The Zen of Discipline
I had a group of Kindergarten kids on Friday. I swear they seem younger every time I see them.
The kids seemed pretty good, just a little chatty as they got settled. I stepped up to introduce myself, and start the program. One of the teachers saw that I was doing that, and stepped up also to quiet the kids down.
She said to them, "OK, kids. The man needs to hear your quiet now."
'Hear your quiet??' Does quiet make a sound? It seemed like a terribly odd turn of phrase, especially directed at grammar-molding children.
Now that they've left, do I see their disappearance?
Thursday, March 03, 2005
The New Science.
I had one of my favorite groups come back! The Kent Place school is a private school for girls, and they always bring the smartest 4th graders I get to see. I actually made sure I didn't schedule a show directly after them because they ALWAYS have question -- good questions.
We were talking about a mission called Deep Impact which is going to use an 800 pound bullet to blow a giant hole in the side of a comet. There are ALWAYS questions about this mission, and this group certainly had a bunch of questions.
Usually, I get asked about if the bullet will knock the comet off course. (It will not.)
One of these girls asked that question, and I answered like I usually do: "This comet will be large enough that the 800 pound bullet will have the same effect as a mosquito hitting the windshield of a car. If a mosquito hits the windshield, does the car slow down?"
"NO!" they all yell back. Which is what I expect.
"Actually, that's not true... the car DOES slow down. It HAS TO. Ever action has an equal and opposite reaction. The car slows down, but it does so immeasurably. It will be similar with the comet. It will slow down a miniscule bit. Like the car does -- almost not at all. But the car does have to slow down. That's physics."
I then stood there proudly grinning as that set in, content that I have transferred a tiny bit of knowledge.
The girl who asked the question was really thoughtful for a second, and then asked, "Well, what if physics is wrong?"
Wow. Brilliant. "That's possible," I told her. "We're still learning about the universe around us -- we've made physics to help us explain things. And sometimes we're wrong."
She just grinned at me and nodded at me with an expression that indicated she knew that's where the conversation would end -- it looked content that she had transferred to me a tiny bit of knowledge.
I had one of my favorite groups come back! The Kent Place school is a private school for girls, and they always bring the smartest 4th graders I get to see. I actually made sure I didn't schedule a show directly after them because they ALWAYS have question -- good questions.
We were talking about a mission called Deep Impact which is going to use an 800 pound bullet to blow a giant hole in the side of a comet. There are ALWAYS questions about this mission, and this group certainly had a bunch of questions.
Usually, I get asked about if the bullet will knock the comet off course. (It will not.)
One of these girls asked that question, and I answered like I usually do: "This comet will be large enough that the 800 pound bullet will have the same effect as a mosquito hitting the windshield of a car. If a mosquito hits the windshield, does the car slow down?"
"NO!" they all yell back. Which is what I expect.
"Actually, that's not true... the car DOES slow down. It HAS TO. Ever action has an equal and opposite reaction. The car slows down, but it does so immeasurably. It will be similar with the comet. It will slow down a miniscule bit. Like the car does -- almost not at all. But the car does have to slow down. That's physics."
I then stood there proudly grinning as that set in, content that I have transferred a tiny bit of knowledge.
The girl who asked the question was really thoughtful for a second, and then asked, "Well, what if physics is wrong?"
Wow. Brilliant. "That's possible," I told her. "We're still learning about the universe around us -- we've made physics to help us explain things. And sometimes we're wrong."
She just grinned at me and nodded at me with an expression that indicated she knew that's where the conversation would end -- it looked content that she had transferred to me a tiny bit of knowledge.
No New Tale to Tell.
Yesterday I had a 5th grade group from a local Catholic school. I remembered this group from last year because they had asked specifically for stuff about using the sky for navigation, like Columbus did in 1492.
I moved the sky to the Southeastern US, and showed how the North Star can be used to both show the direction of North, and how its height above the horizon also indicates how far North you are. This year, I decided to go further, and show them how navigation is different in the southern hemisphere (no "South Star", for example).
I had some stuff set up with some African myths related to the night sky, and told the story of Tutlwa, the giraffe, who helps the Venda know when to plant crops.
At the end of the show, one of the parents came up to me and said, "I was here last year, and I was SO hoping you would tell the giraffe story again. It's my favorite. And I brought my son" (she pointed at a 4ish-year old next to her) "and even dressed him in a giraffe shirt!" This was indeed, the case.
The problem with her statement: I MADE THAT STORY UP 2 WEEKS AGO. It doesn't exist. It's fake. There IS a Tutlwa constellation related to a giraffe, BUT I MADE UP THE STORY. I used the picture as a springboard to make up a Kipling-esque story about the giraffe having a short neck, and how it got long -- it was a cute story, but it's a pretty recent invention.
It was so strange. And I'm quite sure I've NEVER told any other story related to giraffes.
It's freaking me out just a little bit.
Yesterday I had a 5th grade group from a local Catholic school. I remembered this group from last year because they had asked specifically for stuff about using the sky for navigation, like Columbus did in 1492.
I moved the sky to the Southeastern US, and showed how the North Star can be used to both show the direction of North, and how its height above the horizon also indicates how far North you are. This year, I decided to go further, and show them how navigation is different in the southern hemisphere (no "South Star", for example).
I had some stuff set up with some African myths related to the night sky, and told the story of Tutlwa, the giraffe, who helps the Venda know when to plant crops.
At the end of the show, one of the parents came up to me and said, "I was here last year, and I was SO hoping you would tell the giraffe story again. It's my favorite. And I brought my son" (she pointed at a 4ish-year old next to her) "and even dressed him in a giraffe shirt!" This was indeed, the case.
The problem with her statement: I MADE THAT STORY UP 2 WEEKS AGO. It doesn't exist. It's fake. There IS a Tutlwa constellation related to a giraffe, BUT I MADE UP THE STORY. I used the picture as a springboard to make up a Kipling-esque story about the giraffe having a short neck, and how it got long -- it was a cute story, but it's a pretty recent invention.
It was so strange. And I'm quite sure I've NEVER told any other story related to giraffes.
It's freaking me out just a little bit.