The Rookery

We hope that an honors project marks both an end and a beginning for our students.  In many ways, it is the culmination of their academic careers here at Prairie Creek.  We know from alumni that it often serves as a model and a benchmark for their future "big projects."  But sometimes, even after the sundaes are eaten, these honors projects aren't quite done.  They are still evolving, rippling out like pebbles in a pond.

Yesterday, S.C. shared that a recording of his honors project had been passed from his uncle, to his uncle's friend, to a friend of Charles Schultz (S.C.'s honors project subject).  That friend had played hockey with Charles Schultz and was touched by Sam's interest and so impressed by the project that he is sending Sam one of the hockey medals he and Schultz won together.

I.G. then shared that she had gone to a book reading by a man who owns a buffalo ranch.  She learned about a presentation his wife was giving at the coop and attended that, too.  Afterwards, she chatted with the couple and they were so impressed by her paper that they are posting it on their website.  In addition, they issued an open invitation for I.G. to visit their ranch and participate in the butchering of a buffalo.  So, we know what the Grays are doing for summer vacation.

One student's great uncle asked me what grade his grand-nephew was going to receive for the project.  I launched into my "progressive education" spiel.  Instead, I wish I had known these two stories — what better measure of one's accomplishment than the impact they have on others?

In other news, the class has really taken to the Socratic method introduced in J.A.'s honors project.  I went to do a very quick math lesson on topology and the Mobius strip a few days ago.  It's a little like a magic trick, so I was all set with my spiel.  I held up a strip of paper, "How many sides does this strip of paper have?"  "Two!"  "Six!"  "Four!"  An argument broke out.  This was not going according to my script.

"Woah, woah, those of you who are saying 'four,' what do you mean?" "Well, it has four edges.  A rectangle has four sides."  "Yeah, Michelle, what is a side?" the Socrateses asked.  Fair enough.  I rephrased my question.  "How many surfaces does this strip have?"

"Two!" (the answer I had expected) and then "Six!"  "Woah, those of you who are saying 'six,' what do you mean?"  "Well, there are to two large flat surfaces and then their are the four side surfaces"  "Yeah, it's like a really, really flat box!"  I grimaced, narrowed my eyes and shook my head.  This was not going at all according to plan.  "Yeah, Michelle!  Think about it — if you stack up paper, it gets taller so they must have a surface."  The kids who had said "two" were starting to nod their heads.

Smarty pants — the lot of them.  I continued, modifying my script parenthetically to address both camps.  "So, the strip has two (six) surfaces.  How many surfaces does it have now?"  I taped the strip in a ring.  "Still two!"  "Four!"  O.K.  I took a new strip, put a half twist in it and taped the ends together then traced a line down the middle (try it yourself if you've never seen it).  "Now how many surfaces does it have?"  It was my turn to ask the question.  "How can something have only one side?"