Have Glue Gun, Will Travel (AKA Spaghetti bridge, part 2)

After our rather demoralizing defeat at the hands of the kittens, it took us a week or so so get back to bridge building. When we did, we used the same template (hence the same picture above. It's not your imagination.) The bridge had to be totally rebuilt. There was no salvaging the pieces of the prior bridge.



Here is the finished bridge. We had some fun with it before we tested its strength. After all, we test to the breaking point. So once the bridge is "tested" it's no longer any good for playing around with. The floor of the bridge is linguine noodles. We removed the linguine for the testing. In the meantime, it took a bit of time for this traffic jam to clear up.

Finally the test. We hung a bag on the bottom of the bridge, supported by an unbent paperclip and a craft stick. We weighed these. They would be part of our final test weight after all. Then we began to fill the bag with quarters. I figured that it would be easy to measure quarters. You can just weigh one and then multiply by the number of quarters in the bag, right? Just for comparison, we broke one strand of spaghetti prior to building the bridge. It took 32 pennies to break one piece of spaghetti. We moved up to quarters because I didn't think I had enough pennies to break the bridge.

 



the wood brace you see is the table brace. It has nothing to do with the bridge. The angle is just weird.

empty bag.

quarters

more quarters...

It turns out, we didn't have enough quarters. We added other change. Nickles. Pennies. Dimes. We had to add a second bag.

We ended up with this bag and a different hook. We unbent the large s-hook I'd created with the paperclip and used an industrial strength hook finally. The bridge broke eventually, but it took a long time, all the change in the house, and finally the matchbox cars.

The test-broken bridge.

This is what it took to break Caleb's spaghetti bridge. The hook on the outisde of the bowl is what we hung everything from. It was just over 8 pounds of stuff.

 

Now, I know that physics classes do this kind of thing all the time, and that there are contests out there for high school classes. I've seen balsa bridges that support 200+lbs of weight. And damn, I'm impressed by those things.

 

But I'm impressed with Caleb's spaghetti bridge and its 8 lb. test weight. The bridge weighed just over an ounce. He designed it. He built it. He tested it. I helped with the weighing and the breaking of the spaghetti and the control of the hot-glue, but I didn't alter his plans. I didn't push my agenda. We talked about architecture. We talked about geometry. We talked about physics. He read some books, and then he designed his bridge. This is Caleb's project. Even when he complained about everything involved, he still took responsibiltiy for it. And now he wants to design more. He wants to build more. He wants to try arches next time. He wants to get over a 10 lb. test on an ounce bridge. 

 

As his teacher, I'm thrilled.

As his mother, I'm proud.

As a driver, I hope that we can find more durable material than spaghetti when he makes his first real bridge.

Spaghetti Bridges (without sauce)

Why a spaghetti bridge? Why not?
Okay, actually it's a real thing. It's like the balsa wood bridges, but since everyone has spaghetti in their cupboard* it's easier to get started.

I've got a bit of a confession to make: I always thought I was bad at math. I always hated not being able to figure out math. I was okay with adding and subtracting. Multiplication and division came after awhile. Fractions sort of made sense. But algebra? Geometry? What was the point. "You'll use it someday," I was told. For what? I never got a decent answer.

 I failed many, many math tests. I never failed a class, but it wasn't for lack of trying. My senior year in high school, I took a class called Transitions to College Math. I took it Pass/No Credit. I got no credit.

But something interesting happened when I got older. I became interested in electricity and electronics. Just for fun (prior to grad school) I took  "Science of Acoustics" and a "Science of Electronics" classes at Columbia College here in Chicago. Algebra made sense when I looked at it as I=V/R or V=IR.

I asked Mom why math wasn't taught this way in high school. She told me it was because I wasn't learning math, I was learning physics.  It turns out I wasn't bad at math, I'm just much better at learning (and now teaching) when I'm not told that I'll use it "someday," but shown how I can use it now.

So that's the kind of teacher I am. Caleb has been asking about why we study geometry? He loves physics. So now, at the intersection of geometry and physics, we build spaghetti bridges and test how much force it takes to break them. We use geometric shapes and a lot of hot glue. We measure and weigh, and we try to be all science-y about it. It's a lot of fun...and I never tell him that we're just studying so that he can use some esoteric skill "someday."

As stage 1, he designed his bridge. You can kind of see his template in the photo below. That is Caleb wielding the hot glue gun. We only incurred minor injuries

Stage 2: begin construction

Trusses for bridge complete!

Stage 3: Bridge top and bottom complete



The proud bridge-builder

When this is all complete, do not--I REPEAT DO NOT LEAVE THE BRIDGE WHERE THE CATS CAN GET IT. YOU WILL REGRET IT. Cats apparently love to destroy spaghetti bridges. We learned this the hard way.

After the cats...

Part II of our bridge saga, coming soon.


**note: this will NOT work with linguine, fettuccini, manicotti, gnocchi, penne, or any kind of pasta other than spaghetti.

Game Face

"So, tell me how you scored the goal that won the soccer game Caleb."

Okay, but you have to understand that everything in life--everything in the universe is connected to science, Mom. So I want you to think about physics.

"Physics?"

Yes. Physics. You know that kicking a soccer ball requires a lot of different physics rules and laws to come together. There's a lot of transferring of energy. Like there's potential energy in my foot. And I have to transfer that to the ball. And then it's kinetic energy. And it has to overcome inertia and gain um....something with an 'm'....

"Mass? Matter? Muscle? Monkeys?"

I'm serious, Mom. It means like, speed.

"Momentum?"

That's it!

"I just want to know about the goal, Cay."

Im tellilng you about the goal if you'd just listen.

"Okay. Go on then."

Where was I? Oh yeah. You want to transefer the energy and overcome the interia, right? So, then you have to think about the angle of the kick. And how the goalie could block it. Like if it's this high. Or maybe you could make it sink.

Or get it over his head. But that means that you have to kick it harder to overcome gravity.

And then you score! And it's all by science! By physics! Everything is physics! Isn't that great? Soccer is all physics!

"You know what, Caleb? You're right. I'm really proud of you. You did great. I wish I could have been there, but it sounds great."

Thanks, Mom...hey...

...why do you keep moving your phone around. Are you taking my picture?

"Um...maybe."

This is my child.**

He scored the only goal of the final game of the soccer season--the game winning goal of the ONLY game his team won, but all he could talk about was physics. I don't know it this is normal, but it sure is fun to listen to. We are planning a field trip to the planetarium soon because he wants to discuss this theories about photons and mass and the Higgs-Boson with real scientists. I'm torn between encouraging him and explaining that he should learn his eight and nine multiplication tables before he formulates theories about physics.

What the heck. I think I'll encourage him...but I'm keeping the camera handy.

**If I hadn't been there for his birth, I don't know if I'd believe he was really mine.

Cows

"Cows are heavy."

Sometimes I have to do a double take at things my kids say. And then I wonder if they are as smart as I like to believe they are. Sometimes I just don't know how to respond. What is the proper response? "Yup, sure are, son. So's a car," sounds a bit sarcastic.

"Like maybe a ton, at least, right? Cows have to weigh a ton. That's big." Caleb mused, not seeming to expect a reply, which was good as I wasn't sure how to answer. "It would be stranger if they weren't heavy though, wouldn't it?"

 The pause went on a bit too long and I realized that he wanted a response."Like balloon cows?" I asked, hoping that we were still on the subject of cows. Sometimes I don't pay close enough attention and subjects move forward without me.

Giggles came from the back seat. "Balloon cows. That's funny. You couldn't herd balloon cows." Another pause. "Or feathers. If cows were feathers that would be funny, but hard to keep inside a fence."

"And they wouldn't weigh as much," I ventured.

More giggles. "Cow feathers. Which would weigh more? A balloon cow or a feather cow?"

"Um..." Being a mom doesn't prepare you for all questions. This was one thing they never warned me about in mom school.

"I guess maybe if a balloon cow had helium, it would weigh less than a feather," he finally decided. Then he laughed again.

I laughed too. I really like this job sometimes.

Precision and Poetics

When Caleb was just learning to speak, I loved to have him explain his world to me. At the time, I was in graduate school and one of the things I had to study was the development of language in children. He was always an outlier on the high side of the bell curve. He was one of those kids who rarely got frustrated by his lack of language facility because he was always able to talk his way around problems.

When he was about two he saw a large swarm of dragonflies, and he informed us: "Look, a dragonfly party!" This made total sense because while he didn't know what a swarm was, he knew what a party was.
When he wanted to describe a trail we were hiking that was under water, he called it the "juicy trail." Mom's Wisconsin house was "The sharing house" for obvious reasons.

Hannah was never as easy with her language usage; she was one of those kids who would get frustrated because we didn't know what she was saying, or at least we couldn't interpret what she meant. As the years have gone on, however, I've come to appreciate her thought process (although I still can't say I understand it.) She is a literalist who loves saying exactly what she means. She can't talk around problems like Caleb because talking around a problem means that she's not saying exactly what she wants to say. She needs precision

With this as a background, here is a conversation we had yesterday:

Me: "Here's an interesting quote. It's from Albert Camus. He was a French-Algerian writer. 'Autumn is a second spring, where every leaf is a flower.' What do you think he meant by that? (in the interest of full disclosure, I was reading the funny papers, and Mutts had this quote in it. I'm not so big a fan of Camus that I'd introduce him to eight and ten year old kids.)

Hannah: "Maybe he meant that the leaves are going to fall off the trees and decompose. After the winter, when spring arrives, flowers will grow better because of the composted leaves."

Me: "Um...well...that's an interesting point of view...."

Hannah: "Or maybe he meant that the leaves have colors like flowers in the spring."

Caleb: "I think I'd go with your second idea."

Hannah: "What's Alergian?"

Just try to explain poetry to a literalist. I dare you.

Daffodils in Winter

Caleb in the daffodils.

Two tone with small trumpet

I love all of you crazy people who like to read my stuff. You make me happy to write. I guess I just crave the immediate feedback and attention. It's one of my weaknesses. I have a very hard time with delayed gratification. I'd rather do something immediately. Read something immediately. Buy something immediately. Eat something immediately...have I mentioned that I've put on ten pounds in the past five months? Urk. Yeah, I'm jogging again.

Magnolia Tree

It was the first day of spring when we went out to the Arboretum again. I have to say, my lessons have been very uninspired this week. I hate to say so, but the weather has gotten under my skin and I've been having trouble motivating myself to do anything. When in doubt, arrange for a field trip or two. So the kids and I went out to Lisle to see what was up at the Arboretum. We've gone there at this time of year a few years running because the Arboretum is beautiful in the spring. They have groves and groves planted with daffodils, and when they bloom, they are simply gorgeous. With the early spring, the Magnolias are blooming too, so I went out to see the blooms before they are gone--either blown or nipped by a late frost.

more magnolias--a bit blown

We cataloged at least six varieties of daffodils. I say "we," but the kids did much of the finding. Looking for differences amongst the blooms kept them busy and interested while we were drizzled on. I hate taking the kids on trips and then hearing: "It was fine until we got bored." No boredom. Not today.  The (very) early spring showers and early spring blooms gave me respite from my early spring gloom and we finally got back to the task of reasonably effortless learning.

Bright yellow-large trumpet

"The hills flat-lands are alive with the sound of music!"

Trillium-not quite there yet

We spotted Trillium (not blooming yet) and Shooting Star (blooming) as we walked through the woods.


We saw wild strawberries (no fruit) and the aforementioned daffodils in great abundance. As we walked through the woods spotting hawks, ground squirrels, squirrels and robins, the kids and I relaxed together. "Hey Mom," Hannah laughed when we encountered a dozen or more robins on the path in front of us. "It's a robin 'hood. Get it?"
After showing Caleb several varieties of Trillium, he shook his head. "I think that I know why biology was invented," he informed me. "This is too much to remember."

Double petal variety

Angry Bird

Just as it began raining, this hawk landed in the tree right in front of us. I wish I had a better photo, but if you can spot him, please know that he's in a tree about 15 feet up. He was huge! He just stared at us, annoyed, as we insisted on taking his photo.

Cream with a large yellow trumpet

cute, tiny daffodils

Young magnolia tree--protected from deer with fencing

We came home to our own daffodils which are already dying as the early spring turns to late-early spring.

Crazy Hat Day

The kids were talking to the girl who lives across the street. She's currently attending Portage Park School (our school) and let my little chickens know that it's spirit week. So in honor of Spirit Week in our school, we have a different theme every day. Today the theme was "Crazy Hat Day!"

Caleb made his hat the Tower of Gogurt
Hannah made her hat the Rainbow Cat.


I told them to use whatever art supplies they wanted, and just go to town. They went into the recycle bin and the art drawer and then followed my instructions and just went to town. When I woke up this morning, they were both walking around with their wonderful hats on their heads, deservedly proud of their creations. Their creativity always catches me by surprise, and I don't know why. "Mom, you know us. Why are you always surprised?" Hannah asked, rolling her eyes at my delight.

Good question. I don't know why their creativity tickles me so much. Maybe I'm so used to being let down,  that I'm always grateful to be pleasantly, happily surprised. Maybe it just proves that I'm not as cynical and jaded as I think that I am sometimes. I hope these kids never stop surprising me--in a good way-- no matter how much it frustrates my daughter to have her mother giggle over the wonderfully silly and thought-provoking things they create.

One more view of the Rainbow Cat. Notice the ears?

Unexpected Bright Spots in the Universe

Our weekly field trip was to the Adler Planetarium. Because my phone was very, very low on batteries, I only got to take two photos. Both were of us eating in the cafeteria. Exciting, huh? Luckily that wasn't the high point of our day.

The Planetarium has always been an odd museum. It has always seemed to be a little bit disorganized, out of date, small, and staffed by the biggest geeks you can imagine. Of course the last time I went there was probably before I was in High School, so there was a lot of time to improve.

Well, it's still a bit disorganized, although they have a great staff who will direct you anywhere you might want to go. As far as out of date, that's been taken care of. Once you can find your way around they have some pretty good displays on telescopes through history, mapping the galaxy, the early space program, and they now have three different theaters (one 3D) in which you can watch incredible sky shows. Even the non-3D theaters look 3D. I had to close my eyes on more than one occasion because I felt like I was falling through a hole in the sky.

I can happily say that the museum is still staffed by huge geeks. This is not a disadvantage in any way. One of the great things that they have added to the museum is a visualization lab where, several times a day, you can talk to actual astronomers and artists who create ways for us common folk to visualize the universe. We spent an hour there. The astronomer sat the kids down to interact with  a video array of views from one of the Mars Rovers. That is when the questions began.

George: "Wow. So, which Rover is this?"
Astronomer: "Spirit, I believe."
Caleb: "There are a lot of rocks here. It looks like erosion. Is that from wind or water?"
Astronomer: "It is erosion. From here it looks like it was caused by water mostly. But what's really interesting is that those are volcanic rocks."
Caleb: "Volcanic? How long ago was Mars volcanically active?"
Astronomer: "Probably about a hundred million years ago."
Caleb: "So is the water more recent?"

Hannah: "Do you do this illustration? Is it all by computers or do you draw it?"
Astronomer: "It's all done on computer. If you take these 3D glasses, you can see how cosmic rays and gamma rays collide with the atmosphere and shatter..."
Hannah: "So the rays split? Is that dangerous?"
Astronomer: "The atmosphere of the earth protects us, but some of the rays can get through."
Hannah: "What happens when they do? Can it cause sicknesses?"
Astronomer: "Well, some of the radiation, if you are exposed in large amounts, can cause a bad disease that starts with a 'c.' "
Hannah: "Yes, cancer. But are we in danger right now?"
Astronomer: "Only a small amount of gamma rays get through the atmosphere. Chances are, you won't be hit by any."
Hannah: "But if I am, will I get cancer and die?"
Astronomer: "No. Maybe one of your cells might die. That's one of billions that are in your body. I don't think you're in danger."
Hannah: "Okay. But if I get hit a lot..."
Me: "You won't."

Astronomer: "This is a map of the Milky Way Galaxy. Right at the center you can see a super massive black hole..."
Caleb: "Oh yeah. You know, I've always wanted to study those."
Astronomer: "Always...? Well, super massive black holes shoot out gamma rays. That's what I study. In my model you can see that some cosmic rays shatter, but gamma rays don't. I study the charged particles that make it through the atmosphere."
Caleb: "So you just study parts of the atoms? The charged parts? Do they get charged before they hit the atmosphere? Is that why they break up? What do they hit? Can we make electricity with the charges?"

Astronomer: "We are constantly being bombarded with particles from space. Right now there are particles shooting through your body...."
Hannah: "Are you talking about neutrinos?"
Caleb: "I was just going to say that."
Astronomer: "You know about neutrinos too!??"

Yes, my kids were able to out-geek the geeks. The other astronomer in the lab took me aside and said. "I don't think we've had this much fun in months. Not everyone feels comfortable asking questions."

I'm not going to take credit for my kids being smart. I think that's just something that they were born with. I will give myself a pat on the back, however, because they know it's okay to ask questions, and they aren't afraid to ask. Sometimes, when we are so busy shushing and quieting the kids and getting annoyed at the questions that they ask, we forget that this is how they learn. They ask because they REALLY WANT TO KNOW. They don't ask to annoy you, or to try to show you up, or to stump you. They are genuinely curious and so they ask. I hope that they never stop asking. I hope that they will always be surrounded by patient people (like Mr. Astronomer) who take the time to answer their questions. I hope that questions will always lead to more questions. I hope that they are never scared or worried about asking.

I think that we will go back to the Planetarium, just to visit with smart people who like answering questions. It was also the most fun I've had in months.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, we stopped by the Atwood Sphere. It was built in 1913 and it's the oldest "planetarium" in the western hemisphere. We got to go inside and learn about the constellations as they would appear over the city if we could see them. I can't explain it adequately, but if you ever have the opportunity, go and see it. I'm not sure if this will work, but here's a link I found with pictures. http://www.flickr.com/photos/adlerplanetarium/3351681947/

 I was, once again surprised at what my kids knew, and the questions that they weren't afraid to ask. Hannah wanted to know if the Pleiades and the Hyades had the same origin (etymologically or astronomically) and Caleb was curious about the zodiac constellations and was interested that they were also known as ecliptic constellations...so was I as a matter of fact. So, we all learned a lot. We all asked a lot of questions. It was a good time.

And here is one final picture of the cafeteria with a great view of the skyline (in spite of the rain.) Yet another improvement they made to this great, quiet, sciencey museum. The pizza wasn't bad either, which is a good thing, because it's featured here, in one of the only pictures I managed to take.

Reality as advertised

The weather was so nice a couple of weeks ago that we went out to the Morton Arboretum. The plan was to map out the maze garden. Do you know how hard that is? I mean mazes...who knew?

Instead we went out to "Big Rock." We had about a half mile hike to our destination. The sun was going down, it was getting cold...the kids were only wearing sweatshirts and weren't thrilled about the whole experience while we were walking through the slowly darkening woods. When we got there, however, it was hard to pull them away. Both were thrilled to have something to climb on. And there was mud. Who could ask for anything more?

Isn't it nice when you discover that your destination is exactly as advertised? Our destination was a big rock. It's not "giant rock," or "immense rock" (although in Starbucks world, this would actually be "Tall Rock.") It's a big rock at the edge of some old farm land.

Now to those of you who live in more geographically interesting climes, let me simply say this: in northern Illinois we don't get many rocks this big. Impressive? Maybe not. But it sure is interesting. It's also granite, which we also don't often get in these parts. Apparently Big Rock was dropped by a big glacier a long time ago.

Big deal? Well, when mapping out mazes is too difficult on a chilly day, discussing the evidence of ice age glaciation in our (figurative) backyard made for a good day of learning. Mission accomplished--even if it wasn't the mission we set out to do.

Big Mud too.