Some Big Little Kids...

I did a show for an adult group home today. It's always quite fun. I've had a variety of abilities before, and it's difficult to guess at how functional they will be. I had their reservation form which included the following note:

These individuals function on roughly 1^st - 3^rd grade level. They may understand that stars can be seen at night.

This does not suggest a very high functioning group to me.

Orientation is occurring on campus, so it's not very crowded, especially on the walkway towards the Planetarium. They were strung out in a long line -- 8 patients, and 3 chaperones accompanying them. The first one down to me was a man, I'm guessing around 50 years old, about 5 feet tall, basically completely bald, and he greets me with: "Mary had a seizure. Mary's not coming. Because she had a seizure."

He was very cute, and obviously quite concerned. "I'm sorry to hear that," I told him.

One of the chaperones said, "That's OK, Tony, you don't have to tell him about that."

I said, "It's fine, really!" I turned to the man, and assured him, "Thanks, Tony, for letting me know."

He stuck his hand out to get shaken, and introduced himself, "Hi, I am Stephen."

I tilted my head slightly, and said, "I thought he just called you 'Tony'."

"Yes," he said, "I am Stephen."

I looked at the chaperone, who just shrugged his shoulders.

The sprawled out line eventually came together at the doors. We had introductions all around, there was a Jane and a Darren, but most of their names I regrettable have forgotten already. I beckoned them inside.

The fellow with whom I spoke outside was the last one in. He put out his hand and said, "Hi. I am Anthony."

I said, "Oh! Tony..."

He said, "Yes. But, no. I am Anthony."

I said, "Oh, Anthony. But outside you said you were Stephen."

He got a little flustered as if he had just remembered that he was pretending to have a different named and realized his mistake too late. He shook his head, cleared his throat, stuck out his hand and said, "Hi. I am Jerry."

I looked to the chaperone again, and he, again, just shrugged.

"Well come on in, Jerry!" I said cheerfully. He seemed quite pleased.

The rest were inside the Planetarium, and one of them was impressed with the machinery so much that he screamed. It was supposed to be a happy scream, but it echoed around the room, and freaked out Tony/Anthony/Stephen/Jerry quite a bit. He jumped, and squeezed my bicep with both hands in a vice-grip.

"Whassamatter?" I gasped.

"I'm afraid," Tony said.

"Itssokay," I told him. I had eyes wide open in fear and pain, pouring silent emotion to the chaperone to help me. I didn't want to say anything out loud, and scare Tony any more than he already was.

He let go, "I'm scared. I'm scared." He repeated it a few times.

One of the other patients started yelling, "I'm scared! I'm scared!" In a semi-mocking tone. She actually sounded like some who may have had Tourette Syndrome; it sounded like a mimic reflex.

And it did not help Tony's mental state at all. He just started yelling, "No. No. No." over and over.

They tried to sit him down, but he was just not having it. He decided he could stand, and was quiet when the staff members told them that later he could have a Pepsi.

When it started to get dark, he was not happy. He would yell, and a few in the group would join in. I leaned in to one of the staff members and asked, "What should I do?"

"Just talk loud," she told me.

Okey dokey.

When I first put up the huge picture of the moon, Tony's "No. No." chant turned into "Oh. Oh. Oh..." I went over to talk about the moon and stood next to him, and he told me, "I am going to be getting a Pepsi. Can you hold my hand?" Hey, I figured if he wouldn't yell anymore that I would do anything; holding the hand of another full-grown man was nothing.

I got done talking about the moon, and I whispered, "Tony, I need to go back to the control panel."

"I am Jerry," he told me.

"OK, but you need to let go of my hand now." He did. I went and proceeded, but every time I would talk about a planet or a constellation I would stop by and check on Tony. And every time, he asked me to hold his hand. Occasionally I would need my hand to use the laser pointer, and in that event either he would grip my arm, or have a hand around my back, hand on the opposite shoulder.

The show went OK -- I'm not sure how much they got out of it, content-wise, but I'm sure it was a great day out, and something different than what they are used to. It was certainly a brain stimulant.

As the lights are coming up, Tony's smile was in direct proportion with how much light there was. Finally, they could all see, and started stirring in their seats. Tony turned to me and stuck his hand out, greeting-style, and with a huge grin said, "Hi. I am Bill."

I said, "Hi! See? The show wasn't so bad! You had fun, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," he assured me. He turned to one of the chaperones and said, "I made it!!"

He said, "You sure did, Tony."

"I made it!!" Tony said again. "I made it!!" he said as he walked towards the door.

He was the first one to the exit, and as I opened the door for him, he burst through and yelled "I made it!!"

Right outside the door was an orientation tour, waiting to go to the Career Services office across the hall. These were all young, pre-freshman, being inundated with college information. They are full of anxiousness at this next step in their academic lives, and have just been informed that they will need to actually do work here at college; for some of them it will be the first time in their lives. I can only imagine what was going through their mind as a 50 year old man burst through the door next to them screaming, "I made it!!"

I can only imagine they were thinking, "Holey moley, if it took him this long to graduate, I had better study."

I Hate Mars...

*-grumble-* *-grumble-* Stupid Mars. Coming closer to the Earth than it has been in 60,000 years or so. Getting everyone all riled up. Wondering when I'm going to open the Planetarium so they can see Mars through it. A Planetarium does not serve this function. A Planetarium is a sky simulator, there is no telescopy involved at all.

Urg.

I'm getting so many e-mails that I thought there was some new version of the So Big virus which contained the subject "Viewing Mars" or "Mars observation" or "Mars?". I get about 1000 of these emails a day. All of them asking what I am going to do about our conjunction with Mars. I am so tired of answering each individually that I am just cut-and-paste-ing this reply:

Dear Mars-Interested Person:

This has been quite a common question lately!

We aren't doing anything special here -- we just have the Planetarium, which is a projector that shows the stars in the dome theater. We don't have an observatory here, so it's not as if we can show you Mars through a telescope or anything.

So sorry!

--- Mr. Astronomy Guy

I am thinking of changing that to:

Dear Mars-Interested Person:

What do you mean "What am I doing about Mars?"? I'm living it up! I'm spending all my money on liquor and whores! We are getting so close to the planet Mars that we are certain to collide! That is, if the Martian invaders don't get us first! Live it up! The Earth will only be around for 72 more hours!

Doomsday has arrived!

If I were you, I'd run out and buy a helmet.

--- Mr. Astronomy Guy

OK, perhaps I'll keep the original version.

The phone calls are no better. Whenever the phone rings, my butt cheeks clench in fear of what I know the conversation will be like... A very slight paraphrase of part of an actual phone conversation:

**-ring-** **-ring-**

Me: "Good afternoon. Planetarium. This is Mr. Astronomy Guy."

Overly Excited Person (O.E.P.): "Hi! When are you having something about Mars?!?!" She was talking very quickly and loudly, as if she had just ingested a large amount of crack cocaine. I have come to refer to this as Mars Frenzy. It's an ailment that is going around.

Me: "I always talk about Mars. It's included in every program I do." I'm such a sarcastic bastard sometimes.

O.E.P.: "But the Mars thing! It's in the news! When can I come there and see Mars!?!?"

Me: "We're not an observatory; we don't have a telescope. It's not that kind of facility. I can't show you Mars any better than you can see it at home."

O.E.P.: "You mean I can see Mars from my house?!?!"

Me: "You certainly can. If it's clear, tonight..."

O.E.P. (interrupting): "...tonight?!?!"

Me: "Yes, tonight. After the sun goes down..."

O.E.P. (interrupting): "...when it's dark out?!?!"

Me: "Right. After dark. A couple hours after dark is best.. around 11:00 or so. Just go outside..."

O.E.P. (interrupting): "...I have to go outside!?!?"

Me: "Right. Outside. Just look to the southeast..."

O.E.P. (interrupting): "...which way is southeast?!?!?"

Me: "It depends on where you are. Do you have a compass?"

O.E.P.: "I think my son does."

Me (realizing this may need clarification): "I don't mean the thing to draw circles."

O.E.P.: "Oh. Then, no."

Me: "Maybe you could ask a neighbor to help you find southeast...?"

O.E.P.: "Do you think they might have a compass?!?!"

Me: *-sigh-* "Perhaps."


I'm probably just being astronomically pompous, but it's really wearing me down. While I was typing this the phone rang, and it was a wrong number. I was thrilled! No Mars question!

The Mars closeness is kind of a big deal, but it has been hyped up so much. Through a backyard telescope, Mars, at its 60,000 year best, is nowhere near as good as either Jupiter or Saturn appear at their worst.

Here's some non-frenzy-causing info about how Mars will appear...

ADDENDUM: OOH! OOH! I realized a good analogy. At least it seems good right now -- let's see how it works: The Mars approach is a lot like when your car's odometer turns to 100,000 miles! It sounds very cool, and you are very excited as it approaches, but once you've seen the numbers turn over, you are rather nonplussed. The fact that Mars is closer than it has been in 60,000 years is exactly like that!

Sometime You Just Can't Argue

A couple Blogs ago I mentioned a group that told me that they saw robots, and people, and heaven up in the stars. They were all about 4 years old, and later in the show, there was one kid who made a good point...

I was showing the moon. I discussed the mares and craters. We talked about the fact that there are so many craters because there is really no air around the moon.

One kid yelled out in the middle: "What about aliens?"

"What about them?" I asked back.

"Are there aliens on the moon?" he clarified.

"Nope. Nothing could live on the moon. Remember when we talked about the craters?" I reminded him.

"Uh-huh," he said.

"We said there was no air, right?"

"Uh-huh," he said again.

"So what would the aliens breathe?!" I asked, triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that he would get the point immediately.

"Well," he said, matter-of-factly, "isn't it possible that aliens might not need to breathe like us?"

Hmmm. "So far as we know," I told him, "everything needs to breathe in some fashion in order to live."

"Well, so far as we know..."

How could I say differently? I decided to let him have the last word.

Stood UP!

Last night I was supposed to be doing a show for 2 people. TWO PEOPLE! I will actually do a show for as few as one, you just have to pay me the $50 minimum. Anyway, I had a couple of shows I wasn't real happy with during the day (the Blog below this discusses a not-that-bad part -- I will try to Blog the rest of the insanity bits later). And the guy was supposed to be there at 7:00 with his girlfriend. He had apparently purchased a star for her. He asked if I could maybe show her the star...

The answer is, of course, NO.

People ask me all the time if the Star Registry thing is real. Of course it's real. It's not a scam, and it's kind of a nice thing to do for someone who might find it a nice thing to be done. Nobody is going to go around called the star you picked "Brad" or "Chloe", but there is a note made of it in a central location, and the person feels all mushy and oogy that some eternal beacon in the sky has been dedicated to him or her. The feelings are real, so that makes the rest of it real.

On a good night of stargazing in a suburban area you MIGHT see about 2500 stars with the naked eye. ALL OF THESE ALREADY HAVE NAMES. Sorry, you're not getting one of those.

With a small telescope, if you could freeze time and scan the whole sky, you might be able to increase the number of stars to 25,000. All of these are done, too. There are actually at least 300,000 which already have important catalogue names. You're not getting one of those, either.

There's somewhere near 100 billion OTHER stars in the Milky Way, which are not visible with the naked eye, and tough to pick out with a precision scope -- you're going to get one of those. Maybe if you hitch a ride on the Hubble, you can point out your star.

I explained this to the dude who was coming, and also explained that it would just be his lady, him, and myself in there. And I would be doing a little lecture. Not very romantic, and I would kind of be a third wheel. He didn't care... he thought it would be a sweet and wonderful idea.

Except for the fact that he never showed up! Usually I got out of work around 4:00pm. His show was supposed to start at 7:00pm. By 7:10 I was a little annoyed. By 7:25 I was downright raging. I left him a swell message on his cell phone about how I "hoped everything was OK, and nothing bad happened."

Basically, what I meant was, "Where are you, you little freak? I waited around for 4 extra hours. I had some disdain for the fact that I was doing it for TWO people. Now that I did it for NO people, I kind of want to choke you."

I didn't even totally give up on him until 8:05. I was really wishing some powerful misfortune on him by that point.

I'll feel really guilty if something bad ACTUALLY happened.

Variations on a Theme

Guess what? More four year olds! Ack. And I mean: Ack.

They arrived late, and less than half of what I was expecting showed up. There were 12 of them. TWELVE KIDS!! Well, compared to the show I am going to be doing in about 45 minutes, it's not too bad. That one will only have 2 attendees. I have stayed for 4 hours after work for TWO stinking people. But I digress...

They showed up all wound up. They finally settled down. I introduced myself, and said hello to them, and they all tried to say my name. They did not have much success, so I told them to call me Mr. Astronomy Guy. That was MUCH worse. I told them that "the maintenance people call me Starman. I suppose you could call me that." Oops. The cheer rose up: "Star-MAN! Star-MAN! Star-MAN!" I guess they liked that. And, really, it's not bad to get a peppy cheer sung at you every once in a while.

I dimmed the lights and said that they might start seeing some starts soon.

One kid said, "I see the sun!" There was no sun projected -- perhaps he was just referring to the light filling the room.

I said, "Well, you don't actually see The Sun. We are just pretending there is sunlight, and pretending that the sun is going down."

"I see the sun!" Another kid said.

**--sigh--** "I guess you do," I told him. I've been giving up a lot easier lately.

"I see a robot!" was the next one.

For some reason, I decided to go with it. I knew struggling with it would just make it worse. "Where?" I asked.

"Right there!" the kid said, just pointing in the general direction of UP.

"Oh. Wow." I said.

"I see people!" the next kid told me.

"Really!" I said, genuinely excited. "That's awesome!"

Now some actual stars were appearing. They got quiet as they started to notice it.

One of them whispered, in a very breathy voice, and with true awe,         _{"I see heaven."}

I decided not to encourage it any more. I thought it might get a little to deep for conversations with pre-schoolers.

Another Break in the Blog

Sorry for a long wait for updates, Blogophiles. I've had a couple shows, but it has been kind of quiet around here as the summer has been coming to a close.

I did have some shows a couple weekends ago that I wanted to talk about... not about the show, but a flaw I have found in working at a Planetarium which doesn't have any automated systems -- only my voice. The problem: If you do six wild shows in rapid succession, your voice goes away!

I had 3 shows on Friday, and then 3 on Saturday. Around show #2 on Friday, my voice started to fade. I think I can still feel the after effects. My throat still has a dull ache.

I was doing a storytelling show; it was part of my Shapes in the Sky shows, which are for kids 4 to 8 years old.

{OK, OK... stop yelling! YES, after all my complaining about little kids, I actually write, design, produce and perform shows made exclusively for them.]

Anyway, one of the stories had a rabbit, and owl, and a buffalo. Yes, I do different little voices for all of them. The rabbit had a little squeaky voice, so he was kind of easy to do, and continue to do even after my voice was gone. The owl had a sort of hooty voice. It wasn't too bad after my voice went, it just sounded like the owl was very far away. However, once my voice faded away, I could not pull off the buffalo. He's supposed to be a giant animal, bulky and forceful, strong enough to tear down the sky. My voice-loss buffalo sounded more like a mid-pubescent 73 pound weakling, who had recently been pummeled and wedgied by the cool kids.

It did make for an entertaining show -- both kids and adults laughed hard, even though it wasn't supposed to be the funny part -- but I would rather not have to go through that again.

Searching For a Happy Medium

Most of these Blogs have included me whining about the little kids, and especially about those entrusted with their care. I usually want the adults who accompany the groups to do some sort of chaperoning.

But today, it went way too far.

First of all, the group was supposed to be 22, but with people on vacation, etc., the group contained 11 children. Definitely not worth my while, but I've done programs for as few as two. There were 4 adults accompanying these 11 children - a fine ratio in my book! The kids ranged in age from three years old, all the way up to four years old. My regular readers will know how I feel about this age group.

The only thing I have for kids this age are big bright pictures on the dome, and making them laugh. If I can make them laugh, and look in the general direction of the ceiling, I feel I have succeeded with a group of three year olds.

Normally, they are a little chatty as I run up to the control panel and get things going. They are pointing at the equipment and the big dome and murmuring excitedly. This time, it was eerily silent. I should have been happy! But, it just freaked me out, just a little. One kid started to say something... though I have no idea what it was because the teacher next to him went, "SSHHHHHH!!!"

The show began, and the kids conitnued being totally silent. I usually shut myself up as the lights go down -- the kids are too enthralled by the stars appearing to pay any attention to me, and usually they are making "OOh" and "AAh" sounds. This is the best way to get their attention, and I can get a feel for the excitedness level of the crowd.

This time: silence. DEAD silence. The chaperones must have either (a) issued qualludes to the children on the way to the show, or (b) threatened them with bodily harm. This kids were dead silent. I was starting to worry. The lights were about 1/2 way down, and there were a hundred or so stars visible, so I decided to break the silence: "Does anybody see any stars up there yet?"

["YE..."] They started to answer, but then ["SSSSSSHHHH!"] they were cut off. Why? I asked them a question! They're doing it right!! They were supposed to answer!!

I continued on and talked about craters on the moon. I told them that rocks smack into the moon and leave those little dents. To illustrate it, I waved my laser pointer around and then smacked it into the moon, complete with sound effects made be me... "VRRRREEEAAARMM --- PKKKOOOSSSH!" OK, I know there's no sound in space, and probably no discernible noise as it crashes into the moon, but it's a hilarious effect to any four year old. The kids started laughing, but stopped quickly as they got "SSSSSHHHHH!"ed.

The rest of the show had no interaction at all. It was a lecture. That's no fun! I think a couple kids fell asleep.


I either get no assistance at all, or discipline nazis! Someday I hope a group comes with just the right about of behavior modification. Someday...

A Public Service Announcement

The writer of this Blog would like to take a moment to address a Planetarium safety concern.

Please do not bring children under the age of 3 into the Planetarium. If you absolutely must do this, please leave the child in a stroller, or in your lap, or, at worst, in the seat next to you. Please do not, under any circumstances, leave the child on the floor. This astronomer is a dynamic one, and jumps and runs and flails throughout his Planetarium programs. True, you can't see him, so it doesn't make too much sense, but he can't help it. He is a spaz. A child on the floor is a child in peril.

---

I had a parent come in, and drop a baby on the floor. It was just sitting there gnawing on some teethy thing. I'm not sure how old, but those of you who are child savvy may be able to give it a ballpark figure if you know: the baby could sit up. It could lean forward. It could not crawl, but could get on all fours and lean forward and back. What is that? One year old?

Anyway, I wandered around the room as I normally do. The first time I kicked the child, I thought it was a purse or a knapsack. It didn't say anything at all. (NOTE: Usually during the show, I am not wearing my shoes -- I kick them off to more stealthily roam the dome... so, the baby just got kicked with socked feet, not steel-toed boots or anything.) The second time, my foot actually made it under one of the baby's legs, and as I took a step away, I kind of flipped it onto it's back. I heard a sound which caused me panic, because I though the baby was crying. Apparently it was just laughing. I leaned down to the closest adult and said, "Ohmigosh! I think I just stepped on your baby!"

"She seems fine," the mother told me. "She thinks it's funny!" I can never tell if a baby is screaming in pain or in glee.

"OK, but can you move her please?" I asked.

"Sure," she told me.

I meant "up and off the floor". Apparently she though that just moving the child 6 inches over was enough.

The third step-upon caused me to just pick the baby up and hand it to the mother. "You dropped this," I told her.

I Didn't Know I Could Say That...

You know I had little kids again today, and you know I've got something to tell about it.

They were from a Day Care/Summer Program. These kids ranged in age from 3 years old to 9 years old. This is probably the most challenging age range to try to address all at once. The years between 3 and 9 are probably the years in which the most development of a person occurs. It is likely that you develop more in that span than in the entire rest of your life combined.

So it is not surprising that when I was saying something of interest to the 9 year olds, the 3 year olds were yammering away, and vice versa.

At one point, I was discussing the fact that Venus is kind of a nasty place. I mentioned the vicious temperatures, the crushing pressure, and the horrid acidic atmosphere. One girl just started scream-crying. I wasn't too far away when it happened and I was quite concerned. It sounded like she had been stabbed. I asked her what the matter was, and the older girl sitting next to her told me, "I think she's scared of Venus." The older girl was quite matter-of-fact about it -- she seemed completely unconcerned that the young lass next to her was screaming so loud that she was about to throw a tonsil.

Perhaps my Venus details were a bit too graphic. I didn't think so... I thought it was about the same level that I always use. But possibly, this time, I laid it on too thick. But that never happened before! Ah, well, live and learn.

Now that I think about it, I think it was rather recently that I had caused another child to cry. I should get one of those signs like they have in factories: "XX days since an accident." Mine will say "XX days since accidentally causing a child to weep."

Right now, that number would be zero.

Only a few seconds of crying occurred before the girl was escorted out by a conscientious adult, so it was OK.


They kids were sort of rowdy, throughout. It wasn't the worst ever, but it certainly was not the best. At the end of the program, as they were leading the kids away, one woman came up to me and told me how wonderful the show had been. I was worried she was approaching me to scold me for scaring one of her children witless.

"We were here a couple years ago, and the kids were kind of crazy," she told me. I got news for you, lady, they were crazy this time. If they were crazier last time, I pity who was ever here then. "The astronomer who was here then told us that this might not be a good trip for this age group, that it really didn't seem appropriate for them, and told us to not make a reservation again."

I was stunned. You can say that?!? Why didn't I think of that?! That is great! When the kids are rowdy I can just tell them that they can't come back.

My job just got a lot easier. Or at least will get a lot easier once I've grown a spine.

The Little Ones Strike Again...

OK, I apologize porofusely for the repetitiveness of the Blogs here! There have been so many tiny kids lately -- it's really all I have to talk about -- kids say the darndest things, I guess.

The 4&5 year olds came tottering in and sat down. I did my little intro, and asked if there were any last questions before we got going. One kid raised his hand and asked, "Is today done yet?"

The whole day?! This was 9:30 AM, it was quite evident to me, at least, that there was much more of the day to go. Indeed, more to go than had elapsed so far.

I told him, "No, we have a bunch of time left in the day."

He said, "C'mon. I'm hungry."

I said, "Sit tight -- I bet later there's a snack time!" I have no idea where that came from. And all of a sudden I got nervous. What if there was no snack time? I glanced at a teacher, and she kind of nodded. I hopped that meant that there would be a snack time.

Well, I proceeded into the show... one of the constellations I discuss this time of year is Cygnus, the swan. I circled the area of the sky with my little laser pointer and said: "This is Cygnus, the swan. Does anyone know what a swan is?"

"A lizard!" one boy yelled out.

"No, it's not a lizard," I corrected him.

"Are you sure? he asked.

"Quite sure," I told him. "These are its wings," I pointed them out with my pointer, "and this is where its head is," I pointed that out with my pointer, "and it looks like this!" and I superimposed to picture of the swan upon the stars, with pomp and flair!

"Oh!" the boy said, "It's a beaver bird."

I was not sure I heard him correctly. "A what?" I asked.

"A beaver bird," he decidedly told me.

"What is a beaver bird?" I asked him.

"That," he told me pointing at the pisture.


It's like they speak a whole other language. I need a 5-Year-Old to English dictionary. I'd volunteer to make one, but even after all this time I don't understand one dang word they're saying!

I Will Have to Start a Show Rating System...

[This is my first Crossover Blog! It appeared in this Blog, as well as my other one. Sorry for the redundancy, but it works for both. Is this just a cheap and lazy way to add an entry to both Blogs? Of course!]

Why do all the myths and legends of the night sky have to do with violence and horror and perverse sexuality??

Every other month I do a storytellting show for little kids in the Planetarium... I have to search around for kid-safe stories. When it comes to classic myths and legends, there are VERY few. It doesn't matter what culture it was, the ancient people's had exclusively adult content when it came to constellation stories.

Here's a couple examples:

A Native American story goes like this:

"The Coyote liked to show off to the girls by juggling his eyeballs. One day he threw one so high it stuck in the sky."

You just can't tell that to 3 year olds!

We could go with the standard Greek stories, but those are filled with adultery, incest, murder and lies! Vicious murders and lies! AND, apparently the major Greek gods were members of NAMBLA:

"Ganymede is the young, beautiful boy that became one of Zeus’ lovers."

I really don't want to support man-god-boy love in my shows.

The Asian cultures were just as bad. They have tons of stories, as well. Many are interesting, of course, but I just can't use them. Like this:

"A particular myth tells of when the man in the moon (Kidili) attempted to rape the first woman, Wati-kutjara threw a magical boomerang which severed the rapist's genitals."

For a children's show, I try to avoid the words 'severed', 'rapist', AND 'genitals'.

Top 5 Indicators That the Kids are Too Young...

I had a group of kids yesterday that were all less than 5 years old. This is too young! I know I've said it before, but this show had a bunch of things that I jotted down, all during a single show, that tells me that this age group is too young. I would like to share the top 5 with you right now...

Number 5: Four minutes into the program I had a kid say "Can you turn the lights back on?" I ignored it.

Two minutes after that he reiterated the sentiment: "Lights on? Lights back on?"

One minute past that, it got panicky: "LIGHTS!! LIIIIIGHHHTS ONNNN!!!!"

Mom (or other responsible adult next to him that seemed like Mom) told him, "In a minute, honey."

We had at least forty minutes to go.


Number 4: About ten minutes into the program, another kid said, matter-of-factly: "OK. Can we go home now?" It wasn't the best performance evaluation I had ever had...


Number 3: As we were watching a rocket lift off and zoom away towards Mars, one of the kids asked, "But how's he gonna get back to his house?"

"A rocket doesn't live in a house," I told him.

"Where does a rocket live?" he asked me.

It was a tough one, really. "Most of them live in Florida," I told him.

"Oh," he said.


Number 2: The rocket payload's final destination was Mars. The Mars Exploration Rover majestically unfolded and began doing it's business on Mars. Whenever it would move, the kids would start going, "Chugga, chugga, chugga, chugga," locomotive-style. Even the teachers joined in.


And the Number 1 thing that is said during a Planetarium show to indicate that the kids there are too young: About two-thirds of the way through the show I realized that I had just not been reaching these kids. Forty minutes into the program, during a quiet moment right before I put up a new slide, one of them asked, "What is this place?"

I Thought This Was a Field Trip...

Another young group (I'm a broken record, I know) came in today. They were 5 and 6 years old from some community school. I did my usual deal -- I stopped them outside the building and gave them the "Be Quiet" speech...

"Remember you guys, were about to go into a school, and there are classes going on right now..."

The boy who was about 10th in line said, "This is school?! We're going to school...?" His chin started to quiver. And he started to cry.

I have set a new record! Less than 20 words came out of my mouth, and already I caused a child to cry.

The teacher who was next to him was trying to get him to stop crying, but it wasn't working since she was cracking up at the time. I couldn't hold a straight face either. "We're not going to school," I told him, between snorts and giggles, "We're going into the Planetarium! It will be fun!"

He seemed unconvinced.

We went on in, and apparently NO ONE in the group wanted to be inside of a school. They were yammering on throughout the show. For much of it they were yelling out things related to the show, but occassionally they'd get inappropriately rowdy.

I just want a teacher to yell at the kids to help them be quiet. Just once. That's all I ask! Just once.

As they were lining up to leave at the very end, one of the teachers yelled, "Alright, here we go. And when we go out I don't want to hear one word in the hallway!" And they were all silent.

CORRECTION: I just want a teacher to yell at the kids to help them be quiet during the show. Just once. That's all I ask! Just once.