Let The Debriefing Begin!

I know very few to none are going to read this full mess, a few more will skim it, and most will just completely ignore it. But getting people to read has never been the point of this blog. I've always found writing is my choice medium for collecting and clarifying my thoughts, and this is no different. So, whether you care or not, let the debriefing begin.

My life this summer has been like an Ibsen play. The author feels no need to secure a happy ending, but rather likes to throw people into situations and see how they react, regardless of what strings must be pulled. As soon as I find something I can enjoy and rejoice in, the Universe decides to play a malicious game of keep away with my happy. Today was my last day teaching these kids, since tomorrow is a "fun day" where they'll have rope courses and stuff like that. I was pretty happy about being done, as this job has been a strain on my patience and confidence in the future. But more on that later.

Once I came home, it was supposed to be simple. An easy night of relaxing and catching up with friends across the Ocean. I don't know what I was thinking. Why would I want to ever make things simple for myself? I turned on my computer, and it freaked out. I've had issues with computers before, but never like this. A program on my computer "AntiVir Solution Pro" was telling me that almost every program file on my computer was infected. I didn't remember installing such a program, as I already have triple redundancy in my computer security (Norton, Symantec, and this thing called CA Security Suite), so I don't know why I would have downloaded a trial version of a 4th. But considering this "spyware program" wouldn't let me go on the internet (I opened Mozilla Firefox, and I was told that Internet Explorer was blocking a potentially malicious sight. Very fishy), I suspected all was not well.

Literally every program was reported as "infected". I tried to open up the backup program for my external harddrive, and it was blocked. I tried to open up the in-house system restore feature, and again, was blocked. Could not open a single program. I couldn't even wipe my hard drive and reboot the system. Fully paralyzed. As I slowly realized I had gotten cluster-f*cked by a bogus virus scanning program, I had to laugh. Laughter slowly developed in to weeping, and weeping took a left turn at punching things and floored it down swearing boulevard. So I tried using my mom's computer to look up how badly I had screwed myself. I found several sights with unhelpful suggestions, recommending I do things like go on the internet and download another virus scanning program (uh uh uh, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice, and I might as well bend over and...well, yeah). The solutions that didn't require me to download things, had instruction that followed something like this:

1. Find this hidden folder that is called something completely different in Vista. We don't know what it's called, so good luck.
2. Find this hidden file that's a string of random letters and numbers. Every time the virus infects a computer, it's a different string of random letters, so we can't tell you an exact file name. Oh, and all the other important system files in that folder are also named by a string of random letters. You can try this, but we can't guarantee success.
3. Since you probably couldn't do the first two steps, you might as well bend over...and unplug your computer because it will never work again.

If it wasn't for Safe Mode, I wouldn't be able to write this post, so thank God (who can't go faster than the Speed of Light) for that. I think this is also a sign that I should take the plunge and just go ahead and upgrade to Windows 7.

So ignoring those 4 hours that were delivered unto the Gods of Futility as temporal sacrifice, it was a pretty good day today. As I said, it was relatively easy. I had decided that I deserved an easy day for once. So we played with bubbles. And learned. Always learning.

After some 11th hour planning, and an ingenious suggestion from Angela, I settled on showing the kids how to make square bubbles.

Square Bubbles! Impossible you might say. I had the exact same reaction. But observe how I speak the truth.

And,

Huzzah! True, not what I imagined when I heard Square Bubbles (I was thinking of those crazy bubbles Spongebob blew), but rather mind blowing. Kudos.

But it wasn't just a "blow bubbles" day. They had to learn science. That's how this whole teaching thing goes. I explained about the micell structure of soap, and the weird polarity things that accompany it (something I only remember hearing off hand in 7th grade). I also went over why the sphere is a geometrically favorable shape (ratio of volume to surface area). It was a great lesson to reinforce somethings we have gone over, as well as teach them something practical (why soap works the way it does).

With the oldest group, E group, we did a Mythbusters experiment based on the Humpty Dumpty myth. The task was: put humpty dumpty together again. I suppose I am learning, because I had the foresight to tell them to go out side to do the experiment. I still have much to learn, as I should have rephrased the instruction "smash it against the ground".

One group was able to successfully put the egg back together again, while the others made a terrible mess. Here's the reassembled egg:

A little more tape than I would have liked, but they did it. And were very pleased with themselves. Pictures cannot be posted for certain reasons.

And I give you my pen-ultimate shirt pocket:

And because I decided I would give myself an easy day, my pocket is empty. But my heart is full. I challenge someone to come up with something cornier.

My last class of this program had 3 kids in it because it was one of the small groups to begin with, and many had already gone home:

And as I sat there watching my kids have the time of their life with nothing more than a bucket of soapy water, I started mentally debriefing, pondering, and thinking, as I must always do towards the end of a project.

I think it's fair to say that I've grown a lot in the past 7 weeks of this program. I had never worked with kids in this capacity before, always opting for work with the elderly as my community service of choice. And though there are many similarities (frequency of bowel movements, short attention spans, the smell), they differ greatly. I've learned how to command the attention of distracted, ADD little children, if only for a few moments of the day (talk loudly and be the most distracting thing in the room). I've learned how to deal with them on an individual basis (it's very important to go down to their level, and meet them at their height). I can definitely say that I've picked up important job (and life) skills from this experience. Though I have much to learn and to improve upon, the task managing children no longer seems so daunting. And after this experience, I know I will make a great father. Someday. I do find it odd that after through this program, I began to feel protective of some of these kids. I take it as a good sign. Papa Bear, that whole complex.

But what's more striking than how I've grown, is how I've come to view myself. I've always struggled with viewing myself as the appropriate age. As a young kid, I always felt much older than everyone else. Perhaps it was because I was well behaved and didn't do the immature things that make teachers cry (experience), but I felt too old for my classmates. As I grew old, this feeling inverted, and I struggled to view myself as old. And when I finally turned 18, went off to college and became "independent", I still felt like I was in middle school, trying to figure out how this whole "switching classes for each subject" thing worked.

Up until this summer, I'd found it hard to think of myself as an adult, and a member of the workforce. My first job, working in an engineering lab, did nothing to cultivate my personal maturity, as I worked under a pile of grad students, researchers, post docs, and a PI in the insular womb of academia. Even working on my own research project did nothing for me. But this summer has changed a lot. I feel like an adult.

I look back and I'm pleasantly surprised by what I was able to accomplish. I proposed and planned my own curriculum. I conducted 5 hours of classes each day on my own, following my own lesson plans. This and the many little things along the way have changed my personal perception. Which is a good thing.

I've been mentally planning the timeline of the next few years for some time now. After Yale, let's say another 4 years of grad school. Getting a job, getting married, getting a family, that whole bit. It all seemed so grown up, and so imminent. And it honestly terrified me. Aside from the legal reasons (and a whole host of other ones), I've never touched alcohol because it seemed too mature. I didn't feel like I was anywhere near being at a point in my life where it didn't seem odd and out of place. And while I'm still too young for some of the things I've mentioned above, and I have much left to grown into, for the first time in my life I feel on track. Not mired down by social retardation, by keeping even with the pack. It feels good.

And here's my final thought for the night:

I've also found the converse is true. This program has made me feel very young. I think many scientists become jaded by academia, since it indeed becomes much harder and much more abstract. Unless you're the type that really really likes numbers (not me), science can seem like a chore at times. But this experience has reintroduced me to some of the fundamental wonders of the natural world. Magnets are still awesome, and still seem like black magic to me. Baking Soda and Vinegar will forever make me giggle. And bubbles, well, they're bubbles, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I'm sure as I become busier and more entrenched in this whole living thing, that I'll lose sight of what I type here. As I dive deeper into my engineering courses in the fall, I'll forget how awesome even the simplest circuit is, or how a high pitched squeal of joy can light up a room. But in this rare moment where I have time to think, debrief and ponder, I can appreciate the wholeness of this experience, the complexity of emotion and sentiment.

The aging of eternal youth. I think that sort of sums it up for now. Ah, look at the time. I must be going, as I must still go to work in the morning. So that will be it for now, readership. I know most won't make it this far in the post, and I'd even be so cocky that no one will bother with these last few sentences. But that's perfectly fine. They've served their purpose.

Sometimes Pocket Protectors Are The Way To Go

I prefer to live an unencumbered life. I never understood why women chose to carry purses and bags, when pockets are so much easier. I mean, they're attached to your body by virtue of the existence of hips, and with the right cargo pants, you could carry the entire Lord of the Rings Trilogy, The Hobbit, and The Silmarillion on your person at all times (not that I speak from experience or anything...). However, I do have some sense of fashion, if you wish to call it that. I've never willingly wore a waist-pouch/fanny pack because they are ridiculous and make you a target for bullies and lowlifes (again, not speaking from experience). And I would suppose pocket protectors would fall in the same line, those articles clothes that instantly pigeon-holes you in a certain social class...
...like overalls...
...or hooker shoes.
But I cannot help but deny my true dorkdom. Running around class all day, tending to hopeless children who don't know how to fold paper in half, or use a straw to transfer a liquid, the shirt-pocket has become my best friend. Pencils, markers, dry erase pens, rulers, scissors, straws, chopsticks, bags of apples have all found their way in to my shirt pocket (this was just one day). By the end of the day, my shirt pocket is so laden down with the tools of my trade that my shirt starts to sag in a rather unflattering manner. Here's what my shirt looked like half-way through the day today:

The tally is three dry erase pens, a black ball point pen, a mechanical pencil, a mini-ruler, two black Sharpie pens, my name tag, a clarinet reed and mouthpiece (I had a bet with one of the girls that I could play clarinet. She owes me $10. I intend to collect), and finally a small foam plane. Why the small foam plane you ask? Well, one of my darling students, A--, came to school today, like any other day. However, today of all days, his mother forgot to come and give him his medication. Medication that he desperately needs to calm down. Medicine I really wish he had today. So while he was throwing his plane around my classroom while I was trying to get everyone settled, I crept up behind him and snatched it out of the air, refusing to return it to him unless he settled down and kept quiet the rest of the class. In all seriousness, I'm told he has a behavioral condition where he doesn't understand consequences and cannot process things like that, so I wasn't surprised he was running around 5 minutes later.

But yes, I love my shirt-pocket. It has served me so well, and perhaps I'll get it a nice pocket protector as a treat. All I need is a slide-rule and I'm a nerd from the 70's. Home sweet home.
I do seriously want a slide rule. I think I know how they work, in theory. Either that or an astrolabe, but I think slide rules are easier to procure and operate.

Today was hell. The only saving grace was that I got paid for my first full week (I thought it was just a part time gig, but when you add up the actual hours, it's a little more that 3/4 time). And even though the Gov'ment took a huge chunk of my hard earned money for silly things like Medicare and Social Security, it's nice to be rewarded. But, boy, did I have to work for that money today. I don't know what it was today. Perhaps it was a particularly exciting weekend with Father's Day and all. Perhaps there was too much sugar in their canned peaches. I don't know, but they were horrible. Absolutely horrible. I did a lot of yelling and pointing. A lot of time-outs in the corner and "this is your special chair. You will sit in this chair for the rest of class. I don't want to hear you talk. At all." At which point I would drag the chair to the farthest corner. At one point, the youngest group took their customary bathroom/water break during my class (I've learned to schedule in this disruption), leaving only 4 students in the room with me. They decided it would be a good idea to hide under the desks and yell surprise when the other kids came back. I told them several times "no". I even physically "removed" them from under the desks. But they would not be denied their surprise. I'll leave the ensuing screaming, shouting, running and punching to your imagination (no, I did not punch any of the kids. Not to say I didn't think about it).

Today we did chromatography with paper towels and various pens and markers. I had the older groups in the morning, which was inspiring, if not a little messy. They understood the whole deal with polarity and travel distances along the chromatography strip. Even the younger 1st/2nd graders understood it to a certain extent. But, damn, was this messy. I thought, okay, markers are pretty clean. Ha, I have so much to learn. Because the instruction "just dip the tip", an illustration on the board, and an up close, one-on-one demo by yours truly is simply not clear enough to convey the message "don't dunk the whole thing in the alcohol", the ink went everywhere. I have things to clean up this week. Pretty much every single desk. Goody.

Things to look forward to at the end of the week:
We'll be starting biology, with adaptation and evolution games at the end of the week. Haven't done this since Bio Honors with Liem in 9th grade, but I think I remember everything.

Friday we have an open house, for which I must prepare a video of sorts, and some other presentation of sorts. Followed immediately by a sleepover for the older kids. Luckily most of my kids aren't sleeping over (thank god. I guess they came to the same realization that sleeping in a cafeteria is not fun. I know what they drop on the floor. And I know no one mops the floor either). I'm told I'm not supposed to sleep since I'm chaperoning. We'll see how that goes. As long as I can find an internet connection, I think I can manage. Either that or I can spend my time tormenting the kids. I have a black hooded cape and scary masks. I'm sure I can think of something to do. Don't worry, it's nearly impossible for little kids to have heart attacks. They have been known to wet themselves though.

Sometimes I Forget Who I'm Talking To

On Friday, I decided to give my students a little creative problem solving exercise. The lesson previous, I had gone over polarity and density of compounds, using a density column of corn syrup, water, and oil, as a means of segueing into Chemistry (thank you to Angela She for the lesson plans). I thought this would lay a great foundation for a problem solving exercise that's quite relevant: Solve the BP Oil Crisis.

I am by no means pioneering in this endeavor, as it is a well known secret that kids can be the best problem solvers, since their creativity isn't hindered by social rationalizations and self-consciousness. Considering a truly viable solution has yet to be found (well, it depends on who you ask. I have my own opinion), I thought it wouldn't hurt to let 89 elementary school students have a stab at it.

I presented each group with two problems: how to seal the broken pipe, and how to handle the oil slick. I gave them all the stats: how far down the hole is (around 5,000 ft) and how far out (26 miles) as well as other pertinent data, and told them to go for it.

I ran into a bit of a problem when describing the current state of the fractured well. I tried to pull out all the technical jargon and explain it to them simply. I said: "Okay, there's a big hole in the middle of the ocean and it's spewing all this crabcakes out into the ocean..." Except I didn't say crabcakes. It's weird, now, for me to think of crap as a bad word, since I use it so often. But the glare from my mother who was working in the back told me that teachers should not use that word around 3rd graders. Surprisingly, none of the kids seemed to notice, nor did they make a big fuss that I swore. So either they didn't notice, or they've become desensitized to the word. I think I'm going to test this out by swearing more. A list of your favorite expletives and ideas on how to work them into a science lesson would be much appreciated from the readership.

So back to the lesson. I was pleasantly surprised by some of the ideas. Most decided to just shove a bunch of crap into the hole to plug it up. Some came up with the solution BP is currently employing: sticking a narrow tube into the hole to siphon off some of the leaking petroleum.

The second problem, how to deal with the oil slick, drew more creative solutions. My favorite called for a fleet of thousands of robotic fish to swim around and eat up the oil. I asked the student how she was expecting to pay for thousands of high-tech robots, to which she replied "my dad will pay for it". Another called for a giant corral type thing to scoop up all the oil. Some of the students actually used what they had learned previously about density and polarity, and suggested collecting the oil and seawater in a tanker, and decanting the oil from the water.

My biggest surprise of the day came from E----, a special ed. student that has his own para-professional aide to monitor his behavioral issues. This student, I had been warned, was known to assault teachers, in addition to the usual host of behavioral problems. However, he was perhaps the smartest student of the day. He came up with maybe 9 different solutions, each well thought out and at the very least plausible, solutions I think BP would have liked to hear. I've been told that many behavioral problems arise from a lack of stimulation, that the child becomes bored and begins to act out. Perhaps that's what caused E----'s uncharacteristically well-behaved performance on Friday. I'm going to keep an eye on this. Very intriguing.

I've been trying to drive home everyday from work, since I have yet to get my license (I'm going to renew my permit for the 3rd time later this month). I'm not the best driver, yet, but I'm....competent. Usually. My dad always yells at me, telling me going at the speed limit is too slow. As a result, I've developed a bit of a lead foot, and a waning patience. As we were driving home from the school, we approached a 4 lane intersection. In the corner of my eye I could see someone crossing the street. I figured I best just speed through the intersection, since the pedestrian was taking forever to cross the street. I guessed I missed timed it a bit because I almost ran them over. I could see them not 3 feet away from me as I sped past them. And as their figures passed my window, I saw who I had almost run down. An old woman. And her granddaughter. In a wheelchair. With a cast. You can't make this stuff up. A few seconds later, I would have hit the world's best sympathy case. Lesson learned, patience is a virtue. Or if you do hit something, drive away before they can read your plates. Haha, I'm just joking. There'd be no witnesses left.

Next week marks a whole lot of Chemistry. Not only a lot of my favorite science, but another 4 day week, since Friday we're taking the kiddies to Ice Palace, Hawaii's only skating rink. I haven't ice skated in nearly 8 years, and even then I wasn't very good. I mostly clung to the walls and slowly drifted from the natural rotation of the earth. However, this time I'm supposed to be chaperoning 89 elementary school kids, who are all faster and more athletic than I am. And they know it.