Friday, March 20, 2015

Who Knew "Play" Could Be So Deep?

    Wednesday was a special day for me. Why? Because I got to help an eight year old boy build an epic roller-coaster at the Children's Museum. By epic, I don't necessarily mean that the structure was fully functional as far as being able to put a ball in one end and it successfully coming out the other end, but the structure itself was indeed, EPIC. Just see for yourself!


 Here you can see the whole structure, including the big blocks we used to elevate the tubes near the back. When I said it wasn't fully functional, the ball inevitably wound up stuck in the tubes near the boy's feet; despite the sharp incline at the beginning of the coaster, it just didn't have enough speed to make it all the way back up the hill near the end. 




 Can I just say how great it felt
to have been given the privilege
of helping him construct this? Just sayin', I felt pretty special over the fact that he let me be a part of his grand project. 
    At first he wanted to make the track go full circle like a loop, but I think it eventually dawned on him that that wouldn't work; Darn physics. 

    Overall, he was a quiet worker, able to articulate which tubes he wanted to go where and able to identify which materials (poles) he should use. Also, he was quite resourceful, using large blocks and a plastic bin as supports for some of the tubes.  

    We worked off of his vision; I offered suggestions for where clamps should serve as supports, but I let him decide where he wanted the coaster to twist and turn. He was focused, and was visibly upset when other children came into the area; it seemed as though he felt threatened that they would ruin or impede his project. He was quick to ask them if they wanted to help him, however, and seemed genuinely disappointed when they chose to run off to some other exhibit. 

    As far as my role in this hour-long (or so) project, I served as a pair of helping hands, asking him questions to understand his thought process and prompt him to communicate his vision. I tried to make my help minimal--in the sense that I did not impose my own ideas about where we should put a tube or insist upon fastening a clamp when he could have easily done it; and even when he began to do things that I knew wouldn't work, I wanted him to experience trial and error on his own and see if he could problem-solve. He exemplified resourcefulness by using blocks from another exhibit and a plastic bin (where all the tubes are kept); however, he never quite understood the fact that the ball wasn't gaining enough speed to go back up the incline near the end of the coaster. Still, I didn't want to take over his project; it might have looked like our project, but I did my level-best to keep it as his project. This is the approach I have when interacting with any kid at the museum, and I've noticed how I feel a pride in children when I see them try, succeed, and even fail, since I can't take any real credit. I get to not only watch them learn, but be involved in the learning-process. How cool is that!

    By the time we finished, this roller-coaster was worthy of a double high-five! 

    To the casual bystander, this exhibit at the museum involves: building--plain and simple. After working at this specific exhibit, with more than a few children at this point, I realize that this exhibit gives children an opportunity to develop their gross and fine motor skills, problem-solving and critical thinking skills. The children have to take outside experiences and knowledge related to speed, gravity, and general physics, and apply it to what they're building. Also, they have to have patience with themselves and eventually come to grips with the fact that they only have two hands to work with and need to do one thing at a time. It's also a great creative outlet. 

Who knew child's play could be so deep? 





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