Homeschooling Chronicles - When Good Experiments Go Bad
Take one part science, two parts frog, and mix it together. You might get a big old mess of an idea.
By Kristen Kindoll
All great science lessons have to start somewhere. It usually begins with a great idea, that may or may not be practical, or easy to execute. And, yes, I'll admit that the someone who comes up with these great ideas is usually me. I send for that science kit, experiment, or do it yourself robotics manual. My enthusiasm only dims when the box arrives in the mail, and I see what I have unleashed. As I look at the instructions and equipment I start to wonder just how this is going to work.
One of these great ideas involved a frog kit. When it arrived, I entered my own personal nightmare, but I didn't want to give up. I do this for my young scientists. Newton’s mother and father provided the right material by planting apple trees. I could, with this one science experiment, produce a Newton. Unfortunately, the open box in the hallway doesn’t have apple seeds. Instead, the contents weren't a petite tadpole like I envisioned, but a large, recognizable amalgam of tadpole and frog. I cringed and shivered in revulsion.
You might be saying to yourself, “Like, duh, why did you buy a frog kit when you hate frogs?” That's a good question. The answer is simple. My children are fascinated by frogs, and we are studying life cycles. As I built the problem up in my mind, the project became more like a Dr. Frankenstein B-rated movie, than a science experiment. Luckily, like all great horror movies, there were unlikely heroes who rose to the occasion when things looked the bleakest. My two children picked up the box and said, “Don’t worry, mom, we’ve got this.” I attempted to retain my dignity, even though I was hiding behind the living room furniture. I said, “Don’t forget to get the air pump from the garage.” “We know, mom,” they said.
My two Newtons gathered the proper supplies and set up the whole frog habitat. I was so proud. They established a feeding schedule and prepared the rock to accommodate the froglet when it grew legs. My idea started to look good again. I didn’t have to lead this science project. My two scientists took the initiative on their own, and figured out what to do.
It was a great moment, until my children began a discussion about what to name the frog. I gulped, as I realized that I hadn’t thought about what happens after “this little experiment” is over. I quickly grabbed the sheet of instructions. It stated, that the frog, if well cared for, could live up to 14 years. I almost fainted. Looks like my science experiment turned into a household pet.