It's a new year! The Welcome Back Bash is on WEDNESDAY, September 22, 2010, from 11:00 am to 3:00 pm. We'll be playing the whole time, and then, probably move on into the Student Center to play more.

Stop by to play, for information, and to help us decide when the best times to meet are....

Who knows, there may be some prizes, and surprises.

The new Planetarium is coming along quite well. I believe my coding is coming close to exceeding what they ever intended, which is awesome.

My first school shows are TOMORROW, so expect wonderful stories again starting then.

(I'm also supposed to get dunked in a dunk tank in between shows... Yipes.)

I just had a faculty member walk by and ask if I was "...over the Planetarium."

I wanted to say either: "No, I'm right next to it, like you are."

Or: "Yeah. It was a tough breakup and I was hurting for a bit. But I'm over it now."


I didn't -- just looked at her with a stupid looking trying not to be a wiseass. She obviously could see my anguish and explained, "I mean, do you RUN the Planetarium?"

Whew.

Took a breath: "Yeah, that's me."

Hey. I'm keeping my mouth shut instead of being an ass. It's an improvement!

THE WAIT IS OVER!!! After many long months of being shut down, we have reopening with a mind-boggling Digistar 4 system, and it is truly tremendous.

My first real show is in a few moments. It's for "Take Your Kids to Work Day", which is always horrific.

But I should be able to wow them now.

And I should be getting brand new stories to tell. Thank goodness. It's been quiet around here for a long while.....

...

..... too quiet.

My last post was October of 2008... ? Yowch.

Just had a group from a camp called Eco-Explorers. They were between 7 and 9 years old and kind of rowdy.

A lot of times I ask silly questions to lighten the mood, make it fun, and more interactive. I'll mention that Mars is "way colder than your freezer," and then I'll ask "Can you live in the freezer?"

They'll sometimes chime back "No", or, if they are wiseasses (like this group), yell "Yes!" just to be annoying. It's cool, I roll with it.

I'll often come back with "Stay out of the freezer! You're not ice cream!"

Usually a couple of the wiseass crew will just want to egg me on with: "Yes I am!"

I'll say, "Oh, yeah? What flavor?!"

Usually they'll just yell back their favorite flavor of mint chocolate chip or cookie dough.

This time, I went through that whole exchange above and when I asked about the flavor, one kid yelled back, "People!"

I lost it... fell to the floor cackling.

Well, they've started to come back! I've had some months off, and my first visiting school group of the school year came by...

It was a 5th grade group. They were a little excitable, but not too bad, and mostly appropriate.

I started by talking about the moon. It's a good way to get the lights down quick, with a picture of a big moon up there, eyes can adjust to the dark a little more easily.

The teacher mentioned that they were talking about meteors. The moon is a good way to segue into that. I talk about the moon's craters, and how they are caused by asteroids flying in and smacking up the surface.

I then ask them, "Well, if the moon is being beat up by rocks, and is our closest next-door neighbor in space, is that something we should be worried about here on Earth?"

"NO!" they yelled back, which is what I expected.

"Well, we do need to worry about BIG asteroids. But really, most asteroids that head towards the Earth, we don't need to worry about, because we have a protection around the Earth that The Moon really doesn't have. What is it...?"

Usually 5th graders know it's the atmosphere. And this was a smart group. But it just got quiet for a second, until one brave soul ventured: "...Life Insurance??"

I updated the Blog template to use the newish, groovy, template editor in Blogger. Maybe it will motivate me to blog more often.

Actually probably not for a while, it gets REAL quiet around here in September...

Stay tuned!

This is just a quick entry... not sure how I could mangle it into a full story; it's a random odd comment by a visitor.

I have a group visit today from The Tabernacle of Our Lord Jesus Christ. (This is not going to end with anything religiously odd. This time...) The show went pretty fine, and at the end I show a little music video from a DVD hooked up to a digital projector. When I pull the lenscap off the front of the front of the projector, they can see the DVD menu for a second before I hit 'play'.

When that showed up on the dome, one kid yelled out, "OOH! Are we gonna watch XBox 360 commercials?"

Not "Are we gonna play XBox games?" or anything like that, he was just excited at the prospect of watching XBox 360 COMMERCIALS. Seemed odd.

I had a group of first graders yesterday from a camp. They were cool. I got them laughing in all the right places, and got them super, super wound up. they were all bouncy as they left. You're welcome, counselors!

Just a funny moment: I try to keep the kids interacting a little throughtout the show. It's a dark, comfy room. I do my best to keep them awake.

One of the interactions involves me asking simple questions. They can confidently answer, and feel they are part of the program, as well as feel good about knowing something useful in the show.

I was discussing Venus, and mentioning that it has a thick atmosphere. There's usually murmurs of "Ooh, does that mean we could live there...?" as I say that, so I quickly lead into a discussion of the fact that the air is not breathable at all.

So I yell to them, "We have an ingredient in our air that we need in order to breathe...?" I pause at this point in my psuedo-question because sometimes they immediately know what it is and yell it out. First graders sometimes need a tiny little bit more prodding, so I went on with the prompting, "...it starts with an 'O'...?"

A girl sitting right next to me excitedly shouted out, "OCTOPUS!"

We all laughed (including her). When I (and the rest of us) got my breath back, I asked her, "Did you just say...?"

She made a fake pouting face and said in a quiet pouty voice, "yes."

We all laughed again.

This happened a while ago, but I just stumbled across the evidence on my desk, and I haven't made an entry in a while, so I thought I'd jot it down. It made me laugh, but most of the other people I let in on this are shocked and horrified. You be the judge!

A couple weeks ago I had a group of third graders here. It was a good group, and this report actually has nothing to do with the show itself. It was after the show, when I was drifting around the Planetarium hoping to find some dropped money to offset rising gas prices. (Current money collected over 6.3 years: $53.25... $52 of that all at once in a wallet. Which I DID turn into Lost and Found, but after 60 days of no claimant, posession got turned over to me!) Cash found this time: exactly $0.00. I did, however, find a partially crumbled piece of paper with kid writing on it. A note! Cool! Maybe it'll be something I can turn over to Found Magazine.

I smoothed out the paper. On one end it said, in third grade quality handwriting:

to michelle

Good start... I glanced at the other end, which had simply the following:

oscar likes girls boobs and so does matt

I thought it quite hysterical. But whenever I relay the story to anyone else, at the part where I expect laughter I just get, "THIRD graders!? Oh, that just too young to be thinking about boobs.

I don't care. It's still funny.

I had a group from a place called "Metro Church Summer Camp" this morning. It was an odd start to the day.

First of all, and I don't mean to sound judgy in this next little bit, in the spot on the reservation form where it asks what I should cover in my Planetarium show, they stated the following: "Focus on God's creation of the sun, moon, and planets." Where do I begin with the problems here...?

Let's see: first of all, this is a public Planetarium. Sure, it's a private show for their group, BUT I would imagine they can assume I steer a little clear of topics like that. Folks who chose a career in the astronomical arts RARELY are tied to creationism. Second, and perhaps, more important, even if I DID decide to talk about that, wouldn't that show be rather short?! "Yep, kiddies, God created the sun. And the moon. Planets, too. I guess he chucked those stars up there while he was at it." Long pause. "Isn't that nifty?" What would I do for other 58 minutes??

So when they got here, I figured I'd try to get a handle on what they'd talked about. I should let you know these kids were SMALL. 3 and 4 years old. I found someone who looked to be the adult leader of the group, and watched her settle in to the middle of the group. Once they were all seated I asked her, "So, have you been talking about anything related to space?"

She actually answered: "Oh, yes: Creation." (Geez, she's stuck on this thing. Maybe you could talk about something that happened AFTER that!) And then she said, in what can only be described as a loud whisper, "We're creationists!" She said that last word in such an odd way -- as if she didn't like the taste of it. It's a lot like people who are trying not to sound racist, so when they describe a race they do it in a sort of hushed tone, and it always makes them sound ultra-racist: "He was so helpful to me in the store. And he was a black person."

I asked if they evere thought of mentioning aspects of the moon, stars or planets to her students. She said, "Oh, yeah, we mention those." I decided I'd better just 0start talking rather than ask what was mentioned about them. I imagine it would sound something like: "We tell them they were created by god. We're creationists."

So I talked about the moon. They seemed about as engaged as 3 year olds could be. I moved on and talked about some constellations. I describe Cygnus the Swan, and put his image of a big white swan soaring across the sky up on the dome.

One kid's immediate reaction to that image was: "I wanna eat it!"

"Eat it?" I asked.

"Yeah. Eat it," he said. He said it in kind of a vicious way, like he was actually angry at the bird.

"But it's a swan," I said. "Not like a chicken or a turkey. We don't usually eat swans."

"Don't care!" he said back, still sounding angry. "I wanna eat it!"

I figured I'd better move on.

I showed them Taurus the Bull. Guess what happened when his picture went up? You guessed it: "I wanna eat it!" the kid said again. I asked the adults if the children had skipped snack time today. I was just trying to be funny. There was no response.

For a creationist, this kid was rather hell-bent on destruction.

So I moved on to Orion the Hunter. His image pops up, "I wanna eat him!"

"But that's a PERSON!" I was slightly horrified.

"Don't care. I'll eat him." He was less angry this time, oddly. More matter-of-fact.

Now, I always figured CANNIBALISM was quite against a creationist's ethics. ENOUGH SO that an adult would correct a child expression an interest in eating a human. I was wrong. No one said a thing.

I got a little freaked out as I now imagine I was speaking to a room full of Creationist Carnivorous Cannibalistic Children. I expected them to listen quietly until they were sick of my lecture, and then all rise up as a single horde and devour me, zombie-style on the spot, while the adults looked on with approval.

I mean, as long as they don't suggest that the universe was more that a few thousand years old...! THAT would be disturbing...
( ^--- REALLY obvious sarcasm... )

---

(My brain can be a scary place...)

For me?! Thanks! (sarcastically)

It has been forever since I've updated. Some great stuff has happened, too. I have made notes, and will likely jot down some of the fun stories when I get the chance in the next couple of weeks.

But... just now I had a moment I must write about IMMEDIATELY. I had a group of ECO Explorers stop by. This group comes every year in early summer, and they are always pretty cool. Between seven and nine years old, well-prepared, great chaperons -- basically all the ingredients for a good show. And today was no different. They were laughing at all the right places. They shouted some stuff out, but mostly it was appropriate stuff, and when it wasn't it made me laugh anyway, so it was no big deal.

At the end of the show, as they were filing out, one girl, among the younger ones in the group, and who probably laughed harder during the show than anyone else, came up and stood right next to me...

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Yes?" I said.

"Can I hug you?"

Now, I am not one to suffer from being touched by anything cute, but she was a cute kid, and just wanted to show her appreciation for the show, so I told her, "Sure!" And she did dive right in and clasp me around my legs (she was quite a bit shorter than me). It was very sweet. I gave her a little pat on the back. (Those who know me will be impressed by my incredibly generous response to the hug. Usually I am shrinking back in terror when the kids get a little too close...)

She released me and stepped back to the very same spot she was in before the embrace and looked at me again.

"Can I give you this?" she stretched a fist, holding something, up towards me.

"Sure!" I told her and held out my hand. Cool! I thought. Free toy or something!

She gently placed, in the center of my palm, a greyish-beige ball sized somewhere between a marble and a grape. It had little wrinkly folds in it. I had no idea what it could be. Looked like some kind of clay, maybe.

"What is it?" I asked with an air of wonder, marveling at whatever generous gift I had been given.

"It's a model of Pluto...!" she said proudly.

I nodded. I supposed it could be just that.

"That I made...!" she beamed with pride.

Oh. Cool. Homemade little toy. For me! It was a rather rewarding feeling that I had inspired this child to create something.

She continued, "...from GUM!"

That's when the unmistakable scent of classic Juicy Fruit gum hit my nostrils. This thing had to have been made with at least 3 sticks of it, fully chewed, and now balled up in my palm. ABC* gum. In my hand. Freshly chewed, by the smell of it.

I'm hoping she didn't think I was unappreciative as I reacted to her very generous gift with a high-pitched shriek and a dash for the hall garbage can. I turned my palm over and began thrusting in down towards the garbage. My suspicions of chew-freshness were confirmed by the fact that the Pluto model remained adhered to my palm.

With a little increase of speed and ferocity, I felt the chewed gum let go and heard it plop into the bottom of the garbage bag. With a relieved sigh, I headed back towards the exiting children.

"Did you like it? Wasn't it cool?" the gift-giving girl asked.

"It was cool. But also a little icky..." I told her.

She just nodded and moved on.

The girl behind her came up to me and asked, "Can I hug you, too?"

"OK," I told her, "but no gifts."

---

* - in case you don't remember from grade school: Already Been Chewed.

OK, Ok, this is not Planetarium related, but it IS space related, and it is a question that does come up on a random basis in shows.

So, for all of you out there wondering this very, very important fact...


Created by OnePlusYou

And if you are wondering how long you could do the same, you can find out by clicking on the image above or, right here. By the way, that page is kind of wonky. If you get there and it is blank, refresh it a time or two.

(Note: I'm not sure how scientifically accuarate that thing is...)

Pampered and Pampered

It's been so long once again since I've posted. There has been lots of excitement, but the shows have had the standard sorts of things going on.

I just had a group of what I only knew going in as "special ed kids". Those are my favorites. This group was between the ages of 15 and 18, and they were a little less functioning than I am used to having in the Planetarium. I will give an example to try to show how...

When my reservationist/greeter person asked if, before the show began, anyone needed to use the bathroom, one of the teachers replied, "Oh, no, they're fine. We made sure they were all double diapered before we left school."

DOUBLE diapered.

We actually did have a very fun time. Not sure if the double diapering was a factor in that, but you never know...

Some kind of gnome or something...

At some point in every Planetarium show I spin the sky overhead. I try to warn them a little bit beforehand, because it can get a little disorienting, for sure. As it happens I remind them that this is what the sky would actually look like if the Earth spun faster. "You'd be dizzy all the time!" I like to tell them. They usually chuckle.

The group I had yesterday had a boy who reacted a bit differently. "That'll be cool," he said. "I'm already dizzy all the time."

"That's kind of unfortunate," I said.

"Eh," he just kind of shrugged. No big deal.

Later in the show I had showed all the planets. I just got to Pluto and was about to mention it's less-than-planet status. I said, "If you guys were here last year I would have talked about another planet..."

At this point they usually realize I am talking about Pluto and shout that out.

In case you're living under a large rock, and don't know it, we have decided to call Pluto a Dwarf Planet (turns out I hate that term -- makes it sound that Pluto is too small to be a planet, not true, just turns out we found out Pluto is part of a crowd, b basically another asteroid belt. If we want to call Pluto a planet still, we'd also have to add dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of planets to the list).

Anyway, dwarf planet. Sheesh.

As I was introduced Pluto one kid yelled out, "It's not a planet, it's an elf planet!"

Ooh. So close, dude. So close.

[Read previous blog entry before this one.]

I responded to the e-mail below, and mentioned I couldn't understand a freaking word she said.

Maybe, just maybe, this explains it... Her response, cut-and-pasted:

Thts right cohen hall! Cool my keys on this blackberry r goin down down down! Thanks see ya friday!

I'm not sure exactly what that means. I guess her e-mailing device is not working properly.

I know my brain pain is not going down down down.

I'd like to buy a vowel...

This is one (probably the final one) of a series of e-mails that I have received from someone headed to the Planetarium this Friday night. I just had to blog it, I've taken as much as I can! Wish I saved the others so I could show you how long and atrociously this has been going on.

Cut-and-pasted:

Hey chris... Where is entrance for plnetarium again? Hwhich blding do I enter? It's been a while. Sorry! Also, I received a bill from the college re: this event what shld I do with tht? Lmk when u get. Chance and looking forwrd to seeing u 7:30 sharp!

Now, I know my own blog is riddled with typos. I really don't think this is a case of pot-and-kettle, though. I swear to you I am at least TRYING. This, I think, is typed by a person recovering from heroin.

This is an adult! A PARENT!! I know she has her own small business as an American Sign Language interpreter!!!

What the hell could the sentence "Lmk when u get." even possibly mean?!

My brain hurts.

I had a high school group in today. The show was supposed to be about navigation. I can do that, but not for the whole hour... "There's the North Star. You use it to find North. The higher up it is the more North you are." What do I do for the other 59 minutes and 37 seconds?

Well, I talked about how the sky has been used for lots of reference... map, compass, calendar, illustrated storybook. AND we went on lots of tangents of stuff the kids seemed interested in. I thought it went well. It was actually a fun and interesting show. The kids seemed happy -- however, teachers did not seem thrilled. It's OK, I can't win them all. Or maybe they were happy, and just don't show it much.

It was a small group and a lot of questions came up during the show. I can deal with this in a group this size, and it worked great. We were talking about Betelgeuse a little, and the kids were wondering if, when it goes supernova, it would hurt us here on Earth. I assured them it would not. One kid had a follow-up question: "I was wondering... are penguins immune to radiation?"

Just when I think I've heard every possible question, somebody chucks me a curveball like that!

The Ancient Astronomer

At the end of a show, kids often ask if I built the Planetarium projector in the middle of the room.

This happened this morning, and this is how it went...

Kid: "Did you build that machine?"

Me: "Well, I was one year old when that was installed, so I was no help at all in building it!"

This NORMALLY gets a little chuckle. Not this time. This time the kid's eyes just got all wide... "WOW! That thing must be OLD!"

I got kind of quiet and said, "*-sigh-* Yup. Really, really old."

One of the teachers thought that was hilarious.

I had a group this morning. When they arrived, I was just sitting outside in the shade. I was feeling pretty unmotivated, and just sort of grunted a hello. They asked if they could go in (they were very excited!), and I said, "I suppose so."

So I ambled inside, and sat them down.

I got into show mode pretty quickly (screaming at them, getting them all laughy and wound up), but I think my earlier attitude stuck with some of them. About half way through the show this one kid, with no humor in his voice whatsoever, said to me all sorts of matter-of-facty, "You know. You are a lot funnier than I thought you were going to be."

I'll take it as a compliment!

Gutbusters

I do a lot of screaming at children in my planetarium shows. It really gets out a lot of frustration. If you haven't screamed at the top of your lungs to a room of 65 seven-year-olds, you have not lived. Trust me, it's awesome.

What happens is this: I ask a stupid question ("Mercury is hotter than your oven. If the oven is on is it a good idea to go inside?"). They yell out an answer. Sometimes they answer appropriately, sometimes they get all wise-assy and answer a stupid question with a stupid answer. No matter how they respond, a second later I scream at the top of my lungs in a horribly annoyed tone: "NOOOO! Stay out of the oven!! What're'ya crazy!!?"

The kids, in general, go wild. They laugh and laugh. Soon they get into it, and whenever I ask a stupid question they respond stupidly, just so I will scream louder. And everytime I do, they laugh harder.

I had a girl who laughed harder than anyone I've ever seen. It actually didn't matter what I'd say after a while she'd just be there cackling away.

At one point, through agonized breaths, she pleaded: "Please. Stop. No. More. Please. My guts are gonna fall out!"

OK, that got me laughing. The teacher next to her got laughing.

Not sure if there are any stand up comedians out there reading this, but if so, please vouch for me when I say: When you're killing, you don't back off. No presenter is going to say "Oh, they are enjoying themselves WAY too much, I'd better stop doing such a good job." Oh, no. I just POURED it on thicker than ever.

I thought the girl was going to die. Literally. Just stop breathing and die. That doesn't mean I backed off then, either -- hey, I have to give them a good show!

After the group left (she could hardly walk... still laughing on the way out) I realized that I could have made a horrible, horrible mistake. But I checked the seat she was sitting in. It was dry.

A Year and a Half?!?

Holy moley -- I haven't posted in a year and a half. Amazed the blog is still here. Glad Blogger doesn't kill off unattended Blogs.

So, why have I come back? Well, we are moving forward quickly in upgrading the Planetarium... I was in Chadds Ford, PA on Monday and got to experience a Digistar 3 digital projection system. And I was blown away.

And then, yesterday, a guy came to give us estimates on redoing the seats.

This process can only lead to chaos and hilarity. And, hopefully, a whole new theater!

I won't get too excited until the new system is actually installed, because I've been horribly, horribly let down before...

But, fingers are crossed.

Like a star...

Hey, all. Long time no write. Sorry is me.

The groups are coming fast and furious-like. I know I have lots of stories that I didn't jot down, and now are totally gone. This makes me sad. I know that when I go back and review old entries there are many stories which I wouldn't have remembered otherwise , or didn't remember at all. I realize that this is no "Diary of Anne Frank", but it's nice to have a memior, of sorts, so I need to come back and do this more. This my Thanksgiving Resolution (New Year's is still too far off).

Also, when I look back, I am horrified at the misspellings and back grammar. I need to hire a proofreader.... yeeps.


Anyway... the other day I had a group from the Teaneck Community Charter School. They were rowdy. They were mostly into it, but they had a level of adrenaline unfit for an hour in a dark room.

One kid did make me laugh.

I was describing the star Rigel in Orion. It's blueish looking. I told them that blue stars are generally hot stars. AND, generally, they are newer stars. I said, when you see a blue star, you can be fairly certain that you can say, "It's new, it's blue, and it's hot."

One boy said, with a real smooth street-pimp-sounding accent, "Just like me."

This was fourth grade, by the way.

This Shouldn't Have Been So Funny

I had a group of 3 and 4 year olds from the on-campus day care center today. When kids this age come, they often want to tell me about their pets or toys or something they had recently done. This group was no exception.

I have slides of the planets set up, and can turn them on individually until I get past Saturn. Uranus, Neptune and Pluto are all on one switch -- I turn all three on at once (when I set it up, I had basically run out of switches).

Uranus and Neptune are right next to each other -- basically like this:


When I got to this point one kid excitedly wanted to tell me something. "Ooh! OOooooh!" he was yelling.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me?" I asked.

"Yeah!" he said.

"What is it?"

"Those two planets...!" he started.

"Uranus and Neptune?" I pointed at them with my laser pointer.

"Yeah! I have balls like that!"

I almost wet myself.

He did go on to explain about his set of blue balls, but I had to hum a tune in my head to block it out, because my 8th grade sense of humor was rioting out of control.


I am a sick, sick person. But, really, it was funny, especially since it was so completely unexpected.

I had a camp group today. They are always tricky, because they bring vast age ranges. The kids today were between 5 and 13 years old. That is a HUGE range.

This group was actually quite good for a camp group. They shouted out questions on occasion, but they were appropriate and rare. And that's fine by me -- it can actually enhance the program.

After I showed some constellation pictures, one of the younger kids yelled out a question. It was kind of muffled, and had a kid accent, so what I heard him say was, "How goes the parables?"

"What was that?" I asked.

"How old are the animals?" he asked. Well, that was a little better of a question.

"Oh!" I felt relieved, "those constellation shapes have been around for thousands of years." I knew he'd be impressed.

"Nuh-uh," he said.

My brain started shuddering: Nuh-uh? NUH-UH? What do you mean 'Nuh-uh?!' How could this go wrong?? It was very simple... OK, brain, we can handle this. Let's work it out...

"Seriously!" I told him, "Most of those pictures were thought up by people a couple thousand years ago!"

"Oh," the kid said. "But how OLD are they?"

Kids. They will put me in a little white coat with straps on the sleeves.

"Thousands of years!" My voice had taken on a sad, whiny quality.

"Nope," the kid said, "cuz they'd be dead."

It is never good when the conversation turns to death. I thought I might get out of this now, though...

"Well, they're not real," I said. "They're just pretend pictures."

"They'd still be dead," he said.

"They're made up pictures. Like a dot-to-dot picture you draw! They're not alive," I felt proud at the comparison.

"So they're dead," he said confidently. OK, maybe I should have left off the 'they're not alive' part.

"Not really. They're not alive OR dead. They're just make-believe." MAKE-BELIEVE!! I'm pretty sure I haven't used that term in 25 years. I hoped that would be the end of it.

"So why are they in heaven? They must be dead," he said it quietly, with a tone that indicated reverence for the deceased.

The only worse that the conversation turning to death is when it turns to religion. And with all the evidence to the contrary, I do know when I'm beaten.

"I'm not quite sure," I said.

I hate it when I fail in a battle of wits with a 5 year-old.


Although I don't have much to compare it to: I don't know what it feels to WIN in a battle of wits with a 5 year-old. Someday.


Someday.

Out of Bounds

We are doing a College for Kids program this week. I have done week-long classes for these kids at least 3 times, and this has to be the last time.

I kind of hoped this week would be a good one, but that was just silly.

I came in the beginning of this week super-cranky. This is not a good way to start, and I may have been a little rough at the beginning.

The first class starts at 9:00. I came in at 8:30, and tried to shuffle some things together. Five minutes after I arrived, one of the people working for the College for Kids program knocked on my door. I frantically waved her in...

"What do you want the kids to do?" she asked me. (Remember, class starts in TWENTY FIVE MINUTES.)

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Do you just want them to wait outside the Planetarium?" she asked.

"As opposed what?" I asked, quite annoyed.

"Well, I wasn't sure what you wanted to do while they were waiting," she said. She appeared to have noticed my annoyance.

"I don't really care what they do right now, I'll worry about them in 25 minutes," I said.

"OK," and she left.

I felt kind of bad about being so cranky. I'm usually not that rude. But I am just the teacher from 9:00 to 10:30! Outside of that, I can't be responsible for those demons! I have trouble enough during the class...


I should really have some coffee before I talk to people in the morning.

Tautologically Speaking

I had a birthday party earlier this week. If you've read this blog before, you know that birthday parties are the bane of my existence.

This was a largeish group -- 25 kids, 25 adults -- for a 5 year old's birthday. They were as rowdy as usual. They had just come from having cake in the cafeteria, so the sugar rush was in full effect.

They adults wrangled the kids into the dome and seats. I turned to the mother and asked, "Is everyone in?" She told me, "Yes."

So, I started to bring the lights down, and doing my talkies when two guys came into the room. Of course, they couldn't be part of this party, since I had just confirmed that everyone was in.

So I galloped over to the door, and asked the guys what they were doing. "We're here for the show."

"This is a private party," I told them.

"I know," one of the guys said, "It's for my son."

What the hell?

I turned to the Mom, "I thought you said everyone was in?! The kid's father wasn't even in!"

"OH! When you asked me before, I thought you were just talking about the people in the room," she told me.

Blink.

Blink. Blink.


So, in case you are keeping score, she thought I was asking if the people in the room were all in the room.

The headache began right then.

Trumped!

I have almost always started my shows with an, "Are you guys ready?!" It seems to get them all psyched up, and also focused on the fact that we are about to begin.

Lately, after that question...

    ["Are you guys ready?!?!"
    "YEAH!"]

... I have added this question: "Am I ready?!?!"

They usually all yell back -- "YEAH!!"

I then look at them quizzically and say, more quietly, and slightly accusingly, "How would you know that?" It sometimes makes them laugh, but always makes me laugh, which is much more important. It's like I've won some weird game of Simon Says that my opponents didn't realize they were playing.

Anyway, I just had a group of mainly 8 and 9 year olds. I started the same way:

    "...you guys ready?!"
    "YEAH!!"
    "Am I ready?!?"
    "YEAH!!!!"

    Quizzically, I said: "How would you know that?!?"

I was ready to start laughing inside when one kid replied without hesitation:
    "Cuz you're wearing a tie!!"

Touché.

8 year old: 1.
Astronomer: zero.

The Literal Group

Well, it's been four months since I've posted anything. (I am slapping my own knuckles with a ruler.) Sorry.

Today I had a group from a camp. They are always QUITE rowdy, and this group was no exception. They did have a sort of sarcastic savvy that made me laugh a few times.

The show ended with a perfect example of their style -- At the end of most shows, a teacher or responsible adult will question/command the crowd: "What do you say to the nice astronomer?" And they all, of course, respond with a resounding "Thank you!"

For this group, one of the counselors yelled to them: "Say 'Thank you!', please."

Sixty-some-odd campers ALL said, in unison, "Thank you, please!"

It's going to be a long summer.

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?

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.

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.

Heaven is a place near Earth.

I had a group of very small children today. It was a nursery school, so they were between 3 and 5 years old. They were a little too excited about the laser pointer, but they settled down after a little while.

I spend much of my time with this age group talking about how different the moon and the planets are from the Earth. We started with the moon. After talking about a couple lunar features, I asked...

"Could we live on the moon?"

"NO!" They all cheerily announced.

"Why not?" I asked.

I got very quiet. They just sat there. I was about the put them out of their misery when a small girl timidly suggested, "Because God lives there...?"

You never know what a kid this age is going to come out with. I figured I would investigate further...

"God lives on the moon...?" I asked her.

"I think so," she told me.

"So why couldn't we live there, too?" I asked.

"He's a big man," she told me.


"Oooh." I let it go at that.

"There are emergency exits in the Southeast and Southwest sides of the room..."

Every year, a temple comes to the Planetarium to celebrate a Havdala service. (I hope I spelled that correctly.) They have done this for many years -- since before I worked here. In fact, Jennifer, an ex-Planetarium director, comes to perform most of the science end of the program. The rabbi and other members of the temple do parts of the program, as well.

Basically, a 'standard' program is done, about stars and planets and stuff, and then the religious folks come in and talk about how it relates to the Jewish faith, and then an actual service happens. Part of which is the lighting of a big candle.

This ALWAYS makes me nervous. It's big and smoky. I am always afraid that the sprinklers are going to kick in.

The rabbi, David, lit the candle this year, as he always does. My gut clenched up, like it always does.

I need to set a little bit of the scene now: He is on one end of the room, standing behind a lab table. I am on the opposite side of the room behind the control panel. On the table is the lit candle.

Rabbi David says, "Wow! I bet this would look great in the middle of the room." To me, he calls, "Would it be OK if I moved the candle to the middle of the room?"

I yelled across to him, "I guess so. We've never done it before, but we can try." I actually thought this might be better -- in the middle of the room, the ceiling is WAY up there, nice and far away from the flame. "Before you do, I want to remind everyone that there are exits on both sides of the room." Everyone got a chuckle at this, which is what I intended.

So David picked up the tray with the lit candle, turned to carry it around the table, and the candle tumbled right off the tray he was holding. I watched it disappear behind the table.

The next thing I see is David and another person stomping away behind the table. I just put my head in my hands -- I couldn't watch.

(Damage report: There was not much -- it appears that they just managed to scrunch some melted wax into the carpet.)

David then says, "I think maybe I'll just keep the candle up here."

"I like that idea," I told him.

Holey moley, it's been nearly 2 months since I've been here in Blogland. Things have happened. I have not recorded them. I have forgotten most of it.

I feel bad. That stuff is gone forever.

So now I must get back into it!

And so, welcome back.

--"You are all individuals!"
--"We are all individuals!!"

--"I'm not."

It's funny, the group that came today seemed so sweet and nice and good. They were in 3rd grade, and they marched down the hill in chilly weather on silent feet; little 3rd grade mouses, they were.

I thought, This is going to wonderful. Good kids. Quiet kids. Listening kids.

They remained quiet as I introduced them to myself and the building and we got into the Planetarium.

As soon as the lights started going down, apparently the Ritalin wore off. They went from civilized to feral in the blink of an eye. I have no idea what triggered them, but they were turning upside down in the seats and all talking at once. It was very odd.

When we got to full dark, a couple of the girls started shrieking. I can put up with a lot (I can!! Stop laughing!!), but not shrieking. Ow. I just sat there with my head down for a moment waiting for the screeching to cease.

It did. Eventually.

So then I started talking about the stars and constellations. I often start with the North Star (Polaris), and the Little and Big Dippers. I pointed out Polaris and stated that it was in the Little Dipper.

Before I could even indicate what I meant by that or put up a picture or anything...

"I SEE IT!" One kid yelled out, and at full volume.

Immediately all the other kids had to prove that they saw it, too. A cacophony of "I SEE IT! I SEE IT!" rose up in the room. Mob mentality is an amazing thing. Once they all had their scream out, and a second of quiet had passed, one lonely, quiet voice said, "I don't see it."

This was the voice of honesty, and I respected him for it.


This went on for the rest of the show -- "Up in this area is Pegasus."

"I SEE IT! I SEE IT! I SEE IT!" went the chorus.

"You know, I just don't see it," chimed the voice of honesty.


It made me laugh a couple of times.


As an afterward: When I talked about the planets I mentioned that an atmosphere is sort of an invisible blanket around the planet... when I said that, one kid yelled, "I SEE IT!" But this time he was alone. At least some kids were listening when I used words like 'invisible'.

Too old to get it.

I am just not fit to deal with 4 year olds! I know I've always complained about them and complained about complaining about them, but they are simply too young for me to understand.

Example: Yesterday I had a group of 4 year old kids. I did the whole program -- moon, stars, constellations, planets -- and went to the usual Q & A at the end. They often ask incomprehensible questions; I kind of expect it.

One girl hand her hand up, and I asked if she had a question.

"Nope," she told me.

"OK," I said, and went to look for another hand.

Her hand goes up again.

"Did you think of a question?" I asked.

"Nope!" she said, in a happy way.

I began to turn away again, when she said, "Wait!"

"What is it?" I asked.

"I have to tell you something," she said. It made sense now.

"What's that?" I asked her.

"I have a joke," she proudly beamed.

"Is it about space?" I asked.

"Yes!" she told me.

All right! I thought. A joke! Now we're getting somewhere. It's always good to have extra material.

"What's the joke," I excitedly prompted.

"Why did Mickey go to Pluto?"

"I don't know..." I was ready for the bang up punchline... this is going to be good.

"To see his dog Pluto!" she finished with a flourish of her hands; the gesture said 'Taa-dah!'.


There were crickets chirping in my head.


"Ohhhh," I nodded, trying to fake a laugh, failing horribly. She looked a little hurt that I did not wet my pants at this tremendously humorous joke.


I just don't get little kid jokes.

I just don't get little kids.

Energy Thief, the Hunter.

I was performing a program for some 3rd grade students yesterday. I was showing them some constellations (Cygnus, Pegasus), and was leading up to the one that most kids know: Orion.

I used my usually intro -- "This is a pretty well known constellation [I point it out]; he's the hunter, and he's wearing a very well-known belt.... does anyone know what it is?"

Usually a bunch of 3rd graders are familiar with Orion's Belt.

After a very slight pause, one kid yelled out "Enron!"

"What was that?" I asked.

"Enron!" he told me again.

"Actually," I hesitantly corrected him, "It's Orion."

"Oh, right," he said.


What an odd news corporate culture mental crossover!

Damp.

It's raining. It is raining pretty hard I must admit.

My morning program cancelled. BECAUSE OF THE RAIN. They didn't want to walk to little childrens out in the rain. Here's a thing: If they are too young to handle RAIN, they're likely too young to come to the Planetarium.

Rain.

Sheesh.

I really can't complain; that knocks me down to 2 shows for the day instead of three. Bonus! And anytime 3 year olds decide NOT to come is a good thing.

Be prepared.

I had a group of 3rd graders here a little while ago. There was about 60 of them. And as they were coming down the hill I noticed that EVERY one of them was holding a book. All the books were different -- I noticed everything from Judy Blume to Shel Silverstein to Captain Underpants, but they all had one.

I asked the teacher why they all had a book, and she said, "Well, we weren't sure if we would have to wait when we got here, so we made sure that everyone brought a book to keep them busy."

This woman is AWESOME. What a great idea. It's something I do whenever I go anywhere, but I never expected a teacher to expect her 3rd graders to do the same! Wonderful.

As they were entering the room, one kid said, "Oh, cool!" as expected, but then went on to say, "this looks just like home!"

His house has circular flip-down seating for 80 and a giant robotic projector in the center?! Wow.

They were actually a rather excited group. I started the day with a headache, and they did nothing to relieve it, but since they came prepared, I didn't really care that much. And they were excited about the astronomy. It would have been nicer if they sat quietly instead of screaming throughout, surely, but at least they weren't making stale jokes about Uranus.

I'll take what I can get.

Don't come late.

I had 3 public shows this weekend, and 2 of them actually sold out. Yeeps. Why do people keep coming back?! I really am flabbergasted that people keep showing up.

Anyhoo, the 1:00 program was one that was sold out. I got back to my office and had the following note tucked under the door:

To the Planetarium --
We had reservations for the 1:00 pm show. The original reservation was under Professor Applequist. I phoned and requested an additional ticket for a wheelchair patron. We were here at 1:00. The doors were locked. I do not expect to pay for these tickets nor have Professor Applequist pay either.
-- Professor Montana

Hilarious, for so many reasons.

First, when I got out of the program, Tom, one of the maintenance fellows here, saw me come out of the room, and said, "Chris, man, you had some pissed off people here before."

I asked him to elucidate... He told me, "Some people came in after the show started. They yelled something me about the 1:00 show. I didn't know anything about it, I said, 'It's only five after one, try the door.' but it was apparently locked."

I was locked. I didn't even close the door until 1:05, so they were LYING when they said they were here at 1:00. Once the show starts, though, the door gets locked. Period. It's dark in there. Too dark to see. If you come in late you ruin the show for everyone in there, including me. This is why they don't let you in late to Broadway shows -- you are a distraction and a nuisance.

Even funnier is the "I don't expect to pay for these tickets" part. You won't have to pay because you weren't here before the cash register got put away! Dope.

And I'm wondering why Professor Applequist, who did show up on time, didn't mention anyone else coming. Maybe they weren't surprised that you were here on time -- maybe they were happy about it.

Probably not -- I'm just supposing here -- but who knows...

Call 911.

The other day, while I was cutting some papers with an X-acto knife, I slipped and almost cut off the front of the index finger of my left hand. I sliced about a 1/2 inch into it -- if I had gone another 1/8 inch, that chunk would have been detached from my body.

So what does this have to do with the Planetarium? I'll get there.

I had it bandaged for a while, but it wouldn't dry out while being bandaged, so I decided to go unbandaged for the day. It basically was staying closed, and seemed to have scabbed up nicely. I would just be careful.

I had two shows today, and at the end of the first, the kids were asking their questions. One kid asked about how a star forms. I usually use bubble wrap to try to illustrate it. I mention that they should imagine the bubbles are gas atoms, and gravity holds them in a ball (I ball up the bubble wrap), and if the gravity gets strong enough it starts a nuclear explosion (I wring the bubble wrap making a great popping cacophony!). They kind of get it, usually...

I decided to do the same thing. With great flair, I produced the bubble wrap, and wrung it out! As it popped, the stress of the wringing shifted the skin around my fingers. I felt the scab give way, and looked down to see the left side of my hand turning red. I was gushing blood. I headed behind the control panel to where I have paper towels, but some kids gasped as they noticed the blood flow. One of the teachers saw it, too, and just looked at me, wide-eyed.

"No more questions," I said quietly. The teacher who saw my bleeding started laughing.

She escorted them out as I tried to dig a Band-Aid out of my pocket, without bleeding on my pants too much.

Any day that starts with uncontrolled bleeding cannot turn out too good.

The Generosity of Some People.

I had a message on my machine from a woman who wanted a birthday party for her 5 year old son.

The message had a part which stated, "Of course, I'd be willing to pay for everyone."

Wow. You'd actually PAY for the program. That's so swell.

I just don't understand sometimes.

Watch it Wiggle.

Last week I had a group of special ed kids. They are always my favorite! They have an honest appreciation and a simple sort of wisdom that I never see anywhere else. This time I was not disappointed...

I was talking about the gas planets, and mentioning that they have no solid surface. I often describe them as 'big, thick, round clouds in outer space.' It's not a perfect description, but it gets them understanding the fact that we can see it's shape, but still could not stand on it!

At the end of the show, one girl was asking about that. She asked if you would fly right through a planet like you would a cloud. I told her, "No. The gravity is WAY too strong. You would get stuck in the body of a planet like Jupiter. You'd really become part of the body of Jupiter."

"Oh," she said, "so it's really more like Jell-o."

My eyes lit up. "YES! Exactly!" Actually Neptune's body is so cold it's probably sort of coagulated gases... kind of like Jell-o! Amazing. I was thrilled. "That's a great analogy," I told her.

"Thanks!" she said, obviously pleased with herself.

"Can I use it?" I asked her.

"Use it for what?" she said.

"Use it in my shows? Can I tell people that the gassy planets are kind of like Jell-o?"

She looked confused. "Why couldn't you?"

"Well, it was YOUR idea, and I didn't want to use it without your permission," I told her.

She thought about it for a minute... "I give you permission," she told me, nodding.


These kids are awesome.

Remember me?

It's been over a month. Sorry. I've felt lazy, and not much has happened. BUT I'M BACK, BABY!! I'll try to be better.


I was just putting entering some reservations into my calendar. There is a guy who is teaching 6th grade science, and bringing his class. Here's what he wants me to cover:

"Genral over view of a intro to Astronomy." [sic]

Holey moley.

AND, under method of transportation is says: "Bass". I guess he's riding a fish here.


I wonder if I will survive this school year with my brain unexploded.

I had a day camp group on Tuesday. Yep, a camp group on the day after labor day. Weird.

Apparently their school is under construction, so they won't be starting school for another 3 weeks. Dang.

Now, I don't know if the kids are getting worse, or I am just burning out, but these kids were pretty awful. They really did not seem to want to be cooped up in a dark room for an hour.

I knew it was going to be bad from the start. The behavior of the adults and chaperones is always a good indication of how bad a show will go. This is a good example of how people just hear what they want to hear --

The head counselor came up and said, "When I called they said that you only have 80 seats. Well, I have 86 people, is that going to be a problem?"

I said, "How could it not be?"

"Oh, good," she said, visibly relieved.

I had no response.


They packed into the Planetarium, and that same head counselor asked if they should go to the bathroom if they need to before we begin.

"It's not a bad idea," I said. "They can't go once the program gets going."

She yelled to the group -- "Does anyone need to use the bathroom? You have to go now!"

75 of the 86 got up to go. Each of the bathrooms have 2 stalls.

20 minutes later they were back.


The group had a wide variety of ages, some as young as five, and as old as 15.

As it was getting darker, some of them were asking some questions. One little girl had her arm up, with her hand flapping nervously. I asked her if she had a question. She nodded and asked, "Are we all gonna die?"

Why would a 5 year old think like this? I assured her that we would all likely survive, that we had had no fatalities in my tenure as astronomer as of yet.

She seemed unconvinced.

OK, it's been weeks and WEEKS since I've been here. Sorry.

September is kind of a light month, too. BUT, I will certainly be getting back into the swing soon. Stay tuned, my patient minions.

What planet is this, anyway?

I had a group of tiny ones again today. There is a day care right on campus, and they stopped by.

They had been talking about space and science in day care, so I figured I'd test their knowledge before I got going...

"For part of today we're going to talk about planets. We live on a planet. Does anyone know what planet we live on?"

It was quiet for a moment, until on boy yelled out, "Jupiter!"

"Jupiter is a planet, but we live on a different one. What planet do we live on?"

It was quiet again. A girl got an excited look on her face and yelled out, "New Jersey!"

Urf.


After I cleared up the name of our planet, I went on and told them to watch the ceiling to see our fake sky appear. I told them they would see the moon, and some stars.

As it got darker, I asked, "Has anyone seen anything, yet?"

One kid told me, "I seen the moon!!" And he pointed at it.

"Has anyone seen anything else?"

Another kid: "I seen Spiderman 2!"

"That's great," I said.


An aside: One of the chaperones (so she had to be either a teacher OR a mother) had on an extra-tight red t-shirt which simply said: "maybe if you ask nice" printed across the front. I thought it slightly inappropriate for pre-school chaperone wear. Maybe it's just me.

It's been a while since I've contributed... sorry about that for any of my regular readers.

It has been a crazy week. The first program this week was for a group of 35 four-year-old autistic kids. Now I LOVE having special needs kids in there, usually, but I really think that this was not an appropriate group for the Planetarium.

As they were coming into the room, a few kids threw themselves to the floor screaming, "NoNoNoNoNo...No...No....NOOOOO!" The parents just basically dragged them in.

As the lights started to go down, there was a bunch of muttering and humming. There was a kid right next to me whose wail had a volume was in opposite proportion to the amount of light in the room -- the light dimming exactly matched his getting louder and louder. And it was a steady yell. I figured, "Hey, he can't keep this up for much longer. He'll pass out." I was so wrong. He had a steady, "AOOOOOUUUUUUuuuuuu" howl going on for at least 5 minutes. I leaned down to the parent whose lap he was sitting on and said, "You can take him outside. It's unlocked. You can come back in if he calms down."

She told, "Oh, no, he's fine."

He doesn't sound 'fine'!!!!

A bunch of other kids joined the screaming meemie chorus.

I tried to talk over it, but it was pretty futile. I basically just showed a bunch of slides. It made no sense for me to talk.

Through the screaming, I did hear some comments of adults to the kids... and I jotted a couple of them down.

One parent said, "Eddie!! Just because it's dark in here doesn't mean your supposed to be naked!"

...and about one second later...

"And, Timmy, no tickling Eddie!"

And, in what I believe to be a completely unrelated incident, "Rachel, that's not for eating."


I limped through the rest of the program. People wandered in and out of the room, so the darkness was destroyed by lights from the hallway on a regular basis. My headache was building the whole time... after what seemed like 3 weeks, I turned the lights up and dismissed the group. I was sitting at the control panel, forehead on my hands, a beaten man. One of the adults came up to me: "Excuse me?" she said. I looked up, bloodshot eyes blinking, ready for some suggestion on how I should have handled this differently and waiting for her to wonder why I stopped talking at times, or possibly yelling at me for letting all the screaming happen.

What she actually said was: "That was a wonderful show! Thank you so much!"

Say what? Good show? Was she in the same room?! I just sort of blinked at her. She smiled and moved on.

After her, a bunch of other parents came up to me with a level of gratitude and adoration that made it seem as if I had given each of them a million dollars. It was so strange.

I wonder what a BAD day is like.

Mynah boy.

I had a group of 5 to 8 year olds yesterday afternoon. It was a small group, only about 15 kids. There was one boy, on the younger end of the range, who seemed really excited. He was sitting in his chair bouncing, as he was waiting for me to begin. Just bouncing.

He seemed like a "normal" kid to me -- just rather excited. I wouldn't have thought he had any diagnosed mental condition, but as the show proceeded, I think he might. (I'm not belittling the kid -- if you know me at all, you know the kids/adults with disabilities are my favorites.)

During the program, whenever anyone would make a comment he would repeat the end of it, almost with the exact tone as the person who said it.

At one point, one kid mentioned, "That's pretty awesome."

"...awesome," this kid said, one second later, like an echo. Or perhaps more like a parrot, or a mynah bird.


A little later somebody muttered, "that was so cool."

"...so cool," the Mynah Boy repeated.


It was actually kind of a cool effect in the Planetarium. There's an echo in there anyway, and he just added on to it. It didn't bother me at all, which is a little surprising, since I hadn't been having the best day.


At the end of the show, I asked if he liked the show. He just sat there, still bouncing in his chair, staring at me with what was the most sincere smile I ever saw.

"Did you like it?" I asked again.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

"What was your favorite part?"

Bounce. Bouncebouncebounce. Grin. Smile. Bounce.


I decided a different tactic: "I liked doing the show. I think that stuff is pretty awesome."

"Awesome!" he agreed.


So, he wasn't going to answer questions, but I could say a statement and he would agree. My ego, for a moment, thought it might be a good idea to just give myself a rave review of my own show and hear him repeat it back to me. I decided that it would be mean to use the kid for my own butt-kissing yes-man.


"Did everybody have fun?" I asked the group right before they left. Everyone answered "YEAH!". Except for Mynah Boy.

I went over and leaned down and said, "Wow. I sure had fun."

"Fun!" he told me. Bounce.Bounce.Bounce.


Even though it was my own word, it was one of the best reviews I ever had.

Year End Stats.

Today officially ends my fiscal year.

For 2003-2004:

331 shows.
14711 attendees.



Yowza.

The trouble with kiddles.

The second show I did today was for a group called the Children's Center. The kids were between 5 and 11 yrs old. That's a big spread -- there is a HUGE difference between 5 years old and 11 years old.

I did a pretty generic program for them... they seemed happy. At the end when I asked if there were any questions, about 80% of them put their hands up. When the other 20% saw the hands up, they joined in, as well.

So I called on the first kid, and he got up out of his seat, walked over to me, and stood RIGHT NEXT TO ME (I swear his toes were touching mine), and looked straight up at me and asked a question about a planet. I really don't remember the question, and basically didn't even hear it because I was so freaked out by his actions. I just stood there with my mouth agape, slightly, and after a second or two of my silence, he asked his question again... I didn't hear it the second time either. I just stammered out a freakish, "Um. I don't know."

"Oh, OK," he said.

And he stayed right where he was.

"Anything else??" I waveringly asked.

"Nope," he told me, still as a statue.

I called on the next kid, and HE GOT UP and stood right next to me. SO now I had a SECOND kid right up against me.

In a few moments, I basically had ALL THE KIDS surrounding me, all shouting questions at the same time. I have never been so freaked out in my life. And I had some giant prehistoric looking cricket in my bathroom last week.

I just whipped my head from side to side, eyes wide, unable to answer the questions, unable to move. After what seemed like twenty minutes of this hell, one of the teacher/chaperones grabbed a couple kids at the outside of the mob, and started to lead them away to the exit.

I still feel a bit oogy.

I'm back!

Well, it's hard to actually get back to work, but I suppose I must do this.

I have 2 programs today... should give me a hearty jolt of reality.

Before I go do those....

This is a message for someone named Stephanie Johnson: you left a very nice voice mail message for me, but if you want to return your call, as requested, you'll have to leave your phone number. Thanks.

Two more weeks off.

There has been a dearth of Blog entries recently. I apologize. AND....

....I'm taking the rest of this week and all of next week off.

Official Blogging Vacation begins....




.......NOW.

The multipurpose room.

I had a group of Kidergarten students this afternoon... they had not sent in their reservation form, which isn't terribly unusual, but I wasn't sure what they had covered in their class, and what they might want me to cover. I DID know that they had called and left a message stating that they HAD TO be done fifteen minutes early. It was EXTREMELY important that the main part of the program was over and the lights were back on FIFTEEN MINUTES early. Often, they need to be back for the buses, or something of that sort, so it wasn't too odd to hear that.

Until I found out why.

They arrived, and I asked what they wanted discussed, since I had no idea.


"It doesn't matter," the teacher told me.

"Doesn't matter? What do you mean?" I asked.

"Whatever you want to talk about is fine."

I've ranted about this before. Just pick something. Make it seem like you care to be here a little. BUT, it was a Kindergarten group, so I understand how it might not matter; they're 5 years old. Whatever I talk about will be fine...

"All that matters," she continued, "is that you are done AT LEAST 15 minutes early."

"Oh, yeah," I said, "I got you message. Got to get back for the buses?" I asked it almost rhetorically, assuming that was the reason.

"Oh, no," she told me.

"Oh, then why is it so important for you to get done early?" I asked.

"We thought it would be great for us to do the class pictures here!" she said proudly.

I felt physically ill. I know there is no reason for this, but I was personally offended. Let's recap: She doesn't care what I say, as long as I shut up in time for her to take pictures of the kids. Why do the show at all? Just take your pictures and go away.

So, I did the program, and got done early, as requested. As soon as the lights came up, she lined the kids up against the wall. She used her spit to straighten their hair and desmudge their faces, and two of the people in the audience who I assumed to be chaporones got out their fancy digital cameras. Then they had each end of the line of kids stand in front of a poster (one was a quarter moon, the other was M51, a galaxy), and get their picture taken one at a time.

Then they had each of the classes stand in front of the machine and have a class picture done. The kids robotically did as they were told, and then the entourage left. It seemed that they had already forgotten a program had even happened.


Well, it was 15 minutes where I didn't have to talk, so I should at least just be thankful for that.

What IS real?

I had a group of preschool kids here yesterday. I was in a great state of I-really-don't-want-to-deal, and it sort of made for a better program.

The 4 year olds were crawling all over the seats just like they ALWAYS do, and I knew I needed to get them to do some participation. So, as we talked about constellations, I would drop hints on what the shape or animal was going to be, and they would should guesses until we got it right.

Me: "This next one is an animal...."

Them:"A FROG!!" "A BEAR!!" "A CAT!!!"

Me: "....it's got a mane..."

Them: "A HORSE!!" "A LION!!"

Me: "YES!! It's a lion!" And then I'd put up a picture of Leo.


Even the adults (there were 15 in the room) were getting into it. So much so that they stopped thinking.

I had a woman next to me who was really into it. She was shouting as much as the kids and seemed just giddy when she'd guess right.

One time she was a little off the mark... I was about to show them Draco the Dragon.

Me: "This is another animal..."

Them: "A DOG!!" "A PIG!!"

Me: "... actually it's a FAKE animal. A PRETEND animal..."

And the woman next to me guessed: "A TURTLE!"

I stopped. I turned to her.

Me: "A turtle?? Did you say a turtle??"

The Woman: "YEAH! TURTLE!"

Me: "Turtles are real."

The Woman: "So it's not a turtle?" She seemed genuinely disappointed.

Me: "Nope. NOT a turtle. It's a PRETEND animal." Directed back to the rest of the room: "It breathes fire..."

The Woman: "A fire-breathing turtle!!"


I think she was joking around, but I just can't be sure.

Good.

Oh my goodness. I had a 3rd grade group yesterday, and they were... good.

Really good.

It was a good group. They WERE here 25 minutes early, but they used the bathroom during that time and waited patiently until I was ready to let them in. They were in the hallways for a while, and they were good.

They came in and sat down in a good fashion. The show was good. They were quiet when they were supposed to be, participated when they were supposed to, and laughed and clapped in respective fashion when appropriate. It was good.

It was a good show.


Wait a minute: I just checked -- I've done 750 shows, and have JUST exceeded 30,000 visitors.

And in all that time I've had ONE good show.

This is not good.

The Best Review Ever.

My third group was a bunch of precocious 4 year olds. They already knew EVERYTHING I was about to tell them. Normally I would be really annoyed by this, but at this point in the day, I let them run with it.

I would introduce a planet, and they would all scream the name back at me, and then tell me things they knew about it. I can't believe how well it worked.

"This is Venus!" I would say. "YAY, VENUS!! VENUS!!" they would all shout.

"It's hot!" one kid would yell.

"That's right," I'd assure him unnecessarily. "What else...?"

"It's got poisonous clouds!!" another kid would shout.

"Great! What else...?"


We'd do about 4 or 5 basic facts, and then I'd move onto the next planet. It's a cool concept, but for most groups it would never work -- somehow they all stayed on task, appropriately, and each took turns in the dark. That never works! I'm still not sure how it did this time.

They were good, too. I was pointing out a couple constellations -- Leo, Cygnus, Scorpio -- and I said at one point, "This next one is a pretend animal."

Without more than a second delay, one four year old shouted, "Draco the Dragon!!" I hadn't even pointed the part of the sky, yet! It was like they had read the script.

So, I didn't end up teaching them ANYTHING, but I apparently was able to let them reinforce the stuff they already knew, so I can't complain.

At the end I always do a Q&A, and I said, "It seems that you guys already know everything I could tell you, but if anyone has any questions or comments, this is the time for that."

One kid raised his hand and said, "I just want to say: this was cooler than myself."

I'll take that as a compliment!

An Old Pro.

The first group, 45 minutes late, got out of the dome a little later than normal. And, of course, the SECOND group showed up 20 minutes early. So the usual mad cluster of hallway destruction followed.

Here's what made it worse: the 11:00 show had 3 classes. Two went in the main entrance (the right way), and the third went in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT entrance at the end of the building (the WRONG way), so they were coming at me from two directions at once.

The teacher of the third group was all smiles and giggles as I asked, "WHY didn't you stay with the group?!?!" I was already pissed at the earlier group and grouchy that I had to come back and actually do work after 10 days off.

She sensed my irritation and got all sorts of indignant, "I went here for TEN YEARS, I KNOW MY WAY AROUND, and I decided to go the OTHER way."

I described how it made everything much worse in the hallway. "Well, it doesn't matter now... you guys can just go in."

"Well, where do we go in?" she asked me, in a snotty voice.

I almost killed her. My brain was screaming "WELL, MISS-BEEN-HERE-TEN-YEARS, you should know already, EH?" Followed by, "MAYBE THE OPEN DOOR I AM FREAKING POINTING AT, MORON!!!"

What I actually said was, "Right there. Thank you. Enjoy."


Anyone know where I can purchase a fresh set of testicles? I think mine have worn out.

What a Comeback.

Ah, it's so great to be back. 10 whole days without screaming kids (for the most part); I am so refreshed and happy.

[The editors would like to apologize for the fraudulent nature of the above sentence(s).]

I get back here, and the first show this morning was FORTY FIVE MINUTES LATE. They were noisy preschoolers who didn't care about much anyway, so it was fine that they only got a 15 minute show. Most of it was just showing the video of the Mars Exploration Rover that I use in most programs. And that way I didn't have to talk.

As the rocket was taking of one girl asked, "Is that a bomb?"

I assured her that it was not.

When the first booster rockets separated, she asked, "Is THAT a bomb?"

I told her that it was the SAME rocket, and it still was not a bomb.

The next separation occurred -- "Whoa! Is that a bomb?"

"Still. Not. A. Bomb." I said.

"It looks like a bomb," she told me.


I wish I had a bomb right about now.

Well, it's been about 6000 people since I've had some real time off, and I am a hurting unit. I think I am getting sick (hoping it's just allergies), and I am so terribly beat down.

Tomorrow begins ten days of Astronomy-free living. I will be away from computers for that whole time. I just wanted to warn you all of an impending lack of Bloggery.

See you on the other side...

Lack of Communication Skills.

A group just stood me up. It happens. Not a LOT, but sometimes. I was surprised this time, since it was someone related to the college. So, I called the school to find out what the deal was... I might have a mistake on my schedule.

"Hello?" the school receptionist answered.

I asked if this was the school which I was trying to contact.

"Yeah," she told me.

I asked for the teacher responsible for the trip.

"She in class," I was told.

"OK," I said. "Maybe you could help me. This is the main office?"

"Yeah," she said.

"OK, I had her on my schedule for a Planetarium trip today. Do you know of any classes that were supposed to go to a Planetarium today or any other day close to today?" I asked.

"Planetarium?" she asked.

"Right," I said.

"Trip?" she asked.

"Exactly. Planetarium trip," I said.

"I don't know nothin bout no Planetarium trip," she told me.

"I see," I said. "Well, do you know when a good time to speak with the teacher might be?"

"After school," the woman told me.

"Right," I said, "When does she get out of class?"

"Oh, she got class all afternoon," she said.

"I see. What time does she get out of class?" I asked.

"Regular time," she told me. She started sounding really pissed off.

"Would that be 3:00? 4:00? 5:00?" I asked.

"What you think this is? This is regular school." she said.

"Right. So what time does a regular school get done?" I asked.

"Three. Uh. Clock." she said it slow, big pause between words, as if I had a learning, or perhaps hearing, disability.

"Thanks."

I don't even think I'm going to bother to call back.

A Show and a Meal.

I had some third graders come through today. I have never been so happy to see this age group. They were older than FOUR! And that's all I've seen for most of the week.

They were OK, and I actually went and did a bunch of stuff with them -- it was a chock-full program; it was actually a bit longer than an hour, even.

They had brought their lunches, which is rather different. I think they planned on eating outside, but it was quite stormy.

Anyway, I really didn't have time to answer questions, so I did something stupid. I will NEVER forgive myself for this -- I said:

"Listen -- I need to reset the machine for the next program, but that just takes me a few minutes. Tell you what, I'll do that, and I'll grab a bite to eat and meet you all in the cafe, and I'll answer questions over lunch."

If my own brain could punch me, it would have. "HEY, STUPID!! You have a few minutes between programs and you have decided to spend it with 3rd graders!! YOU DON'T LIKE KIDS!!!"

I really don't know what my problem is.

So, I grabbed a salad, tossed some balsamic vinegar on it, and went and sat amongst the 3rd graders. Most of them had questions about 'your anus' which, honestly, is a joke that NEVER gets old (sarcasm, sarcasm).

But it wasn't anything too horrible. A couple kids decided to chew on things and then show it to their friends. Some combined foods in odd new ways, which was also a little tummy-churning, but not too bad.

They were getting ready to leave, and I was finally ready to go on with my life when one of the kids said, "My YU-GI-OH cards!!"

"What about them?" a teacher asked.

"I think I tossed them away accidentally!" he told her.

"We are NOT going through the garbage for them," she told him. Good girl, I thought.

He started to whine and pout, said they were in a zippy bag, he just needed to get them back. And then she asked which garbage can he dumped it into. He pointed it out, and it was right next to where I was still sitting. I decided to be a nice guy and I took the cover off so he could look in.

He looked in.

"I don't see them!" he moaned. He looked in a lot of pain. He glanced at me, and glanced down at the garbage can. He was seriously about to cry.

The garbage cans are rather large. He was too short to actually reach in a sift through the garbage.

So, I shook my head, handed the garbage top to him and plunged in up to my elbows sorting through mostly-eaten third-grader detritus.

My hand clasped a zippy bag with the shape of a deck of playing cards in it. I shook off the bread crusts, partially eaten fruit roll-ups, and various cold cuts, and handed the bag to him. He accepted it with glee, and they left.

Just when I think I have done it all, I sift through garbage.

This must be why we sell out shows -- it has nothing to do with the actual quality of the program, it's the word of mouth telling of the lengths I will go to make people happy -- "You should go to the Planetarium. I have no idea if he is a good astronomer, but he'll fish stuff out of the garbage for you!"

SSSKKKKKQQQQQRRRRREEEEEEEEHHHHKKK

TWO DAYS IN A ROW I have had to deal with shrieking children. SHRIEKING! Just from seeing the laser pointer on the ceiling. I would try to point out something, and the 4 year olds would shriek at the top of their lungs. You really haven't lived until you've heard 45 four-year-olds shriek in unison. ESPECIALLY if it is in a dome-shaped room that focuses and reverbates the sound directly into your brain.

Owch.

SO, I had to try to do the program without being able to show the kids what I was talking about. "There's a constellation up there in the shape of a lion. Try to find it, since I can't point it out to you! Good luck!"

I have no idea how parents deal with that sound. If I ever had a kid, the first time I heard that sound, I would take that child back and ask for a replacement. "I'm sorry, this child is broken. I need one that doesn't make a sound like rusty nails on broken glass on a chalkboard. Thank you."

It was the most horrible noise I have ever heard.

So I skimmed through the program... I just touched on most of the points I usually do -- showed some constellations, planets, two short films, and they were gone in 40 minutes.

As they were leaving, one of the teachers came up to me as told me, "Wow! That was great! You are SO GOOD with the kids!"

Two thoughts raced through my mind at the same instant:

1. I would really like to choke this person to death right now.
   
2. What would have been consider a BAD interaction with the kids?!? Swinging like monkeys from the machine, and urinating on it??
   

Hell week (month) continues.

I have not posted in a day or two because it's been way too crazy around here. THANK (insert chosen deity here) THAT I ONLY HAVE ONE MORE DAY OF THIS.

Of course that day will be filled with 4 shows, filled with tiny little children, and broken up with an ultra-conservative Christian group that won't let me talk about things more than 6,000 years old.

My brain is in pain.

Fall down, go boom.

I turned on the machine yesterday morning, and a few moments later, there was a pop, a fizzle, another sound I can't really describe, and, all of a sudden -- NO STARS. The stars were gone.

The stars are kind of a pretty important part of my presentation, seeing as I work in a Planetarium. One of the MOST important things. It's sort of the hook that gets people into it -- that dome covered with thousands of stars.

And now I must clarify -- only half the stars were gone -- the Northern Hemisphere. As I live in the Northern Hemisphere, and discuss stars mainly seen in the Northern Hemisphere, this was a problem.

Occasionally, we will blow a bulb in the machine. It happens. I had a bad feeling about this one, though. And, as I removed the mechanism that holds the bulb, I could immediately tell that the bulb was intact.

The socket it sits in was not.

The socket has a base made of ceramic -- the bulb itself is a 500 watt bulb that is approximately the size of your pinky. It's a dinky little bulb that gets REALLY hot. REALLY hot. Too hot for a metal socket. The ceramic won't melt.

But apparently, after 32 years of getting hot then cold then hot then cold then hot then cold, it will explode.

I switched the Southern Hemisphere and the Northern Hemisphere sockets so I could at least talk about SOME of the sky... well, MOST of the sky. But about 1/3 of the sky is missing. Ugh.

Yesterday was not a good day.

The machine is dying. **--sigh--** The school probably won't buy a new one -- they start in the neighborhood of $500,000.

HEY! If any of the Blog readers have $500,000, we could use that here in the Planetarium!! We will NAME THE PLANETARIUM AFTER YOU!! Imagine it!! The [insert your name] Planetarium!! And free admission to every show we will ever do.

At $5 a ticket, you only need to attend 100,000 shows, and it pays for itself!

Thank you, mysterious benefactor, in advance, for your help.

Photographic evidence.

HEY! I can post pictures!! So now I can provide some photographic proof of some of the incidents. I must just drag my digital camera everywhere.

As a test, here's a pic I took from ON STAGE (my first stage performance...it was pretty groovy), and showing 3-d pictures of the surface of Mars.




Don't they look excited??

Lost.

I just got done with the third show of the day. I am grumpy and tired, and not looking forward to the rest of the week. Four shows, every day. My calves are currently screaming at me, since I am unable, apparently, to sit when I talk. I TRY! I tell myself, "Self, sit down when you talk. You're going to kill your legs." So I sit on the tall stool I SPECIFICALLY got to get me to sit more. I get yammering, and all of a sudden I notice I am ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STINKING ROOM! Standing up! What the heck? I don't even notice it.

Anyway, that was a totally tangential rant. My brain is a little frazzled. Sorry.

I got done with the third show, and the main guy who set it up asked me, "Can you help me get back to the bus?"

"Isn't it right up at the top of the hill?" I asked him.

"No. We walked up a hill. And we got totally lost."

"Do you know what lot you were in?" I asked.

"No," he told me.

"Do you remember what direction you came from?" I asked.

"No," he told me.

"Do you remember anything that might help me help you find you bus?"

"Not really," he said.

"So the bus is in the wrong place. Some mysterious place."

"Basically," he said.

"Then I really don't think I can help you find it."


We wandered around campus for a while. I saw some bus-yellow through a tree and sent them off in that direction. I think they made it -- I haven't heard anything back about possible lost children.


It's going to be a long week.