Sub-par

 Hey, 6th grade. Nurturing a love of science? You're doing it wrong.

I run the risk of appearing negative or cynical as you make your way through these blog posts. But it is much more fun to write about things that go awry, than it is to wax poetic about motes of dust floating on sun beams. I am actually pretty Zen about things, and shed my anger as the humor of the situation finds its way into the folds of my brain. Life is fucking hilarious, and you can't make this shit up. Unless you are writing a memoir, then you can say whatever you want. I now present to you my stink-eyed view toward my son's 6th grade science curriculum.

My son loves solving problems, He enjoys science. He constantly asks great questions about the hows and whys of the physical world. Last summer he attended a STEM camp where the theme was "Moon Base" and he had such an amazing time that he was in tears at the end of the week. It was heart-breaking when he sighed, and asked why regular school couldn't be just like this week had been. And it had been fantastic. A week of learning scientific concepts, developing hypotheses and testing them. The practical application of what he was learning; it was ideal. Six hours a day of math and science and technology. The school district's foundation created a grant for this specific camp, and it was money well-spent. They were even able to procure an astronaut to come and give a presentation to the kids, who ranged from 5th-8th grades.

This year, his 6th grade science teacher is one of the teachers who led the camp, so we were both pretty stoked. We learned another grant would provide for a unit on robots, using sets of Lego Mind-storms. The year looked so promising.

Since this is the first time I have mentioned my son, I need to fill in a few details. He is, what in the olden-days, we would call a quirky kid. In the modern days we would still call him a quirky kid, but then we would diagnose his ass and medicate him pronto, to try to make him conform as much as possible to the current definition of a successful, sorry, compliant, student. Wanting to be a modern parent, that is just what I did. 

No - I'm kidding. Well, actually, it's complicated. In the lingo of parents of quirky kids everywhere, he is what is referred to as 2E. This is pertinent, because even though he has an IEP, his science and math teacher is reluctant to allow my son alternative ways to handle note-taking, tests and assignments. This has made the year challenging. We have dealt with it in many ways, including letting my son know that sometimes, you must work within the parameters you are given - and you still have to meet or exceed the expectations. Even if it means a 45 minute assignment takes you three hours to complete. There is so much I could say about this topic alone, but I just need to get on with the matter of the most recent project. The float-sink-float submarine.

I had hoped that this project would have disappeared in the five years since my daughter was in 6th grade. That project is a sonofabitch. The kids are learning about density, mass, volume, buoyancy and so on. The thing is, they perform a simplistic version of the experiment in the classroom with a paper cup and marbles. Having them perform this experiment at home doesn't do anything to further their understanding of the concepts involved. It does, however, provide an education on some new swear words that maybe they haven't heard before. So really, it's an English lesson. You know they don't really teach grammar or diagramming sentences in school anymore. Some examples to work from:

Oh for fuck's sake. 
Why the fuck isn't this thing sinking? It sank the last time.
What the fuck? Why are the tablets fizzing already?
I am going to fucking explode if this doesn't work.
 
My son was a full participant, with lots of ideas and suggestions. He completed scientific drawings and outlined the steps involved. He even christened the sub the "Abraham Sinkin'." Which is pretty rad. He ran the trials while I did the timing. So many trials. Dozens and dozens of trials. Eventually, we got the sub to work. It floated for 20 seconds, sank, and returned to the top about 30 seconds later. I created a duplicate sub as a back-up. It worked too.

Feeling wise, I had my son ask his teacher if we could record the experiment and upload it to YouTube, in case something happened and the sub didn't work come performance time. You see, the kids have to show their working sub to the rest of the class. For THREE DAYS of science class time, kid after kid will go to the front of the class and repeat the same thing, over and over and over. They get two chances to prove their sub works. Otherwise - zilch - you lose the points. And what with my son's difficulties with fine motor skills and a stutter, what could go wrong? Lots. 

The answer from the teacher? We could upload a video to YouTube if we liked, but the grade will only be based on the in-class performance. How disappointing. I mean, really? Why couldn't all of the kids upload videos of their submarines for the teacher and then bring the subs in to class so everyone could see each original design? If the kid couldn't upload a video, then they could still perform it for the teacher at school. Nope - three days will be spent humiliating some, and thrilling others.

The morning of the performance, we carefully packed the Abraham Sinkin' into a leftover Christmas gift box. Tablets preloaded into their compartment, so he wouldn't have to fumble with it at school. Extra tablets included. I checked to make sure the seals were tight, leaving as little to chance as possible. My son was beside himself, not wanting to go to school. That earlier robot unit I mentioned, the one using the Lego Mindstorms? His robot had trouble on the performance day and he got a "1" which means "fail." He was crushed, because he had worked so hard and because the robot worked prior to the performance. He still checks his grades online to see if that "1" might magically change. It never does. 

I said his name and made him turn to look at me square-on before he went out the door. "You worked hard on this, and you did everything right. You went beyond the requirements. Your sub picks up an object and it has an awesome name. You put great care into your drawings and your explanations, and you understand the math involved. If you sub doesn't work, we-don't-give-a-shit." Actually, I said "We don't care." But I am pretty sure he knew what I meant. He groaned and took off out the door and down the driveway.

Here is the Black Keys with Little Black Submarines...

 

By the way, his sub worked. On the first try. But some did not, and for that I am sorry.