Science in action

I'm reaching an interesting stage as a home schooling mom.  My youngest child is now at the age my oldest was when he first started to learn at home.  Well, actually they're not at the same age, but rather at the same stage.  So I have the feeling that I've actually done some of this before, at least once. 

Beau is studying force and motion.  We're using the DK book as our jumping off point, and then supplementing with other sources as needed/desired.  Some may question the wisdom of using a sampler book as curriculum, but I've found that if it's short and intensely interesting, the foundation of learning (motivation) is securely in place and the whole process of learning becomes an adventure and even somewhat of a mystery.

So far Beau has built a system of pulleys, compound and simple, to test the formulas for mechanical advantage laid out in the book.  He built an inclined plane to test its ability to move heavy objects to an elevated destination more easily.  (He also found that lighter objects such as toy cars go much farther when using an inclined plane and a similar amount of force.)  He even tested out Archimedes' principle: The amount of upthrust on a floating object is equal to the weight of the liquid it displaces.

OK.  Here's where the "been there, done this" came in handy.  I let him do it all by himself, only giving him access to the things he needed and directing him to document what he was doing, and being with him while he did the experiment.  (Well, not all by himself, but close.  I'm very excited about duplicating these experiments and doing real science, so it's hard for me to keep my hands off!) 

He chose an apple, weighing it and documenting the weight.  We found a glass that would hold the apple without touching it.  Then we filled that glass completely with water.  Beau weighed the glass with water in it and documented the weight.

He placed the full glass inside a bowl (to catch the overflow) and put the apple in the glass.  Here's where I butted in.  I had the idea that the water overflow would match the weight of the apple that was under the water (instead of the whole apple.)  We wasted a lot of precious time trying to mark the water level on the apple while it was floating in the glass, cutting the apple precisely, and then weighing the submerged part of the apple and comparing the weights.  No match.

We went back to the book.  OK, so it was supposed to match the weight of the whole apple.  But now the apple was mutilated and partially eaten, so we had to start over.  I believe that some of Beau's delight in this experiment stemmed from the fact that he got to show mom where she was wrong.  And isn't that one of the precise roles of the scientist?  To expose error?

So we did it all once again, weigh the apple, weigh the water in the glass, drop the apple gently, catch the overflow, and compare the weight of the overflow with the weight of the apple.  This time it was very close.  We decided that the difference was probably due to the imprecise nature of the scale (since we had to keep resetting it every time it was used), the weight of the bowl we caught the water in, and the few scattered drops on the counter that were spilled when we removed the glass from the bowl that caught the water.

How is this scenario different from the way it would have been ten years ago?  Exprience has made me much more quick to acknowledge my own error.  Back then we probably would have mutilated several apples, exchanged words, and punctured any enthusiasm for the experiment in the process.  (But back then it would have been during the school science project.)

So here's what I'm hoping:  As I begin to learn humility and to understand the limits of my own understanding; as I try to respond to correction--from any source--positively; and as I retain my curiosity and enthusiasm for learning on into my fifth decade of life, I hope to pass these qualities on to my children.  Mistakes like the one I made above are the basis for concrete learning because they are memorable.  They also reinforce the principle that honest observation is where all education begins.