The Maricopa County Fair is just around the corner, and Madi is hard at work (kind of. most days.) on her 4H Cloverbuds project. 4H was something we sort of fall into by accident, since neither Auntie or I know have ever really been a part of it, and we aren't exactly in a rural/farming area--it wasn't even on my radar until I saw that our local zoo sponsors an urban 4H group. And boy, do we love our zoo (But thats a post for another time).
So Madi turned 5. We signed up. We went to the first meeting.
And she heard there would be worms.
If theres one thing this girl loves, it's worms.
Serious, it was love at first sight (another post for another time!)
So, we stayed. Which brings us to the week before the County Fair.
Her project is about fossils, specifically, fossils we have found. She has loved all things earth science from before she could talk (rock and dinosaur were among some of her first signs), and every year we go to the
Flagg Gem and Mineral Show at the local community college. She saves her Christmas money to add new specimens to her collection, which currently spans 6 egg cartons, two coffee tins, and a miscellaneous bag of individually wrapped rocks. Every time we go hiking with Grandpa, the backpack comes back suspiciously heavy and the tins get a little more full.
We had a lot to sort through.
After much debate of the pros and cons, we settled on picking only from her prized egg carton: the fossil carton. However, it still has a fairly dizzying array of different types of fossils, including a pyritized ammonite from a beach in Britain that a friend sent over, a trilobite encased in sandstone, lots and lots of brachiopods/bivalves from all over the Oregon coast, sponges, coral and shark teeth from Northern Arizona, and crinoids from Utah.
So we added new criteria: only fossils she and I have personally found.
And eventually we narrowed it down to three.
But then we read the fine print on the entry form linked in our registration e-mail. All entries require an informational poster or placard, in a specific size (which of course we didn't have, so clearly time for a trip to Target).
And so THIS conversation began:
Me: "If this is something you want to enter in the Fair, you have to write information about it according to the rules."
Her: "I don't want to. I just want to enter the rocks."
Me: "I know you were just anticipating entering the rocks, but the director sent me an email and all the entries have to be labeled, so people who come to visit know what they're looking at."
Her: "I'll stand by it and explain it, then."
Me: "But the Fair is every day for a week, for 12 hours a day--later than your bedtime. Neither of us can commit to doing that."
Her: "Fine, then you write it."
Ah, the old, "You do it, then."
After more discussion--including why I wouldn't do it all (its not my entry, she's capable of doing it) and what I would do (I can help research what to write, help check spelling, even draw out a grid so there's a guide to make all the letters the same size)--we started what she has dubbed "THE NIGHTMARE," i.e., the poster.
Researching what to write was day 1. We visited multiple websites, read sections of geology and paleontology books, watched two documentaries, and settled on using the information a family favorite,
The Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs and Prehistoric Life, as it was the most up to date and reliable information. Being able to think critically about information and sources is extremely important. I don't want to cram Madi full of facts, which will only serve you so far, as much as I would like to set up a solid foundation of critical thinking that allows her to approach problems and work her way through them later on. So this was a fun way to talk our way through the Critical Thinking cheatsheet. Some of the sources were outdated, like Grandpa's geology textbook from the 1970s. Others had a decidedly religious bias, or were hosted by non-professional organizations
Hey there, Auntie Librarian inserting a bit of commentary. While Anna was writing this post she told me about the outdated or incorrect sources, and I wanted to share what we do in the library with such things: WEED THE CRUD OUTA THEM. If you're not familiar with the concept of weeding, it is basically taking materials off the shelves and donating them to book sales, or throwing them out. There are several reasons why this gets done, including but not limited to physical condition of the item and how many times it's been checked out. Not to be mean to the books; I love all books no matter how dilapidated they are. But it's a library's mission to not only provide information, but make sure they're providing the right information. Every weeding project makes me vaguely sad because sometimes the books we're removing are in pristine condition and I'd love to adopt them and give them a good home. But, if that beautiful looking book was published in 1985 and has only been checked out four times since then, there must be a reason. If that beautiful book is another copy of Grandpa's 1970's geology book, I'd rather donate it to a used book sale and hope some nice geologist/historian finds it useful to their research. I think Anna's point was that you should be discerning about your sources when doing research, which is absolutely true. I wanted to add that librarians also do their best to be discerning about what is on their shelves in the first place, to aid you in this process. Moving on...
Day 2 was the heavy writing day. Writing, for her, is a painstaking process. The grid helps--using a t-square we draw out a 1 inch grid all over the board, so we can then move a little window cutout one square at a time to focus on getting all the letters the same size and the right shape. Though it isn't perfect, it narrows down the visual distractions and helps mitigate a lot of her frustration when things don't turn out as well as she hoped.
I like working with her to figure out what tricks and tips help her organize her space and her mind to be optimally successful. How much support is required clearly will vary from project to project and task to task, but what I won't do--absolutely refuse to do!--is do the work for her.
There's many reasons for that (and because I'm mean, while fairly often suggested, is not one of them).
Ownership of a project leads to pride in her work, and lets her share the joy of what she's doing, since her projects are generally proposed and developed by her. I get to see what she's thinking, how she's thinking, what she's excited about--and thats fun! Also, the process is way more important than the product. That's where the learning happens! So much has been written about this that pretty much anything I say will be a boring rehash, but it's worth reiterating. Being involved is my main goal, and I do that by asking questions, making sure she has the right materials and resources, and helping model/plan time management, as well as providing encouragement when the going gets rough. I usually end up learning in the process (I had no idea that a fossil had to be at least 10,000 years old to count as a fossil. Now I do).
Which brings me to the discussion Auntie and I had staring at the (mostly finished) poster on day 3. Day 3 was going to be drawing what the fossils looked like, but Jeselyn mentioned that when she was a kid, her mom used to do her school projects, particularly the science ones.
And that set me off on a bit of a rant, because anyone who went to public school knew "That Kid," the one who's parents provided them with picture perfect projects. Many of us were those kids.
"Well," I retorted, "The great thing about homeschooling is when she goes to make a baking soda volcano, nothing is stopping me and you from doing it, too!"
"OH MY. CAN WE DRAW VOLCANOES???"
And so, laughingly, we did that instead.
All of us.
Including the baby.
And you know what? We all got to feel proud of our efforts!
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From left: Mom's, Auntie's (with help from Muffin), Madi's.
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