Drought or deluge

I was mentioning to someone that we had exceeded our yearly average rainfall, which was a bright little piece of news amidst floods, landslides, and tsunami.

“The problem is,” she said, “we don’t have average rainfall. It’s either drought or deluge.”

How true that is.

This morning my husband looked out the window and said, “The sky is a funny color. How odd.”

The sky was blue. The sun was out. I went for a walk! Neighbors were out looking like survivors of a, well, deluge. It was hard to believe that two days earlier, I had seen the rain gutters on Soquel Drive spouting up ten feet because of the force of water coming down the hills. One day earlier, my husband had cleaned out a stopped gutter at our house and the resulting deluge blew the hose off the end of the downspout and dug a hole in the dirt six inches deep.

After my walk, I happily attacked a few gardening tasks, wallowing in the mud with glee. I went at a patch of grass that had invaded my beautiful patch of bacopa, grass which I attempt to remove every year and always fail. Why do I fail? Because it’s drought or deluge here. If I want plants, I get weeds. The only way to not get weeds is to make it inhospitable to plants altogether. The fussier gardeners amongst us put in inches of gravel where they don’t want plants. The totally laissez-faire amongst us let it all go where it will. Personally, I’m a controlled chaos sort of person. I like my garden to look wild, but only in the way I want it to.

This succeeds, perhaps, a little bit better than my similar approach to parenting.

I finished the grass-removing task and apologized to all the bacopa I had to rip up in the process. Of course, the bacopa will take root again. But the grass’s roots are still in there, and next year, it will return and I’ll try again.

The weather guys say we’re looking at a week without rain. I think we can all live with that. People I know are evacuated from their flooded towns, stuck behind a landslide in their hillside neighborhood, and ready to trade their kids in for tropical fish.

Enough already. The crabapples are blooming; it’s time for spring.

Science inspirations

We had another year of the ups and downs of the county science fair, and I can once again say that this is a great experience for kids.

It can be a little hard on the parents.

Here are my pro’s and con’s of the science fair.

Pro:

A happy participant of the Santa Cruz County Science Fair
  1. This is a whole-child learning experience. Most schools these days don’t give kids projects that require longterm, independent, in-depth work the way a science fair project does.
  2. A successful science fair project teaches planning on a level most kids don’t have to do in their daily lives.
  3. Science fairs nurture a child’s exposure to a topic in science longterm. Even if the project only takes a day, writing the report, making the board, setting up at the fair, and doing the interview all weave together to make this a solid, deep learning experience.
  4. The science fair is real. So many other experiences kids have don’t have real-life consequences and the ability to follow through as an adult would.
  5. Science fairs offer a sense of community to kids who might feel isolated at their schools. If your child is a science-y kid, chances are s/he’s felt out of place at school. The science fair is a place where he is normal, and where he can invite other non-science-y kids in to take part in something he loves.
  6. Science fairs nurture ideas and inspire kids. One of these days I’ll remember to take notes about all the cool ideas my kids come up with while cruising the aisles looking at everyone else’s work.
  7. Science fairs place a value on intellectual activity, which helps cancel out a popular culture that places little value on deep thought and hard work.
  8. Science fair projects are largely parent-led activities done at home, which offers a great bonding experience for parent and child.

Con:

  1. This experience is a whole-child stress test. Beware that you are signing up for leading a child through what may be his own personal hell.
  2. You may find out that your child’s planning abilities are, let’s say, about as developed as her ability to remember to pick up her dirty socks. Last-minute, late-night board glue-ings are a common topic of conversation between parents standing outside during judging.
  3. Science fairs take a huge commitment from child and parent. Most kids love doing experiments, but actually taking the notes, writing the report, and getting the board done are difficult to manage. Most parents can resist the temptation to just finish the project themselves, but some (clearly, judging from what appears at the fair) just can’t stand it.
  4. If you have more than one participant, you are likely to find out just how real the science fair is. Last year, one of my children got an award and the other didn’t. This year, ditto. The only good outcome is that it’s a different child this year! This is a real exercise in filial love.
  5. If you love science, some of the work you’ll see at the science fair might give you pause. The scientific method is not necessarily understood by a certain number of the participants, and you have to remind yourself that this is a learning experience!
  6. If your child’s project goes badly, you might find her deflated rather than pumped up. Get ready to do some pumping.
  7. Your child may, in fact, decide that listening to Justin Bieber is more fulfilling than the science fair.
  8. Science fair projects are largely parent-led activities done at home, which offers a great chance for parent and child to tear each other’s hair out and issue curses while swearing never, ever to enter the science fair again.

Face that book with a smile

I just finished reading The Shallows: What the Internet is doing to our brains. It’s a much more subtle read than the title might imply. He’s not actually saying that my brain has been taken over by Facebook. He’s only implying it.

Or something like that. I’ve been having trouble with my short-term recall these days…

But seriously, I use Facebook for business purposes only. I am completely serious here… sort of: I have been using Facebook to publicize my writing. (Hey, sign up here if you’re on Facebook, too!) And I have found it an amazingly friendly tool for getting notifications from groups I want to hear from, such as the Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood and Gifted Homeschoolers Forum.

For a long time, I felt very guilt-free when my son would say, “Facebook again?” upon glancing at my screen and I’d say, “I’m working!”

Then the Midlanders got to me.

No, not the fans of my short-lived duo with a friend who was also born in that far-away land.

I mean all those kids I grew up with. Except “those kids” have turned out to be adults (how did that happen?) who have real lives (all over the place), jobs (even ones that make money), and political affiliations (no comment). They’ve cut their hair. They are obsessed with football. They have opinions.

It started like this: One of my childhood friends that I have actually communicated with a few times since childhood “friended” me. And that was OK. We’ve actually talked on the phone. I know where she’s living, what she’s doing, and her husband’s name. (Though I’ve forgotten that. See aforementioned memory difficulties.)

Then, somehow, her “friends” found me. I remember Suki, they thought. And they “friended” me, too. I didn’t want to be rude. I accepted their friendship.

And that opened a whole new can o’ worms.

Am I using Facebook now for business purposes? Or have I gotten sucked into the new, mind-numbing void of The Shallows?

It’s hard to sum up his main thesis, except to say that he thinks we should all be pretty careful about how much of our brains we dump into the Internet. We think we’re using it as a tool, but it may, in fact, be using us. (Are you out there, Hal?)

I have to admit I’ve had to “hide” some “friends.” If you post numerous times during the day about what you ate, the cute thing your kid said, and the gum you found stuck to the bottom of your shoe, you shouldn’t be surprised to find out that most of your “friends” have “hidden” you. Let’s be serious, here: They tuned you out long ago. Being able to “hide” you on Facebook is just so much easier and more convenient than writing up their grocery shopping list while talking to you on the phone.

“Hiding” friends is the modern equivalent of “uh-huh” and “really?” and “tell me more.”

Occasionally, I must admit, I get caught up in the drama of Facebook. I know that I shouldn’t reply to something a “friend” has posted, but can I resist? Usually, yes. I’m using Facebook for business purposes, you know.

But sometimes you have to wander over to the water cooler.

So I respond to a post and then someone I haven’t spoken to for thirty years snarks back at me and I have a bad night’s sleep.

Well, actually, I don’t usually remember it at bedtime. Go back to short-term memory difficulties, above.

But seriously, although I use Facebook for business purposes only, I get why people have gotten so “into” it. Their “friends” are so much easier to manage than their friends. Their “friends” won’t run into them at the grocery store or at the school play. Those pesky friends do that sort of thing all the time! Their “friends” can be turned off. Those darn friends will insist on seeing you and getting to the bottom of why you’d criticize their political affiliations and their favorite football team in one 5-word post.

See, with “friends,” you can just say, “Oh, I’m sorry — you must have misunderstood.” And by the time they read that, they can’t actually remember what you’re referring to (return to aforementioned short-term memory deficits), and it’s easy to forgive you.

For all you know, they weren’t even mad enough to “hide” you.

Not that you’d ever know. Not like that real friend you sent a snarky e-mail to, and now when she sees you on the school campus she looks right through you like you’re a… like you’re a…

…like she doesn’t “like” you anymore.

OK. Maybe “friends” are better than friends. Bye, everyone. See you all in Facebook, where it’s so much easier to be me.

I mean, “me.”

How to teach science

We love San Francisco’s Exploratorium. For kids who love science, or just love to mess around, the Exploratorium has it all. You’ve got fun stuff, and weird stuff, and gross stuff, and fascinating stuff. You’ve got physics, chemistry, biology, psychology, and other disciplines I can’t think of right now. You’ve got fog and noisemakers and lightning and beetles eating dead things.

What else could you want?

Well, one thing you can want from any museum is depth. The Exploratorium achieves this in a few ways. First of all, there are exhibits that can take you in deeper. These are largely the ones where you actually get in and interact. The ones where a large number of kids can walk up and interrupt are less conducive to real experimentation. Secondly, the Exploratorium offers classes that allow real interaction with scientists and with the scientific process. Third, some of the exhibits actually have the ability to teach concepts in a hard science sort of way.

Another thing you want from a museum is enough variety for repeat visits. Yes, we’ve all been tourists and enjoyed a visit to a museum in another town, but tourists should not be the focus of a museum like the Exploratorium. In its present incarnation, I’m sure tourists can have fun, but locals love it, too, over and over. The last time I went to the Exploratorium I discovered a whole area I hadn’t ventured into yet, and was enticed into an interactive exhibit run by a young museum employee who was doing a great job of teaching kids just a little bit about the cells in their bodies.

So if fun and attraction (see paragraph 1!), depth, and variety are the marks of a good museum, the Exploratorium is doing great.

But there are clouds on the horizon. As you may have heard, the Exploratorium has to move. The Palace of Fine Arts is perhaps the weirdest and coolest place they could have started, but the building is unsafe and can’t easily be retrofitted. Also, tourists have a hell of a time getting to it. So they’re off to Pier 15. You got it: soon to be neighbors of Fisherman’s Wharf, overpriced snow globes, and the best place in San Francisco to have your wallet stolen.

Here’s the vision they present on their website:

Learning will happen everywhere. With room inside and out, Pier 15 doubles the exhibition space, doubles the number of classrooms and triples the Exploratorium’s capacity for teacher development. The Learning Commons, Learning Studio and theater provide additional places for the general community and educational professionals to gather and learn. Today, two out of three teachers are turned away from the Exploratorium’s nationally recognized Teacher Institute — considered one of the premier professional training opportunities for K-12 science and math teachers in the Bay Area and beyond. The new Exploratorium will almost triple the number of teachers who come to learn.

Here’s my fear: Yet another overpriced, overdesigned museum where they treasure the air space more highly than the space between your ears. Yet another place where they try to please everyone and fail to please anyone.

On my last visit to the Exploratorium, an employee nabbed me and asked if I’d take part in a little research they were doing. She had me play with an exhibit and then asked me questions. The exhibit in question had no signs, no symbols, nothing that would tell me what to do or what it was about. It was moderately fun to play with, but I wasn’t sure of the science behind what was happening enough to be able to answer my daughter’s questions.

After the employee had asked me her questions, I posed mine:

Why doesn’t this exhibit have any explanations of the science behind it?

“We’re trying to move away from explicit telling people facts and toward allowing them to intuitively explore scientific principles.”

Aha.

What would you expect me to get from this? There wasn’t even an arrow to tell me how to use the darn thing.

“Well, we want people to use their intuition.”

And if intuition fails me?

Americans are presently the deer in the headlights of scientific advancement. We see that science is the key to the future, and we’re wondering, are we going to miss this train? So frantically, our politicians, educators, and museum curators are trying to figure it out. How can we teach a reluctant population to value science?

The thing is: Americans in general never did much value science, except as it increased the speed of their automobiles or improved the taste of their sodas. Our scientists have always been outsiders: losers, weirdos, outcasts, immigrants. Think I’m exaggerating? Read a little bit about Ben Franklin. Meet my scientist friends. Some of them didn’t come from families that valued science, but they were drawn in because they wanted to get in and get their hands dirty, not because they wanted to be entertained.

A museum that tries to attract the tourist crowd is going to succeed in entertainment, another easily digestible stop before you’re off to the next sight. But it will fail in inspiration and teaching and hard work. And that’s what we need.

I have a deep fear that when the new Exploratorium opens, we’ll see the Academy of Sciences all over again. Ooh, ah, look at that amazing building! Hey, look, they have this great curriculum on their website. Then you go to the amazing building, you ooh and ah about all the space and light, and then find out that science, like natural history, is being taught as either received wisdom or something not worth putting into words.

Sorry, folks. If you want kids to learn science they’re just going to have to read. They’re going to have to write. They’re going to have to (gasp) deal with numbers. Yes, it might be nice to reach them through intuition, but you can’t stop there. You have to impress upon them the fact that they will have to use their brains. And it will hurt. And it will be complicated. And it will be frustrating.

And it will be worth it. That’s how to teach science. But if you design a museum to entertain all, it will enlighten no one.

Going green, going cheap

A friend and I were talking about how all this emphasis on “going green” was getting her down. Her family is presently in reduced economic circumstances, and she said, “I feel like we can’t afford to be green!”

So we started to talk about all the ways in which her family is actually living a “green” lifestyle. There are plenty of ways to live a lifestyle that has less impact on our Earth and also save money. Here are a few we came up with:

1. Reduce the number of vehicles you use, and/or use public transportation or good old-fashioned muscle power

My friend’s family made a conscious decision years ago to only have one car. For a family, this is a big decision. I know a few families who have done this, and it has had a great impact on their lives. On one hand, they lose convenience and the ability to make spur-of-the-moment decisions like “Hey, let’s go to Monterey today!” On the green side, they are forced to make conscious decisions about how they use their vehicle and whether it’s worth the trouble. One spouse usually rides his bike, which saves us from that much more pollution. (Even if you don’t believe in global warming, you can agree that this is a net benefit. Not to mention the fact that he’s probably a lot healthier and will thus take up fewer health care dollars as he ages.) And if they both need to get somewhere in a vehicle, one takes public transportation or finds a carpool. These days, most families with kids don’t even bother to carpool. If you’re forced to consider it, you end up getting used to doing it and saving gas even when you don’t need to. And on the upside, you get to chat with your friends all the way to Monterey!

2. Fix rather than buy new

My friend’s family has fixed their dishwasher twice when in the past they would probably have bought a new one. That’s saving the landfill from another fixable dishwasher. My husband is great at trying to get new parts when something breaks. I have to admit I’m not so great at it. But amazingly, he has nursed along the Cuisinart I bought in the late 1980’s by buying a new insert for it (even more amazing: they keep manufacturing that same bowl), he updated our mini-Cuisinart (which we use more often) three times before they stopped making the parts, he’s fixed our bread machine (which we use heavily to make dough) more times than I can count, and he got our rice maker at least ten more years of life by buying new parts. Each time he does this, it doesn’t necessarily save us a lot of money. But it does save us enough to make it worth it, and it saves the earth lots in terms of things not thrown away.

3. Reuse rather than recycle

Recycling is great. We recycle everything we can. However, not everything can be recycled. And things that can be recycled often can be reused a number of times before you give up on them. My friend is a teacher and goes to the wonderful RAFT in San Jose, where they take in all manner of refuse from Silicon Valley companies (stickers, backpacks with event names stamped on them, CD-ROMs of obsolete software, coasters with event names stamped on them, resources such as glue that are a little past their prime, carpet samples from the revamping of the headquarters of some high-flying start-up, the spools that all those CD-ROMs came on…). RAFT then takes this… garbage… and turns it into teaching materials, teacher supplies, and enormous bins of what-have-you that teachers might be able to use. Teachers go in there and shop away. They come out with a year’s worth of supplies — plus that new computer backpack they needed — for $50. Not only is this a great deal for one of our more beleaguered groups of professionals, but it saves all this stuff from going to the landfill. For my part, I got sick of trying to find new uses for more and more plastic yogurt containers, and I started to make my own yogurt. Yes, there are trade-offs (gas to go to the store vs. energy to run the yogurt maker), but the net benefit is that I reuse my yogurt containers over and over, and seldom put one into the recycling bin.

4.Grow and process your own food

My friend spent a few weeks this last autumn offering her friends an apple count. “So far,” she’d announce on a Monday, “I have made 6 gallons of apple cider.” And then, “this weekend I dried ten pounds of apple slices.” I see her kids still munching on those apple slices months later, so I know that they are not going to waste. If you think my friend is a farmer and making some special effort, well, you couldn’t be further off. They live in the city. Their apple trees need little care. They sit on the edge of their small property and give the fruits of their labor yearly and freely. It takes little thought to plant a fruit tree in a spot where you want some shade, or to fill your flower beds with cabbage or snow peas. If you’re going to use the water anyway, why not bear fruit with it? When I was a child, we grew huge amounts of stuff on our 5 acres. I have such fond memories of canning days. I’m sure my mother doesn’t, but these days, even she is relenting. She mentioned to me just the other day that she was so astounded by how much she’d just paid for a jar of something, “I’d better get back into canning.” My parents have a farm, and we try to be good, but we end up throwing away embarrassing amounts of rotten food. We do get some of it to Second Harvest, and much of it appears on our friends’ doorsteps, but the rest really should get itself into cans and the freezer so that we can store away the little bits of energy and water that went into the harvest.

5. Be conscious of your choices, but not draconian

I can name one very conscious choice I have made in our food habits: I no longer buy something that’s wildly out of season here that has been shipped in from the other side of the world. In my case, this boils down to one particular thing: I love asparagus. But frankly, the asparagus I wait for in California is so much sweeter because of its absence the rest of the year. I see the asparagus from Chile available in September, and I remember that if I bide my time, local asparagus will be all that much sweeter. But on the other hand, I have to admit that I don’t deny my family an occasional mango. The ability to get a mango far from the tropics is one of the benefits of our modern life. I don’t go overboard, but since I can’t wait for mango season to come to Northern California, I’m happy to bend the rules a bit to bring that sweetness into our lives.

Let’s be serious here: few of us are going to go back to Little House on the Prairie for our lifestyle. You, dear readers, may be vegan locavores or back to simple self-sustainers, but the rest of us are here in this modern life. We’re not going to be perfect. But that doesn’t mean that our little choices are meaningless.

So today, my message is that you can make a small difference, and it’s not worthless. Go ahead: buy the cabbage instead of the asparagus. Go ahead and feel good about it. I’m giving you permission. Save a little money, and save a little bit of our future.

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