The End Of A Season
Yesterday was my last class of the year.
I teach the occasional astronomy class to homeschoolers and anyone who is interested, and have done four in the past two weeks. Today was the most vigorous one, "Walking The Solar System", where we walk, and build, if you will, a miniature Solar System. In 1/10,000,000,000 scale (ten billionth!) scale, the Sun works out to an easy to handle 5.5 inch/137mm ball, an astronomical unit 49 feet/15 metres and the distance to Pluto works out to 1935 feet/590 metres. Of course, Pluto is the size of a grain of sand in this scale, and only the four gas giants are even discernible, being three dimensional representations made from wooden beads of an appropriate size. I had a sizeable turnout for the last class, 16 people in total, and we had a great time, following the class with a telescope workshop. The way the children involved responded to the class was wonderful. A couple of my students are well on their way towards being amateur astronomers, with one of them already planning on being a physicist. At age eleven.
It's easier at times to teach high-minded concepts to children. While we, as adults, can understand the vast numbers and concepts involved, it takes a child's mind, and imagination, to truly be transported by the experience. One of my youngest students, age seven, told me at the end of the walk that "the Solar System sure is a big, big place! I don't think I could ever walk it!" The children seem to really grasp the ideas, even if the numbers really go over their heads at times.
After traveling and building a Solar System, and covering over a kilometer in total, I arrived back at the main pavilion in Mandarin Park for a quick telescope workshop, something that was being done more as a service than a real class. It was aimed mainly at the parents, who want their children to develop a love of nature and science, yet who have no idea what to pick up when it comes to optics. After going over what to avoid, what to buy, how they work, et cetera, I packed it in and headed home.
There won't be anymore classes until after the New Year, but something tells me that while this may be the end of my regular classes, the urge to teach "looking up" will still be there. The temptation is very strong to be a vagabond astronomer, just setting up in mall parking lots and showing people bright objects, which is about all they will see under the glow of those sodium lights. Or maybe I'll set-up at Mandarin Park again, maybe a night before sunset, and let the occasional visitor stroll up and take a look at Creation.
I suppose what all of this is about is that teaching never really stops for me. What I share is important to me. In a day and age when entertainment is a remote or mouse-click away, our tendency to stop and look not just up, but at the world around us, is diminished. To get anyone to slow down and look, that's what I enjoy. Forget my real "amateur" astronomical pursuits (chasing clusters and stellar associations). This is what matters.
So it may be the end of this teaching season, but the teaching doesn't end. Whenever there are questions from people, whenever we have information, and enthusiasm, to share, teaching is always with us.
I teach the occasional astronomy class to homeschoolers and anyone who is interested, and have done four in the past two weeks. Today was the most vigorous one, "Walking The Solar System", where we walk, and build, if you will, a miniature Solar System. In 1/10,000,000,000 scale (ten billionth!) scale, the Sun works out to an easy to handle 5.5 inch/137mm ball, an astronomical unit 49 feet/15 metres and the distance to Pluto works out to 1935 feet/590 metres. Of course, Pluto is the size of a grain of sand in this scale, and only the four gas giants are even discernible, being three dimensional representations made from wooden beads of an appropriate size. I had a sizeable turnout for the last class, 16 people in total, and we had a great time, following the class with a telescope workshop. The way the children involved responded to the class was wonderful. A couple of my students are well on their way towards being amateur astronomers, with one of them already planning on being a physicist. At age eleven.
It's easier at times to teach high-minded concepts to children. While we, as adults, can understand the vast numbers and concepts involved, it takes a child's mind, and imagination, to truly be transported by the experience. One of my youngest students, age seven, told me at the end of the walk that "the Solar System sure is a big, big place! I don't think I could ever walk it!" The children seem to really grasp the ideas, even if the numbers really go over their heads at times.
After traveling and building a Solar System, and covering over a kilometer in total, I arrived back at the main pavilion in Mandarin Park for a quick telescope workshop, something that was being done more as a service than a real class. It was aimed mainly at the parents, who want their children to develop a love of nature and science, yet who have no idea what to pick up when it comes to optics. After going over what to avoid, what to buy, how they work, et cetera, I packed it in and headed home.
There won't be anymore classes until after the New Year, but something tells me that while this may be the end of my regular classes, the urge to teach "looking up" will still be there. The temptation is very strong to be a vagabond astronomer, just setting up in mall parking lots and showing people bright objects, which is about all they will see under the glow of those sodium lights. Or maybe I'll set-up at Mandarin Park again, maybe a night before sunset, and let the occasional visitor stroll up and take a look at Creation.
I suppose what all of this is about is that teaching never really stops for me. What I share is important to me. In a day and age when entertainment is a remote or mouse-click away, our tendency to stop and look not just up, but at the world around us, is diminished. To get anyone to slow down and look, that's what I enjoy. Forget my real "amateur" astronomical pursuits (chasing clusters and stellar associations). This is what matters.
So it may be the end of this teaching season, but the teaching doesn't end. Whenever there are questions from people, whenever we have information, and enthusiasm, to share, teaching is always with us.
posted by Robert at 7:01 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home