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LJI topic 3 Elin's coprolite
Nov. 6th, 2011 12:24 pmDid I ever tell you about the science field trip we took the second graders to last week? No? Well, listen up.
I was busy clearing out my over-stuffed refrigerator and talking to Kori. Since I've been working full time as a teacher these past ten years, there have been certain jobs I just don't get to as often as I'd like. At least with the refrigerator, it has to be done now and then or there won't be any room for fresh food in the fridge! I pulled out a plastic bag that was filled with a slimey green substance and flung it to my right into the gaping maw of the trash can. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I watched the vivid green and black package fly five feet across the room.
The kids had been looking forward to this science expedition for weeks. We had been learning all about Ice Age creatures. Here in Southern California, we have lots of sites where it is possible to find clues of our predecessors who roamed this area ten thousand years ago. Ironically, those who stepped into a pit of tar gave up one brief, though important, thing-Life- for the eternal fame of being immortalized in tar. We also have sites, perhaps far more, where the unlucky beast was preserved as a dry fossil in an ancient, dusty sea bed. We usually see those because they have been raised up above ground, thanks to our active seismic situation. Everytime there is an earthquake, these sandstone cliffs rise a little higher.
I reached around the milk in the front of the fridge to pull out a mysterious plastic container. I have a theory: If I can't even remember the last time we ate something like that, or worse, can't even figure out what it is, I toss it. This container was well beyond the recognition phase. Something black. Was it always black? Nobody knows.
The kids were sitting in fidgety anticipation on the floor in a large room, 'criss- cross, applesauce,' as we like to remind them. Their eyes were drawn to the displays all around. To the left, they saw a giant saber-toothed cat. Behind them hung a skeleton of a whale. And to their right was a model of a wooley mammoth. Cool! After speaking for a while, Marie, the docent, asked if she could get a student volunteer to help out in the program.
Nearly every seven-year-old hand shot into the air. Pick me! Pick me! Elin's hand was among them. It wasn't too surprising that the docent identified Elin as her next helper. Elin was probably our star student. A product of Swedish and Jewish parents, Elin had long strawberry blonde hair, a mass of freckles marching across her face, and an eager grin. Not only was she cute, she was brilliant, though of course the docent didn't know that. All she saw was a very earnest child.
I brought the trash can closer to the refrigerator so I wouldn't have to toss spoiled food quite as far. Besides, I was getting into the truly mushy department now. This is why I try to use plastic zip-lok bags for left-overs. Throwing stuff out is so much simpler! Aha! Something from the early Pleistocene!
Elin took the two steps up to the stage. Marie, the docent, handed her a dark, rounded ball of a rock about the size of a baseball. "Hold this carefully," she instructed Elin. With great care, Elin cradled the artifact.
Marie began to tell the students all about the fossil. It was roughly ten thousand years old. It had been found near a place where Ice Age beasts like to come for water.
Elin beamed happily at her classmates. She was undoubtedly thinking "I'm so lucky to get to do this!" Her classmates were also probably thinking that. Envy was written all over their faces. Elin, however, is a very sweet child and probably was merely relishing her own good fortune.
After a lengthy lesson about the object at hand, Marie asked Elin if she knew what it was. Elin turned big eyes on the docent and shook her head, no.
Marie gently told her it was called a coprolite. "It's a petrified Poo," she said.
Elin's face took on a stunned expression. She looked like she would very much like to drop the offending fossil straight to the floor. She gave a panicked look to her classmates. Suddenly she began to wonder who were the lucky ones. But, being an eminently scientific person, and understanding the importance of every little natural thing, Elin realized she had a great responsibility to makind. She quickly but gently laid the coprolite on the stage and then briskly wiped her hands on the seat of her pants. She turned a chagrined face full of horror to Marie. Without saying a word, it was evident that she was thinking, "Why?!"
Chuckling at the memory of Elin and her great coprolite adventure, I pulled a withered and dark item out of the back of the refrigerator and declared it to be part of our own coprolite collection. It joined its mushier fellows to reside in the trash can.
Glad that that task was behind me, I, too, went to wash my hands.
The good news is, Elin still loves science. A lesser child would have needed counseling!
I was busy clearing out my over-stuffed refrigerator and talking to Kori. Since I've been working full time as a teacher these past ten years, there have been certain jobs I just don't get to as often as I'd like. At least with the refrigerator, it has to be done now and then or there won't be any room for fresh food in the fridge! I pulled out a plastic bag that was filled with a slimey green substance and flung it to my right into the gaping maw of the trash can. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I watched the vivid green and black package fly five feet across the room.
The kids had been looking forward to this science expedition for weeks. We had been learning all about Ice Age creatures. Here in Southern California, we have lots of sites where it is possible to find clues of our predecessors who roamed this area ten thousand years ago. Ironically, those who stepped into a pit of tar gave up one brief, though important, thing-Life- for the eternal fame of being immortalized in tar. We also have sites, perhaps far more, where the unlucky beast was preserved as a dry fossil in an ancient, dusty sea bed. We usually see those because they have been raised up above ground, thanks to our active seismic situation. Everytime there is an earthquake, these sandstone cliffs rise a little higher.
I reached around the milk in the front of the fridge to pull out a mysterious plastic container. I have a theory: If I can't even remember the last time we ate something like that, or worse, can't even figure out what it is, I toss it. This container was well beyond the recognition phase. Something black. Was it always black? Nobody knows.
The kids were sitting in fidgety anticipation on the floor in a large room, 'criss- cross, applesauce,' as we like to remind them. Their eyes were drawn to the displays all around. To the left, they saw a giant saber-toothed cat. Behind them hung a skeleton of a whale. And to their right was a model of a wooley mammoth. Cool! After speaking for a while, Marie, the docent, asked if she could get a student volunteer to help out in the program.
Nearly every seven-year-old hand shot into the air. Pick me! Pick me! Elin's hand was among them. It wasn't too surprising that the docent identified Elin as her next helper. Elin was probably our star student. A product of Swedish and Jewish parents, Elin had long strawberry blonde hair, a mass of freckles marching across her face, and an eager grin. Not only was she cute, she was brilliant, though of course the docent didn't know that. All she saw was a very earnest child.
I brought the trash can closer to the refrigerator so I wouldn't have to toss spoiled food quite as far. Besides, I was getting into the truly mushy department now. This is why I try to use plastic zip-lok bags for left-overs. Throwing stuff out is so much simpler! Aha! Something from the early Pleistocene!
Elin took the two steps up to the stage. Marie, the docent, handed her a dark, rounded ball of a rock about the size of a baseball. "Hold this carefully," she instructed Elin. With great care, Elin cradled the artifact.
Marie began to tell the students all about the fossil. It was roughly ten thousand years old. It had been found near a place where Ice Age beasts like to come for water.
Elin beamed happily at her classmates. She was undoubtedly thinking "I'm so lucky to get to do this!" Her classmates were also probably thinking that. Envy was written all over their faces. Elin, however, is a very sweet child and probably was merely relishing her own good fortune.
After a lengthy lesson about the object at hand, Marie asked Elin if she knew what it was. Elin turned big eyes on the docent and shook her head, no.
Marie gently told her it was called a coprolite. "It's a petrified Poo," she said.
Elin's face took on a stunned expression. She looked like she would very much like to drop the offending fossil straight to the floor. She gave a panicked look to her classmates. Suddenly she began to wonder who were the lucky ones. But, being an eminently scientific person, and understanding the importance of every little natural thing, Elin realized she had a great responsibility to makind. She quickly but gently laid the coprolite on the stage and then briskly wiped her hands on the seat of her pants. She turned a chagrined face full of horror to Marie. Without saying a word, it was evident that she was thinking, "Why?!"
Chuckling at the memory of Elin and her great coprolite adventure, I pulled a withered and dark item out of the back of the refrigerator and declared it to be part of our own coprolite collection. It joined its mushier fellows to reside in the trash can.
Glad that that task was behind me, I, too, went to wash my hands.
The good news is, Elin still loves science. A lesser child would have needed counseling!
