THE PUMPKIN PATROL

I’ll admit it.  When I think pumpkin, my mind always goes directly to Yum Yum’s pumpkin donuts or a large slice of pumpkin pie complete with overgenerous plop of whipped cream.  But after my observations in one of the kindergarten classrooms recently, I find there are other new associations to consider! Inquisitive five-year olds were in top form last week as they discovered all sorts of fascinating facts about the large orange pumpkin which had suddenly appeared in their classroom.

Colorfully decorated pumpkin observation booklets and invisible investigator badges were part of the backdrop for the first experiment.  The students could hardly wait to turn the page to see what sort of inquiry came first!

One of the students efficiently read the title on the top of the first page.  “SINK OR FLOAT.” Each table group gathered around the pumpkin to take turns trying to lift Mr. Pumpkin from his seat atop the plastic bin.  There was an enthusiasm and jockeying for position I haven’t seen since the last time I ventured out for Christmas bargains on Black Friday.  Some of the less boisterous children (who were swept up in the fray) barely cared to touch the stem. Other investigators threw their whole frames eagerly into the lifting activity.  Truth be told, I was concerned our pumpkin would be prematurely transformed to pumpkin purée when one of the boys unexpectedly demonstrated his impressive bicep strength and lifted the pumpkin enthusiastically over his head. 

“What do we call it when we make a guess about what might happen next in a story?”  

Clearly Mrs. Immel had already introduced the word “prediction” and was checking to see if the students remembered the term.   A hand shot up and an alternate answer rang out.  “HYPOTHESIS!” Wow…kindergartner Cole can probably start writing his admissions essays for Harvard this weekend….  

The students were told to make their predictions and to keep them secret for the time being.  They formed careful letters as they added the word “sink” or the word “float” to their observation booklets. 

Leo was celebrating his birthday on the first day of the pumpkin investigation!

It was time for the first experiment.  Gathering in a circle atop carpet squares, the students surrounded Mr. Pumpkin on his perch.  Mrs. Immel took a survey of predictions, finding that 13 class members believed the pumpkin would sink while only 2 optimistic researchers predicted flotation. Aubrey guessed “float” as she had some prior experience at home with a Barbie doll in a bathtub.  Levi predicted flotation as well, rationalizing confidently: “I could hold that pumpkin with just one hand….”  Those Y chromosomes kick in early, no?

There were shocked faces all around the circle when Mrs. Immel lowered the pumpkin into the water.  

Levi mustered a celebratory (seated) victory dance as Mr. Pumpkin bobbed along the surface of the water. 

The small persons predicting there would be sinking had to concede that even heavy ships managed to somehow stay afloat at times.

Measurements (including Mr. Pumpkin's weight) took place on day two of experimentation. The students thought the pumpkin should go to his doctor for this reading but since the teacher couldn't fit everyone inside her Mazda they stopped by my office instead. The pumpkin was lifted from his cardboard traveling box and placed on the scale for his big weigh-in.  Eleven pounds!  

Birthday Boy Hudson celebrated HIS special day on the second day of pumpkin investigation.

Mia made those pounds look like nothing as she hoisted the pumpkin for the class photo above.

The scale in my office might qualify as an antique but I wouldn't trade it for
any contemporary design.  It is accurate almost to the ounce each year, never ceasing
to amaze the certification gentleman who annually affixes our label of calibration!

Levi generously reported his father's current weight to Mrs. Gordon who was snapping photos.... 

No worries Mr. Epps...what happens in the Nurse's Office stays in the Nurse's Office! 

Have I mentioned I love kindergartners? 

Description, design and seed counting would all follow in the days to come.

After all of this research, the students in Mrs. Immel’s classroom are privy to many of the secrets behind a Jack O’Lantern’s smirk.  The next time you spot a fine orange Cucurbita pepo grinning his candlelit smile on an October porch, you can smile too, knowing there are some decidedly wonderful pumpkin-enlightened five-year-olds in Penn View’s corner of the world.

MAKING MUSIC

Elementary Band from last school year.  Look at those gorgeous faces! 

The honking sounds of a Canadian goose are no doubt closest cousins to the torturous noises my small mouth coaxed from my very first clarinet. I blew into that instrument with gusto.  It wasn’t pretty.

New opportunities come with each new school year and one such opportunity was recently presented to Mrs. Schmidt’s fourth grade class.  

Instrumental lesson groups are being organized, prompting our band director Mrs. Berg to demonstrate some of the available band instruments. It should be noted that we caught Mrs. Berg on casual Penn View t-shirt day.  

The children have the opportunity to begin playing strings in their third grade year.  But band instruments are full size which requires larger instrumentalists.  A quick survey showed that at least half of the fourth graders have already begun playing a string instrument, piano or guitar.  A musical crew! Their existing melodious skills did nothing to deter their interest in Mrs. Berg’s presentation. “Instruments are fun!” Our enthusiastic director did not disappoint. Listening to her presentation almost makes me want to take up the xylophone.  Almost….

Beginning with the smallest instrument, Mrs. Berg attempted to dispel any stereotypes associated with flutists.  “You might think only girls play the flute, but don’t believe it.  All the flutists in the Philadelphia Orchestra are men!” She played a sweet song so the children could hear the instrument’s voice.  “The flute is just like blowing over a bottle.”  I wonder if Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson would agree.

This was the first time it truly registered with me that those majoring in Music Education need to play EVERY SINGLE INSTRUMENT in order to earn their degree.  Mrs. Landes (also a member of Penn View's music department) confirmed that learning to play every instrument is no easy feat.  She admits freely to unsightly weeping during her entire final performance exam on bassoon.  I suspect there is at least some residual post-traumatic-stress as she still shivers upon hearing the first tones from that beautiful instrument. Mrs. Berg reports that the Italian name for the bassoon translates loosely to "bundle of sticks." This stick bundle was regarded today as the endangered species on the list of instruments shown.  Its difficulty level and associated expense makes it much less popular than a lightweight and user-friendly flute.

Mrs. Berg went on to show the oboe, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, French horn, trombone, baritone horn, and tuba.  

Several percussion instruments were also demonstrated.  Apparently, anything you strike or shake meets the requirements for percussion.  Who knew?  By those standards, fly swatters and Parmesan cheese both qualify.  Students were told they would receive some bells and a drum pad as starting percussionists.  “The drum pads are great because they are portable.  You can take them on trips and annoy your parents!”  

Being a percussionist is not easy.  As her feet and hands worked simultaneously on the drum set, she asked the students to pay attention to which appendage was striking which part of the drum set.  Mrs. Berg is an impressive multitasker! 

Kettles are not just for delicious kettle corn as was validated with the director’s stirring rendition of George of the Jungle. 

It was sixth grade when Mrs. Berg began playing her instrument of choice, the French horn.  

The student's favorite portion of the presentation was when the teacher showed how most of the brass instruments could be played using the mouthpiece alone.  While the trumpet sounded like a plucky duck, the French horn was bashful and unsure. The tuba mouthpiece was just plain ridiculous, roughly the size of a child’s entire hand. 

 

Mrs. Berg had tips for the up and coming instrumentalists.  “Wait until maybe fifth grade on the trombone if you are really short.  It is the most athletic of instruments and sounds like a cartoon laugh.”  

The tuba was all about BIG SOUND.  She reminded the students that it takes a lot of air to make the tuba sound full and suggested the students start on the baritone horn and graduate to the tuba when they’ve got larger lungs.  

According to our resident expert, the tuba player in the Philadelphia Orchestra is a beautiful lady who wears 4 inch heels.  Go figure!

The students were enthralled. “Pick an instrument you like the sound of.”  Good advice from a woman who would know.  I am certain I did not practice each day for 15-20 minutes as recommended by Mrs. Berg.  That might be a partial explanation for the terrible reverberations which emanated from my ill-fated instrument.  To be fair and despite my early failings, some equally creative music teachers did manage to supervise my instrumental progression right up to and including four years in a celebrated marching band.  

Seeing how well-loved all the instruments are to Mrs. Berg, I’m feeling a little remorseful for allowing my ancient clarinet three decades of decomposition in the attic.  I may just pull it out to see if I can still imitate the sound of a dying cow. 

THE GREAT BUG HUNT

When I recall the setting for my best childhood memories, a delightful back yard in East Greenville comes to mind.  One might have known that I would end up in the science field because a favorite August adventure was always the discovery and collection of disgustingly creepy and recently discarded cicada shells.  

My mother must have been a very patient woman because I remember keeping these ghastly dried carcasses in a paper greeting card box under my bed.  It was quite the gruesome assemblage. Most of their alien forms had been found clinging to the scratchy bark of our family's white cherry tree. 

Our Developmental Kindergarten class spent some time recently on a similar quest and I was happy to accompany them. 

Carter was the line-leader as the group headed out to the hunting grounds. He stopped at the road and looked both ways, making sure it was safe to cross.

The hunt began at the top of the hill and anticipation grew as Mrs. Welby began to dispense the magnifiers. 

A couple of white butterflies were immediately obvious and caused a bit of a stir.  The pair wisely fluttered over the naturalized area next to the grass, effectively decreasing their risk of capture. 

Magnifiers in hand, the hunt was soon underway.  A rather busy assemblage of black ants was spotted and found to have threatening pinchers for mouths. We opted to let those ferocious-looking mouths alone.

There was a bee sighting which prompted the DK teacher (Mrs. Ness) to give some sensible advice about bees. 


“Remember; let’s give that bee plenty of space!"

Emily’s shriek heralded the first spider find of the outing and was the catalyst for another reminder. “LOOKING, not TOUCHING!”

Clear plastic cubes were produced and live specimens were carefully placed into the handy bug boxes for later inspection by the class. 

Photographer and middle school teacher Mrs. Reynolds joined us for the second part of the excursion.  When she pulled the professional camera from her bag, the students were happy to ham it up for that nice long lens.

Luke found an aphid on a bright yellow dandelion flower as Scarlett helped to add an ant to a bug box. 

A great shout came from the adventurers.  You would have thought buried treasure had been discovered.  But no.  “We found a PILL BUG!”  The group gathered round to get a closer look.

I have always been a magnet for insects, regular bug-bait.  My skin transforms into itchy mountain ranges after even short exposures to those sneaky summertime vectors. A morning application of delightfully fragrant Thymes lotion was probably not the most brilliant choice I’ve ever made and I soon found myself smacking my arms and legs. 

While I was slapping, I caught random snippets of conversation from the ranks: 

“I’ve got an ant on my magnifier!”

“Braden found a bug we never saw!”

“I found a tick!”





It was not lost on me that the children were searching diligently for bugs and I was trying diligently to keep them off my skin....

There were some persuasive words from Scarlett (apparently the resident expert at luring insects)… “If you want to catch a bug, tell them to climb into your sleeping bag…they love that….”

The assemblage moved from the grassy hill to the nature trail.  Along with the cooler temperature in the shade, we noted bird sounds and a whole new collection of creepy crawly things.  

There were cones and arrows along the trail, not-so-subtle clues that Middle School Field Day festivities would soon be disrupting the serenity of the woods.

One of the children pointed to my shoe and hurled an accusation. She suspected me of stepping on a “curling up bug."  I continue to maintain my innocence. 

Small rocks were lifted and beetles were exposed.  A reddish ant-like insect was spotted by Naomi on the bottom side of a leaf.

The creek bed proved to be a hot spot for bug detection.  

Just as the last bug box received its occupant, increasing noises told us the Middle School students were on their way.  The children moved over to the side and transitioned easily from bug-scientists to race spectators.  They cheered and whooped and encouraged as the entire middle school body sprinted, jogged (or in some cases walked while eye-rolling) along the beautiful Penn View nature trail. 


The ever-enthusiastic Mr. Wikerd was leading the way.  Ahead of the runners, he crashed through the forest on a motorized gator while shouting “We’ve got a race coming through here!” I really need to put a hearing test on my calendar for the person who decided to give that man a megaphone….

As I left the class to head back to my office, the last few runners were just entering the woods.  I was walking against race traffic so one of the helpful 5-year old students shouted some sage advice in my direction.  "Don't get RUNNED OVER!"  

In spite of the nice assortment of mosquito bites dotting my arms and ankles, a WONDERFUL day of discovery was had by all!