over there I realized that there was NO WAY I invented the name Samantha -- it wasn't as if I had thought the other daughter was named "Donna" when it was "Dana". I actually picked a COMPLETELY different name that happened to be the name of her other daughter. I checked the form, and, indeed, the names were listed as Samantha and Katherine.
I went back over and told her that the form said "Samantha" and not "Dana". She said, "Oh, I'm not surprised, I get those two confused all the time."
Oh, good! A mother who can't distinguish between two of her own daughters. This is not starting out well.
As with every birthday party, some people came late. I told her that I couldn't let people in late, it would be too dark. She had a video camera in her hand and said, "Don't worry, this has a light."
I told that there couldn't be lights on when we go into the darkness. She assured me that it was "Just a little light."
I was about to explain that the little lights in light-up sneakers were too bright, but I could see this conversation was going nowhere, and I gave up...
Sure enough, 10 minutes into the darkness she comes in with the latecomers, and the SPOTLIGHT on her video camera on. Nobody could see for minutes.
I explained that she needed to "turn off the light!! We're getting blinded in here!!"
She stopped for a second, thought about the statement and told me, "Really? I can see fine."
Later, in the middle of the show, her cell phone went off. She decided to answer it, but it was apparently too dark to find the cell phone in her purse. SO, she picked up her video camera and turned the light back on to help her see. I yelled out, "WE JUST CAN'T SEE WHEN YOU TURN ON THE LIGHT!! NO LIGHTS!!"
She laughed and said, "I think I just got in trouble with the teacher."
Yes. Yes, you did.
Thursday, July 03, 2003
The group which is featured in this Blog was about 8 years old -- and at least one which was quite environmentally conscious.
I showed my usual Mars Exploration Rover video. It's popular, and has definitely been my favorite part of the program since I began including it a couple months ago. It's some sweet animation, and, perhaps most importantly, I don't have to speak for a little over seven minutes.
After the video was over, I got a commonly asked question; a girl blurted out, "How does the robot get back to Earth?"
"It doesn't!" They are always flabbergasted by this.
"Well how do we get the information and pictures and stuff?"
"It will be broadcast back to Earth, kind of like a radio or TV station does." They generally get that.
"But what about the robot?"
"It's just going to stay there," I insisted.
"We're just going to leave it there?" Her voice obtained a sort of sarcastic and accusatory tone. "So... we're going to send it Mars, and it'll eventually break down, and we're just going to leave it there."
"Exactly!" I was happy she had gotten it.
"Oh, great," the girl said, in a voice that was obviously directed at everyone. "Like we don't do it enough here; now we're gonna litter on Mars." Her speech had a defiant inflection at this point.
"I guess so," I told her, slowly, with a little edge of guilt to my voice. I thought about mentioning that Mars was just a rocky lifeless desert, so far as we know, and that we've ALREADY left stuff on Mars. I thought about mentioning that it's kind of like leaving stuff on the moon -- we've already done that, too! But I really don't think she would have been convinced -- the anti-pollution conviction in her voice was way too strong.
I decided to try for a more positive note, to try to get on her side. I said, "Maybe, when we have the technology to send people there and bring them back, we can collect those things and clean up Mars!"
"Whatever," she said disgustedly.
I showed my usual Mars Exploration Rover video. It's popular, and has definitely been my favorite part of the program since I began including it a couple months ago. It's some sweet animation, and, perhaps most importantly, I don't have to speak for a little over seven minutes.
After the video was over, I got a commonly asked question; a girl blurted out, "How does the robot get back to Earth?"
"It doesn't!" They are always flabbergasted by this.
"Well how do we get the information and pictures and stuff?"
"It will be broadcast back to Earth, kind of like a radio or TV station does." They generally get that.
"But what about the robot?"
"It's just going to stay there," I insisted.
"We're just going to leave it there?" Her voice obtained a sort of sarcastic and accusatory tone. "So... we're going to send it Mars, and it'll eventually break down, and we're just going to leave it there."
"Exactly!" I was happy she had gotten it.
"Oh, great," the girl said, in a voice that was obviously directed at everyone. "Like we don't do it enough here; now we're gonna litter on Mars." Her speech had a defiant inflection at this point.
"I guess so," I told her, slowly, with a little edge of guilt to my voice. I thought about mentioning that Mars was just a rocky lifeless desert, so far as we know, and that we've ALREADY left stuff on Mars. I thought about mentioning that it's kind of like leaving stuff on the moon -- we've already done that, too! But I really don't think she would have been convinced -- the anti-pollution conviction in her voice was way too strong.
I decided to try for a more positive note, to try to get on her side. I said, "Maybe, when we have the technology to send people there and bring them back, we can collect those things and clean up Mars!"
"Whatever," she said disgustedly.
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
I had a group of kids between the ages of 5 and 7. I get this age group a lot (regular readers are sick of me even mentioning them, I'm sure), and, though they are a real workout, the one thing I can always count on is making them laugh. You can say stupid, silly things, and it gets them giggling and keeps their attention. I have my standard, kill-them-everytime fare. These are the never-fail jokes. There's one statement I use when talking about how Mercury gets cold as soon as the sun go down. I tell them if you were watching a sunset on Mercury, "you would burn your face off and freeze your butt off at the exact same time." They cackle like crazy at that. I think it's just because I used the word 'butt', and they don't expect that, but once that icebreaker gets in there, I can say almost anything and they'll crack up.
The group today was having none of it. NONE. From the start, they had no reaction to anything -- they were inhuman, I swear. It must have been 26 robotic children. This is prime stuff! Everyone laughs when I make my asteroid colliding with the moon sound effects -- "Whhhissshh! Buh-kkkiiish!" This age group usually eats it up like chocolate cupcakes! Not this group.
"People have told me the Little Dipper looks like a vacuum cleaner!" This is a classic line, which even adults get giggly over. And then I point out "the sucky-up part", and make vacuum noises - "PBPBPBPPPRRRRSSSZZZZ." Hilarious. Really. Always works. ALWAYS. OK, maybe you have to be there... it works. Trust me. I know they are laughing at me and not with me, but it's fine, really. I am here to entertain!
But not for this group. They collectively had no sense of humor. My timing was good. My sound effects were as wacky as ever. I was "on". They cared for none of it. Not a snicker, not a chuckle, not even a sigh at a witty pun. Nothing. I thought about doing random checks for a pulse. I restrained from using the "Is this thing on?!" line, but I was close.
During a Delta Rocket launch I often project on the dome, kids this age are often confused by the release of the booster rockets. There are at least 6 stages of rocket boosters that fly off. Some worry that the rocket is breaking up. For this age group, I usually warn them ahead of the time that "as the rocket uses up its gas tanks and engines, it doesn't need them anymore. They are dead weight, so they get thrown off into space."
The rocket in the video does its thing, and when the first boosters fly off I remind them, "It doesn't need them so it throws 'em off!" Usually they giggle here.
The second boosters go, and I repeat, "It doesn't need them so it throws 'em off!" The giggles get heartier.
By the time it happens for the fourth time, the kids are chortling away. They LOVE it. Normally.
I tried the same method for this humorless group. After the first set of rockets blew off, I used my line. NO reaction. I am not easily daunted!! The second and third go off, and I put out my best "It doesn't need them so it throws 'em off!" It had flair and style, and could have made any 5 year old roll on the floor.
(Side note: I realize it's not funny. I don't know why they normally laugh, but they always do.)
The fourth set was blasting off and I went to say it again, "It doesn't need them so it ..."
One of the five year olds cuts in to tell me, in the flatest, driest tone I have ever heard: "Please stop doing that."
*-sigh-* OK.
The group today was having none of it. NONE. From the start, they had no reaction to anything -- they were inhuman, I swear. It must have been 26 robotic children. This is prime stuff! Everyone laughs when I make my asteroid colliding with the moon sound effects -- "Whhhissshh! Buh-kkkiiish!" This age group usually eats it up like chocolate cupcakes! Not this group.
"People have told me the Little Dipper looks like a vacuum cleaner!" This is a classic line, which even adults get giggly over. And then I point out "the sucky-up part", and make vacuum noises - "PBPBPBPPPRRRRSSSZZZZ." Hilarious. Really. Always works. ALWAYS. OK, maybe you have to be there... it works. Trust me. I know they are laughing at me and not with me, but it's fine, really. I am here to entertain!
But not for this group. They collectively had no sense of humor. My timing was good. My sound effects were as wacky as ever. I was "on". They cared for none of it. Not a snicker, not a chuckle, not even a sigh at a witty pun. Nothing. I thought about doing random checks for a pulse. I restrained from using the "Is this thing on?!" line, but I was close.
During a Delta Rocket launch I often project on the dome, kids this age are often confused by the release of the booster rockets. There are at least 6 stages of rocket boosters that fly off. Some worry that the rocket is breaking up. For this age group, I usually warn them ahead of the time that "as the rocket uses up its gas tanks and engines, it doesn't need them anymore. They are dead weight, so they get thrown off into space."
The rocket in the video does its thing, and when the first boosters fly off I remind them, "It doesn't need them so it throws 'em off!" Usually they giggle here.
The second boosters go, and I repeat, "It doesn't need them so it throws 'em off!" The giggles get heartier.
By the time it happens for the fourth time, the kids are chortling away. They LOVE it. Normally.
I tried the same method for this humorless group. After the first set of rockets blew off, I used my line. NO reaction. I am not easily daunted!! The second and third go off, and I put out my best "It doesn't need them so it throws 'em off!" It had flair and style, and could have made any 5 year old roll on the floor.
(Side note: I realize it's not funny. I don't know why they normally laugh, but they always do.)
The fourth set was blasting off and I went to say it again, "It doesn't need them so it ..."
One of the five year olds cuts in to tell me, in the flatest, driest tone I have ever heard: "Please stop doing that."
*-sigh-* OK.
Here's a quick one that had me confused for a little while.
I had a group of little ones, 5ish years old, and during the question and answer session I had a kid ask, "Why is Santa Claus on Mars?"
I figured that after 418 shows and 16749 people (yes, I just went and checked those numbers!), I would have heard all the possible questions in some way or another. That was definitely a question I had not heard. I really had no clue...
I told her, "I don't think Santa Claus is on Mars."
She said, "But you told us that Santa Claus was on Mars!"
Uh, oh. I don't remember saying that, but I do a lot of shows, and possibly I had slipped into some fugue state and just started freakishly bellowing out random things. It's actually a fear of mine that I will go manic from all the questions from little kids and just start going crazy in the middle of the show.
"Here's the planet Venus. It's actually just a large potato cultivated in Idaho in the early 1700's. Mercury is inhabited by the Jolly Green Giant and his little buddy, Sprout. That's the only place where they can grow the special 'niblet' corn. The stars are actually just dart holes left over from a british soccer riot in 1979 -- there were no stars before that. Neptune doesn't really exist, scientists just made it up!! HA HA!! We fooled you!! WE FOOLED EVERYONE!! HA HA HA!!! I have just removed my pants. Now everyone lean over and pinch the person to your right."
This hasn't happened yet, but you never know -- the mind is a strange place... But, I really was fairly certain that I had not mentioned Santa Claus.
I told the girl, "I'm pretty sure I did not mention Santa Claus. Maybe you heard something like it, and it was just a mistake. I don't think Santa Claus is on Mars."
She looked really upset. I thought she was going to cry. I haven't made too many kids cry -- it's never something I set out to do. I wasn't sure what to do. She leaned over to the teacher sitting next to her whining, "He said it! 'member?! He said it!"
The teacher looked as worried as I did. I hoped that she would convince the girl that she was mistaken. She just kind of shook her head confusedly.
The little girl wailed, "He showed it to us!! He showed us where Santa lives!"
The teacher's face lit up... "Oh! RIGHT!"
RIGHT?! Oh, great. Now the teacher is in on this cruel joke trying to make me freak out. I leaned forward with a quizzical expression and outstretched my hands towards her in a gesture indicating "Uh, can you let me in on this?? What are you talking about?"
The teacher said, "The North Pole. You said that there was 'ice and snow at the North Pole of Mars.' She just connected North Pole to Santa."
Phew. I had dodged insanity once again. For now.
Although, if somebody asks about the Easter Bunny, I know I'm going to flip out.
I had a group of little ones, 5ish years old, and during the question and answer session I had a kid ask, "Why is Santa Claus on Mars?"
I figured that after 418 shows and 16749 people (yes, I just went and checked those numbers!), I would have heard all the possible questions in some way or another. That was definitely a question I had not heard. I really had no clue...
I told her, "I don't think Santa Claus is on Mars."
She said, "But you told us that Santa Claus was on Mars!"
Uh, oh. I don't remember saying that, but I do a lot of shows, and possibly I had slipped into some fugue state and just started freakishly bellowing out random things. It's actually a fear of mine that I will go manic from all the questions from little kids and just start going crazy in the middle of the show.
"Here's the planet Venus. It's actually just a large potato cultivated in Idaho in the early 1700's. Mercury is inhabited by the Jolly Green Giant and his little buddy, Sprout. That's the only place where they can grow the special 'niblet' corn. The stars are actually just dart holes left over from a british soccer riot in 1979 -- there were no stars before that. Neptune doesn't really exist, scientists just made it up!! HA HA!! We fooled you!! WE FOOLED EVERYONE!! HA HA HA!!! I have just removed my pants. Now everyone lean over and pinch the person to your right."
This hasn't happened yet, but you never know -- the mind is a strange place... But, I really was fairly certain that I had not mentioned Santa Claus.
I told the girl, "I'm pretty sure I did not mention Santa Claus. Maybe you heard something like it, and it was just a mistake. I don't think Santa Claus is on Mars."
She looked really upset. I thought she was going to cry. I haven't made too many kids cry -- it's never something I set out to do. I wasn't sure what to do. She leaned over to the teacher sitting next to her whining, "He said it! 'member?! He said it!"
The teacher looked as worried as I did. I hoped that she would convince the girl that she was mistaken. She just kind of shook her head confusedly.
The little girl wailed, "He showed it to us!! He showed us where Santa lives!"
The teacher's face lit up... "Oh! RIGHT!"
RIGHT?! Oh, great. Now the teacher is in on this cruel joke trying to make me freak out. I leaned forward with a quizzical expression and outstretched my hands towards her in a gesture indicating "Uh, can you let me in on this?? What are you talking about?"
The teacher said, "The North Pole. You said that there was 'ice and snow at the North Pole of Mars.' She just connected North Pole to Santa."
Phew. I had dodged insanity once again. For now.
Although, if somebody asks about the Easter Bunny, I know I'm going to flip out.
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
I am back with a vengeance. FOUR shows today means Mr. Astronomy Guy is a tired fella.
I will try to recap as much as I can.
The first show was a group of 6, 7, and 8 year old special ed kids. When I have a special ed group, you know you'll get a blog about it!
They were a little less functional than I was used to. I got VERY few reactions from them. Most of the kids were walking around with mouths not completely closed. I say this not to pick on them, but to just give you a mental image -- I love these kids, really.
Sometimes, when a program seems a little too formal for the age group, and I'm not getting through to them, to make it feel a little more connected, I go and sit down in an empty seat among the kids as I talk about some stuff during the show. Rarely does one slide stay up for very long, so I usually am just sitting for a minute or two. This bunch seemed to be disinterested, and I couldn't tell if it was due to a genuine lack of interest, or if it was just their nature and I was misinterpreting it. So I decided to go sit among them...
I plopped down in an empty seat flanked by two small kids at the show. I was talking about features of the moon, and as soon as I sat down, both kids hopped out of their seats simultaneously and crawled into my lap. I thought they were going to start telling what they wanted for Christmas. It was crazy. I kept talking about stuff, and trying to glance around to figure out where any adult might be, but it was dark, and it was difficult to figure it out. I was running out of stuff to say, and I knew I had to get up soon to do something at the control panel. Luckily they were small kids, and I picked each one up, and redeposited each to his and her respective chairs. It was as if they were sloths or koalas, they just kind of stayed where I put them without another sound.
The best part of a special ed show is always the question and answer session at the end. These kids did not disappoint...
I asked if there were any questions, and one girl raised her hand and said, "Do you know where my friend is?"
I honestly had no clue. I guess from now on I will have to be more specific. I really meant: "Are there any questions about space for which you do not currently know the answer but perhaps I might?" This girl made a more general interepretation of the original query.
I told her, "Nope. I have no idea."
She pointed across the room at a girl sitting on the opposite side and said, "She's right there!" They waved to each other as if one was on a dockside and the other was on a cruise bound for a tropical island, and they laughed and laughed. All the kids, and a few of the parents joined in.
Once that settled down, another kid raised her hand. I knew it couldn't be good. She asked, "Do you know where my daddy is?"
OK, I have to take a moment to let you in on how sick I am. My brain has some worst-case-scenario flaw, because all I could think was Please don't let him be dead. Please!
I decided to play the game. "...at work?" I offered.
"Nope!" she told me with glee.
I looked around the room. All of the adults were female, so he wasn't in the room. "...at home?" I tried.
"Nope!" she said, and giggled some. There was a whole chorus of giggling that joined in.
The options were swiftly narrowing, and I did want to confront my worst-case possibility. I had run out of ideas. "I don't know," I told her.
"Me neither!" she exclaimed, and she started laughing and a whole bunch of kids joined in.
It kind of freaked me out, mainly because I got no answer to clear up the Please don't let him be dead brainwaves that still coursed through my skull. And that was it. No resolution at all for me! I hope somebody shows up to rock me to sleep tonight...
I will try to recap as much as I can.
The first show was a group of 6, 7, and 8 year old special ed kids. When I have a special ed group, you know you'll get a blog about it!
They were a little less functional than I was used to. I got VERY few reactions from them. Most of the kids were walking around with mouths not completely closed. I say this not to pick on them, but to just give you a mental image -- I love these kids, really.
Sometimes, when a program seems a little too formal for the age group, and I'm not getting through to them, to make it feel a little more connected, I go and sit down in an empty seat among the kids as I talk about some stuff during the show. Rarely does one slide stay up for very long, so I usually am just sitting for a minute or two. This bunch seemed to be disinterested, and I couldn't tell if it was due to a genuine lack of interest, or if it was just their nature and I was misinterpreting it. So I decided to go sit among them...
I plopped down in an empty seat flanked by two small kids at the show. I was talking about features of the moon, and as soon as I sat down, both kids hopped out of their seats simultaneously and crawled into my lap. I thought they were going to start telling what they wanted for Christmas. It was crazy. I kept talking about stuff, and trying to glance around to figure out where any adult might be, but it was dark, and it was difficult to figure it out. I was running out of stuff to say, and I knew I had to get up soon to do something at the control panel. Luckily they were small kids, and I picked each one up, and redeposited each to his and her respective chairs. It was as if they were sloths or koalas, they just kind of stayed where I put them without another sound.
The best part of a special ed show is always the question and answer session at the end. These kids did not disappoint...
I asked if there were any questions, and one girl raised her hand and said, "Do you know where my friend is?"
I honestly had no clue. I guess from now on I will have to be more specific. I really meant: "Are there any questions about space for which you do not currently know the answer but perhaps I might?" This girl made a more general interepretation of the original query.
I told her, "Nope. I have no idea."
She pointed across the room at a girl sitting on the opposite side and said, "She's right there!" They waved to each other as if one was on a dockside and the other was on a cruise bound for a tropical island, and they laughed and laughed. All the kids, and a few of the parents joined in.
Once that settled down, another kid raised her hand. I knew it couldn't be good. She asked, "Do you know where my daddy is?"
OK, I have to take a moment to let you in on how sick I am. My brain has some worst-case-scenario flaw, because all I could think was Please don't let him be dead. Please!
I decided to play the game. "...at work?" I offered.
"Nope!" she told me with glee.
I looked around the room. All of the adults were female, so he wasn't in the room. "...at home?" I tried.
"Nope!" she said, and giggled some. There was a whole chorus of giggling that joined in.
The options were swiftly narrowing, and I did want to confront my worst-case possibility. I had run out of ideas. "I don't know," I told her.
"Me neither!" she exclaimed, and she started laughing and a whole bunch of kids joined in.
It kind of freaked me out, mainly because I got no answer to clear up the Please don't let him be dead brainwaves that still coursed through my skull. And that was it. No resolution at all for me! I hope somebody shows up to rock me to sleep tonight...