Science-y Things: Science Fair Season

One time—when I was a chubby little five-year-old who required a step-stool to reach the sink and believed in the tooth fairy—I went in search of my older sister in order for her to help me do "science-y things". I was bored, persistent, and wanting to conduct an experiment, so I convinced her to help me set one up. This complex, mind-boggling experiment consisted of food coloring, milk, and my favorite, although slightly faded, Disney Princess cereal bowl. It went something like this: carefully (or, not so carefully) place drops of food coloring into milk, mix it a little, drop in another color, and see what happens. And repeat. I was an overexcited, knowledge-hungry preschooler who defied all kinds of organized action (see: mad scientist), so I abandoned the scientific method entirely, ignored any thought of research, and didn't think to leave a write up of my fantastic findings for future generations. This was my first (somewhat) organized science experiment, and my first interest in science-y things.

Fast-forward to middle school: I joined a club called Science Olympiad, where I could choose 2-3 themed events to compete in against numerous other aspiring scientists. I didn't see my future self as a scientist, however. I'll admit, the only reason I joined this group was because I was (and still am) a nerd, so I figured it was expected of me. I had to maintain my reputation, after all. Fortunately, I lost this mindset later in life, after an extremely dull experience as a math league member. Science Olympiad actually turned out to be a super fun, rewarding experience, and a lucky middle school me got to be partners with the cute boy who I happened to have a crush on. Anyway, I competed in numerous events, but there was only one I really cared about, one love of my scientist life, one certain event called Crime Busters. It was a forensics based event, so it was, you know, the "cool" kind of science. The first year I did it, I earned a fourth place medal, and the second year I brought home the hardware with a first place medal. I didn't get a chance at a third year because I moved away from my state, my Science Olympiad group, and my middle school crush. At the time I was devastated, but I would later look back on this change as a positive event. (I know what you've been thinking—"Why is almost half of this "book review" more like a long lost chapter of Em's autobiography?"— Just go with it, it'll all work out, I promise. Continuing on...

In high school, I discovered my love of the business world and planned a future there. That didn't stop me from taking chemistry courses, though, because I still enjoyed a good class period of science-y things. I know I love science, but can I really describe what it is in a way that fully encompasses it? Could I ever really sum up its significance, its role, and its everlasting presence in our lives in just a brief description? It's an experiment, it's a club, and it's a course, but it's also so much more. And this book, Science Fair Season, really expanded upon that through the stories of some ordinary, yet extraordinary, kids.

A fourteen-year-old who did something with nuclear physics and fusion that I probably couldn't begin to understand even if I tried. A Navajo boy who created a solar-powered heater out of necessity for his family. A girl with leprosy, but also with energy, optimism, and a great mind. Horse therapy research, bee studies, and using music to reach children with autism. All of them competing at Intel International Science and Engineering Fair, which offers millions of dollars in prizes and scholarships.

When I first picked up this book, I was a little afraid that an occasional bomb of science jargon would explode in my face, leaving me confused and overwhelmed. Fortunately, this was not the case. Each story was a tale of heart, creativity, and a common thirst for knowledge; a story of something so simple that developed and grew into something beautifully complex. Whether they were poor or wealthy, highly educated or not, nerdy, girly, or even a delinquent, every child discovered solutions, success, and satisfaction. The author, Judy Dutton, does a fantastic job of revealing the diverse, unique personalities of each child. She also highlights the fact that one does not need to possess a vast understanding of scientific equations and complex concepts in order to succeed. Each child was driven by necessity, passion, curiosity, and other simple factors that are similarly planted inside of all of us. Anyone is capable of science and discovery. What truly matters, what truly makes a difference, is the choice to act, the determination to work past obstacles and obtain resources, the patience to push through frustrations, and the confidence to believe in yourself, your findings, and a future better because of all of it.

If only I still had the bold, audacious determination and curiosity of my five-year-old self. But it's not too late.
xoxo  
-Em