A real learing experience

Posted Jan 6, 2009 by Mike Winter

Updated Jan 6, 2009 at 03:06 PM

I tried. I really did. Educational toys! That was what I vowed to get our daughter for Christmas. Nothing but educational toys. Things like the Disney Princess’ Chemistry Lab and My First Particle Accelerator. The holidays would be her launching pad into the wonderful world of learning. In weeks her bedroom would become a testament to all things scientific. The pooping dolls and mechanical puppies would be relegated to the forgotten corners of the closet or the dim expanse under her bed. The talking chicken would be banished to the bottom of the toy box (she was always afraid of it anyway) . Instead of Tinkerbell Wings and ballerina outfits there would be lab coats and safety goggles. Instead of a spin art table splattering psychedelic paint across the carpet, a centrifuge would be separating out the components of unique compounds while a mini-planetarium projected celestial wonders across the ceiling.

“ Yes, that was the dream. And sometimes dreams come true. But not this time. While standing in the aisles of Lakeshore Learning, a store dedicated to all things intellectual, I began to have second thoughts about my grand scheme. Would a five-year-old really appreciate a magnetometer, even if it was pink and had flowers painted on it? Would a girl who spent much of her time coloring horses various shades of lavender enjoy building a functioning dynamo (Hours of fun! Comes with non-conductive gloves in seven day-glow colors! Reciprocal saw and diamond-tipped drill bit not included) . Could geography flash cards really supersede her oversized Finding Nemo playing cards?

Sure, there were a few items that I was fairly certain she’d get a kick out of. The bug vacuum was pretty cool. Using what looked like a modified turkey baster, a budding entomologist could capture any creepy-crawly up to the size of a marble. I could easily picture Tess running around the yard sucking up a wide assortment of interesting samples. I could also picture my wife’s reaction when a horde of six- and eight-legged creatures came swarming out of my daughter’s room to lay claim to their new breeding grounds.

The volcano-building kit also gave me pause. Father and daughter, bonding over the dinning room table as chicken wire and paper mache came together to form a working replica of nature’s most savage geological feature was a tempting proposition. A promotion video began to play in my mind’s eye: WATCH as baking soda and vinegar “lava” pours down the sides! THRILL as model trees and cars are covered by the fizzy flow! RUN as the concoction spills across the table and onto the floor! HIDE when mom demands to know who’s responsible for this mess and don’t give me “it was the girl” because none of this would have happened if you hadn’t bought her that stupid thing and now the tablecloth is ruined and there’s spiders in the kitchen. RETURN to your senses and dart out of the store before you succumb to the temptation of buying The World’s Largest Ant Farm – Complete With Queen!

In the end, my daughter did get a few presents that could, if you squint just right, be considered “educational.” I bought her a horse she could paint. That taught her equine anatomy, right? Her mother bought her a toy carousel. That taught her the power of centrifugal force when applied to three-inch figurines (look at Barbie fly! She should have been holding on tighter when the Merry-Go-Round hit Mach 4) . Her grandfather bought her a working replica of an ATM machine. That’s teaching her how to be thrifty by ignoring working replicas of ATM machines. And her uncle bought her a Wii.  Now, instead of spending her free time examining paramecium under a microscope, she spends its standing in front of the television making frenzied punching motions as an on-screen opponent is pummel into unconsciousness. 

Hurray!