kitchen table clipping those Poligrip coupons out of the Sunday paper for a very, very long time to come. Think about it.
15
Crappy Science Fair Didn’t Even Have Any Rides
A fter six years of science fair projects, the Princess had never advanced beyond competition in her own school. Not because her projects hadn’t been exceptionally innovative, impeccably researched, and masterfully displayed, but rather because the judges were idiots.
Hey, I call ’em as I see ’em.
But this year would be different. This year, the Princess collaborated with a friend on an awesome project that involved building an incubator to grow germs and then proving that, yes, double-dipping chips and dips does transfer bacteria from one person to another. They even had a clever title: “The George Costanza Project,” named after the Seinfeld episode in which George gets in trouble for double-dipping at a party.
My participation in this project was limited, as always, to driving to Staples and buying the trifold display board. I’m all about the science. As long as it isn’t too science-y, you know.
The project turned out great (but then, they always did, year after year, see “idiots” above). But this year, something wonderful happened: The project was selected to compete at the county level!
OK, here’s the thing: I’ve never been to a countywide science fair before. I mean, who goes to those things unless their kid is competing, right? Other than those wacky homeschoolers who like to go so they can snicker behind their hands at the pitiful public school kids’ ideas of advanced science.
This countywide fair was, I have to say, quite an eye-opener. Turns out this is really kind of a big deal. To the parents. You’ve heard the term “helicopter parents” I’m sure. The trendy way to describe the current culture of parents overseeing everything even their adult children do? Well, these were more like Sikorsky Super Stallion helicopter parents.
Me? Not so much. I dumped the girls in the gym and immediately went in search of the $3 pizza slice I’d seen advertised out front.
I bought a slice and stood around observing some of the other parents. Who all seemed to know each other really well. The only thing missing was the secret handshake. There was a lot of “Hey! Great to see you again’!” but I had the feeling they probably kinda hated each other a little. There were clenched
teeth, through which they would say things like, “Ohhhh, I hear that the judges are hoping for something along the lines of optimizing turbine blade efficiency by manipulating boundary layer separation but that’s sooooooo 2009 in my opinion. What’s your Andy Jr. doing?”
And this would be followed by discussions about winning projects of the past. Things like “national organics control aggregation of mercury sulfide nanoparticles in freshwater systems” and “functional genomic frameworks for chemotherapeutic drug improvement and identification.”
OK, dipping a potato chip into some onion dip and then doing it again was starting to look pretty damn lame at this point.
I wanted to join in all the “fun science talk” but was clearly out of my league. These parents were battle-scarred veterans of some weird science wars I’d never known anything about. Until that damn potato chip landed me here and away from my planned normal evening of eating said chips and watching E! TV live from Sundance, where Jon Gosselin has now stepped into the role of “pudgy asshole who shows up everywhere pretending to be actually famous” that was occupied at one time by Kato Kaelin.
Standing in the hallway, alone with my pizza, it was obvious that this was a middle-school clique of an entirely different kind. These parents were pretty damn smart with all their talk of genomes and cantilevering.
I’m not for one minute implying that the kids don’t do all their own work on these science fair projects. No, I’m just coming right out and saying
15
Crappy Science Fair Didn’t Even Have Any Rides
A fter six years of science fair projects, the Princess had never advanced beyond competition in her own school. Not because her projects hadn’t been exceptionally innovative, impeccably researched, and masterfully displayed, but rather because the judges were idiots.
Hey, I call ’em as I see ’em.
But this year would be different. This year, the Princess collaborated with a friend on an awesome project that involved building an incubator to grow germs and then proving that, yes, double-dipping chips and dips does transfer bacteria from one person to another. They even had a clever title: “The George Costanza Project,” named after the Seinfeld episode in which George gets in trouble for double-dipping at a party.
My participation in this project was limited, as always, to driving to Staples and buying the trifold display board. I’m all about the science. As long as it isn’t too science-y, you know.
The project turned out great (but then, they always did, year after year, see “idiots” above). But this year, something wonderful happened: The project was selected to compete at the county level!
OK, here’s the thing: I’ve never been to a countywide science fair before. I mean, who goes to those things unless their kid is competing, right? Other than those wacky homeschoolers who like to go so they can snicker behind their hands at the pitiful public school kids’ ideas of advanced science.
This countywide fair was, I have to say, quite an eye-opener. Turns out this is really kind of a big deal. To the parents. You’ve heard the term “helicopter parents” I’m sure. The trendy way to describe the current culture of parents overseeing everything even their adult children do? Well, these were more like Sikorsky Super Stallion helicopter parents.
Me? Not so much. I dumped the girls in the gym and immediately went in search of the $3 pizza slice I’d seen advertised out front.
I bought a slice and stood around observing some of the other parents. Who all seemed to know each other really well. The only thing missing was the secret handshake. There was a lot of “Hey! Great to see you again’!” but I had the feeling they probably kinda hated each other a little. There were clenched
teeth, through which they would say things like, “Ohhhh, I hear that the judges are hoping for something along the lines of optimizing turbine blade efficiency by manipulating boundary layer separation but that’s sooooooo 2009 in my opinion. What’s your Andy Jr. doing?”
And this would be followed by discussions about winning projects of the past. Things like “national organics control aggregation of mercury sulfide nanoparticles in freshwater systems” and “functional genomic frameworks for chemotherapeutic drug improvement and identification.”
OK, dipping a potato chip into some onion dip and then doing it again was starting to look pretty damn lame at this point.
I wanted to join in all the “fun science talk” but was clearly out of my league. These parents were battle-scarred veterans of some weird science wars I’d never known anything about. Until that damn potato chip landed me here and away from my planned normal evening of eating said chips and watching E! TV live from Sundance, where Jon Gosselin has now stepped into the role of “pudgy asshole who shows up everywhere pretending to be actually famous” that was occupied at one time by Kato Kaelin.
Standing in the hallway, alone with my pizza, it was obvious that this was a middle-school clique of an entirely different kind. These parents were pretty damn smart with all their talk of genomes and cantilevering.
I’m not for one minute implying that the kids don’t do all their own work on these science fair projects. No, I’m just coming right out and saying
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