Curiosity

Styrofoam balls again! Everyone in K built a spider. Key points:

• Eight legs
  
• Two body segments, the cephalothorax and the abdomen. As of last Wednesday, everybody in K can say "cephalothorax"
  
• Lots of eyes
  

I also brought in my nice cattleya plant from home, just because it's nice to look at, and also in case the concept of epiphytes might be a conversation starter. It wasn't, but everybody liked smelling the flowers.



Naturally the cattleya and spider-building had to be squeezed in around the corners as your star questioners had all sorts of things they wanted to ask about, including a big agenda of How Much Does x Weigh.

Over in Silver Surfers, the Question Box suddenly and delightfully kicked into high gear, yielding great heaps of questions. There was widespread interest in how brains work, and how large they are, and whether they are made of chunks, and if so how large are the chunks. I diagrammed a neuron with the usual dendrites and axons, and some suggestions about learning as synapse formation. (Segues on brain lesions, electricity, size and quantity of cells . . .)

Intriguing meta-question from the audience: "How can we not know how brains work? They're right here and available for inspection all the time, and we use them constantly!". As always, I have forgotten the wording of the question, so it comes back to you in fully analytical adult language. One of these days I will learn to transcribe, or memorize, or record, questions as asked. In the meantime, this becomes a cognitive-science observation. I remember the question with perfect accuracy in terms of what did she want to know and what did she ask for, but have no record of either the words or the sounds and phonemes that were used. This tells us something about what brains do and do not store.
Also essential in the brain discussion is the we do not know part of it. Key messages for Science Specialist class are

• Nobody knows the answer to that (I'm not just hiding the answer, and it doesn't mean there is something wrong with your question)
  
• This doesn't mean a dead end to your question. You could even make it your work - - later - - to find the answer. Although I cannot fulfil your request for knowledge today, you can see that as an opportunity rather than a setback.
  

Between that and the other questionBox contents, and some logistics around the orchid ("I can't smell the flower yet! ! Bring it closer! !") we actually ran through the whole time available without getting to Demonstration. I take this as a sign of success, when curiosity and participation are pumped up to this level.
The pre-class sidebar time worked well, too, as a child had the opportunity to ask me about What Do Germs Look Like. I sketched for him an e. coli , a staphylococcus, and a spirochete. The fact that we were not in circle makes the conversation very tightly connected, as computer guys say, and I think he is therefore more attentive to His Personal Answer. Also, we attract eavesdroppers like fruitflies to a banana. "What's going on here? I want to know too! Let me see!" Which is a fine way for learning to happen.

100%

In K class, I got to complete the ice-water-steam-vapor demonstration that was cut off due to lack of time the week before. The demo gets more exciting when you show that "other things also have solid and liquid states". To do this, you melt some butter (smells nice), then you get out your pocket butane torch and melt some solder, which is an eye-opener for somebody who's never seen metal turn runny, and drip and splash.
We also talked about lava and spiders.
Lava and spiders?
Sure, great combination.
Actually it was mostly about spiders, and the lava is more like a universal constant - - everybody loves lava, you can talk about it at any time of day or night, and kind of weave it into unrelated conversations. Would you like Corn Flakes or Cheerios? I'd like Corn Flakes, with molten lava please.
The spider discussion - - launched by one question in the question box - - achieved a marvellous 100% participation rate. Sometimes I think that you are wondering, does my child participate in these science fandangoes? In this case, the answer is yes because absolutely everybody had at least one question or a comment. 100%.
A remarkable question during the Q&A concerned whether spiders are reptiles. That might sound odd, but it gets interesting when you hear the full question as asked:

Since spiders lay eggs, does that mean they are reptiles?

Now we see that the questioner is thinking really hard, and very rationally. I want to construct large sweeping rules of categorization! I have data, but I need more data! How significant is egg-laying as a classifier?

For Silver Surfers we had an action dramatization of the role of blood in the body. As a blood cell, I ran around the circle of body cells (the role of body cell was excellently played by a cast of Silver Surfers), and brought needed cell nutrition (represented by peanuts) to the cells, and took away metabolic waste (represented by peanut shells). I also handed out a few choice oxygen molecules (the ubiquitous styrofoam balls) to those cells that needed them.
I wonder if I could make like a leitmotif of always including at least one styro ball in every class.
Science as conceptual/performance art.
Maybe Yoko would be interested.
Did the action drama work? Do all the students suddenly understand blood circulation? Let me know if any clues pop out. Sometimes we find out many months later, when a remark pops out of the blue "sure, Mom, I know what blood does. It carries food just like our science specialist handing out peanuts!"

Insect blood (or, hemolymph anyway) is quite different. For one, it doesn't actually flow in tubes. It just slops around. So you'll never see an insect as big as a Golden Retriever because the system for getting nutrition to cells is just not good enough. As we say in computer science, it's not scalable. For another thing, insect hemolymph does not carry oxygen. At all. It's just not in the job description.

Scientist in the Crib

I love this gem from The Scientist in the Crib. While most of the book is about babies, here's a paragraph about adults:

When we look attentively, carefully, and thoughtfully at the things around us, they invariably turn out to be more interesting, more orderly, more complex, more strange, and more wonderful than we would ever have imagined. That's what happened when Kepler looked carefully at the stars, when Darwin looked at finches, when Marie Curie looked at pitchblende ore.

now put it ALL together . . .

And it's also what happened when Jane Austen looked at a provincial village and Proust looked at a Madeleine cookie, when Vermeer looked at a girl making lace, and Juan Gris looked at a café table.

. .. yeah

Alex the Parrot, 1976 - 2007

Sad news of the death of Alex the parrot.

I found the link where you can watch Alex do some of his feats of cognition. (Scroll down in the page until you find ENTERTAINING PARROTS).

. . .of many things. . .

The K class had so many questions, and stayed so attentive to the exegesis, we just about ran out of time without getting to the official Weekly Demo. Water, ice, and vapor, that was supposed to be the demo material: but by the time I realized the half hour had flown by, I felt a little foolish with my compressed demo which seemed to have melted down to "here's an ice cube. gotta go".
Let's see, how did this come about? I brought in two Rhinoceros books from the library. (They're available right now in the classroom). I don't know what thoughts go through your mind when you first glance at the cover photo on a rhino book. Perhaps "boy, he's big" or "I wonder what lens they used", or "was it dangerous trying to get just the right angle?". In this class, at least two alert observers burst out with "he is DIRTY!". We had a marvellous time speculating on reasons why rhinoceros might want to be dirty (or, more properly, would benefit from being dirty), might go out of their way to get really properly gunked up. We imagined them after a heavy rainfall, discovering with horror that their skin had been washed - - ugh! - -fresh and clean. So. If any of your kindergarteners have been showing bizarre attitudes about bath, or have been rolling in dust outside, you know whom to blame.
After that excitement settled, we took up How Far Away Are The Stars, which is a delicious opportunity to introduce the speed of light. I must say these K kids do ask splendid questions.

Over in Silver Surfers, I thought I'd offer a demo in measuring temperature -- I got a nice Celsius thermometer last year off Craig's list, and have been waiting for a chance to share it, and it seemed like something that could be tinkered with during the whole week. But somehow, here too, we ran out of time. As followup to last week's methane molecule (you know, methane is the main ingredient in natural gas) I brought in a pocket propane torch ("it's not methane, which I don't own a tank of, but it's close"). Methane is actually odorless, and Texas Gas Service adds a stinky perfume to it so you'll notice a gas leak before your house blows up. It turns out that pocket propane torches also have an absolutely vile stink added. And would everybody in the class like to smell the stink? Oh YESsss! EEE-eeew!
Before the whole stinky-propane routine there was a good deal of buzz over this little guy that a student brought in - -






is this a leech? If he's a leech he should have itty bitty eyes at the front end, and I can't find any. He's not one of the plain-dark-brown type leech. But there are lots of leech species. Are there lots in Texas? Guides to the (cute and cuddly) segmented worms of Texas don't seem to be so easy to find. The leech topic, though, dominated conversation for some time even after we had (or thought we had) moved on to other topics. Leeches, insect blood, bilirubin - - hmm - - we have a theme here. So far nobody has volunteered to be the leech's dinner. (Parental permission would be required for this experiment).

Now about sidebar discussions. It's a really promising opportunity we have this year. Per the official schedule I arrive in the Silver Surfer classroom about 10-15 minutes before Science Circle time. Writer's workshop is proceeding, and students have the choice to continue writing or come chat quietly with me if they want. Chat, that is to say devour information at high speed. I look forward to some fascinating sessions here. Not much happened this week in pre-circle sidebar time, but I was lucky to have a student come to me after class to ask Who Was The First Human. (I predict this question will be asked at least twice per year by every class). We stepped away from Music Circle to talk about how gradual change accumulates to huge change, the sorites paradox, and reasons why some information from the past is unobtainable. But oh! the delight of watching those 7 year old eyes staring intently, the mind testing new ideas, appraising them, working to understand them, starting to register the endless implications - - what a beautiful sight!

Let's all build molecules

You probably noticed the little construction of styrofoam and toothpicks that came home with your child.
The K class all built little water molecules (you only need three styrofoam balls) in what has become a perennial favorite science class exercise. Of course somebody eventually notices that the water molecule looks like Mickey Mouse, and hilarity ensues.
I figured the Silver Surfers needed a bigger challenge so we made methane molecules (CH4). Ideally these are built with perfect symmetry, so the molecular shape marks the vertices of a tetrahedron.

The K class rewarded me with a great heap of Questions in the Question Box. Rhinoceros, squirrels, fish, and the End Of The Earth were among the topics. Silver Surfers had kind of a slow start as far as the supply of questions.

Don't tell them I said so, but the worm that spent the week in K looked to me, uh, shall I say, health-challenged. It also did not appear to have eaten any of its newspaper (for all I know they need the paper to soften for a month or something before they can really devour it). The interesting thing was that the students dutifully recorded day after day (on the observation log) that some of the paper had been eaten. This case of observation-by-wishful-thinking reminds me of Langmuir's discussion of pathological science. That's not a topic for lower elementary, where we do better to apply positive reinforcement to the right sort of enquiry rather than deep critique of error; so I simply smiled and thanked them for their diligence, and brought the long-travelling worm – who perhaps should be named Laika -- home for a decent burial.

I had tried to build a sort of trough or channel to help visualize electricity (balls rolling in a circular path) for my deep-fundamental-question-asker in SilverSurfers. This apparatus showed, to be charitable, sub-optimal functioning. In a way that's a lesson too - - or it will be, if I can figure out how to build a better one (for under ten dollars and in less than four hours). "We tried this in the laboratory several ways and at last were rewarded with success". Also nice would be a way to show energy being captured out of the stream of (balls) (electrons). I tried to build a sort of water-wheel and it was so miserable I didn't even bring it in. (The trough was made of paper-towel tubes. I know, not so great – but the price is unbeatable).
Hmm… with a milling machine I could make an excellent trough in under an hour and under ten dollars. But I'd need the thousand-dollar tool first. Or a router. Yeah. "Honey, I really have been needing a router for a long time anyway".