She Blinded Me With Science 3/25/09

Spring is here and with it comes that annual staple, the elementary school science fair. Ah, the science fair. A place where budding scientists of all ages can suggest a hypothesis, create a thoughtful and insightful display to prove or disprove that hypothesis, and then completely abandon said display in order to see what their fellow scientists are up to.

One of the things about science is that it deals in Immutable Laws and absolutes (i.e. gravity). The science fair has its own set of laws and absolutes. There will be no less than five baking-soda-and-vinegar volcanoes, and at least seven “tornados in a bottle”. There will absolutely be an impressive display of moldy cheese and bread (a science experiment I conduct in my refrigerator monthly. FYI, mold grows faster on the sour cream lid than the salsa lid).

Kids will absolutely not stay with their project, choosing instead to leave mom, dad or a handy older sibling to explain their results while they run like a pack of wild hyenas looking for displays that involve candy. There seemed to be an unusually high number of candy experiments this year, prompting mini-mob scenes around these booths, begging for samples. My friend’s son gave up candy for Lent. She granted him a special dispensation for the fair at the risk of a major meltdown.

My son’s project involved gravity and how to calculate your weight on other planets. It was a simple matter of stepping on a scale and then multiplying your weight by a planet’s gravitational pull. I formed my own hypothesis prior to the fair. I guessed that not one single adult woman would step on that scale. My hypothesis proved correct. Hooray, I’m a scientist!

Each year I enjoy reading the guidelines for the fair, especially the types of exhibits that are not allowed. For example:

“Nothing that causes harm or stress to humans or animals” (This doesn’t include parents).
“No live vertebrate animals may be brought to the fair” (Giant squids are acceptable).
“No bacterial cultures” (Leave your E. Coli at home).
“No controlled substances” (Please, no “Breaking Bad” meth labs).
“No dangerous or combustible chemicals (See above).
“No open flames” (We love our school, save the open flames for the July bonfire).

How different from the science fair of my youth with bubbling test tubes and noxious chemicals (our junior high had asbestos, what could we do to make it any worse?) My most vivid memory is not of my own experiment, which I can’t recall, but my friend’s display: Dissection of a Fetal Pig. That poor unborn pig, splayed open on a display board, would have been disturbing enough if my mother hadn’t made things worse by bringing me a ham sandwich for lunch. Blech!

The science fair actually lends itself to its own experiments: How high will the gymnasium temperature rise when the collective body heat of moms, dads, kids, and grandparents is added? What is the loudest decibel level reached at the peak of the fair? Is there a limit to the patience and interest shown by the principal and assistant principal as they visit every project? (The answer to that is no, their patience is infinite.) And of course, how fast will the kids snap back to their booth when the trophy cart is wheeled in? (Immediately).

The best part of the fair is watching my child explain his project and realizing that he actually learned something in the process. As he happily accepts his trophy, I can’t help but put forth one last hypothesis: How long will that trophy serve as a proud reminder of his hard work and achievement? Hopefully forever.