I woke up this morning with a nagging feeling. I had ignored most of the hype around the solar eclipse and was only vaguely worried about not making any of my children blind. But this morning, I felt that old familiar nudge of homeschooling mommy guilt. “I cannot believe you’re not going to turn this rare phenomenon into a learning opportunity for your kids. You probably didn’t even make a pin hole projector. Poser!”
Ack; that voice. I hate that voice. FINE. We’ll do something.
I loaded everyone into the van to make the 45-minute drive to the science museum. As we rounded the corner we saw HUNDREDS of people – probably most of them parents more willing to enhance their children’s education than I – gathered onto various outdoor overlooks and green spaces, all eager to catch of glimpse of the universe’s rare treat. The parking ramp was full. Of course. As were the nearby surface lots. Naturally. At last I found an available spot after stalking someone I sensed was about to leave. We then headed to the payment station where I proceeded to give the city of St. Paul a $3 tip it surely doesn’t need when I failed to notice the giant “NO CHANGE GIVEN” sign. So far, this field trip was going awesome.
We made our way into the museum, fought our way through hundreds of non-members waiting in line for tickets and onto the rooftop deck where we were promptly told that they had run out of complementary observation glasses. Seriously, you guys, just a day in the life. Fortunately, my finely tuned stalking skills once again zeroed in on a woman I was pretty sure was leaving. I creepily raced up to her and she agree to give us one of her three pairs of glasses. Five observers, one pair of glasses, we got this!
Except for the clouds. Lots and lots of glorious stratus clouds (or were they cumulonimbus?) stretched across the sky. See kids, science is everywhere! I may not have paid much attention to the news surrounding the eclipse, but I was fairly certain you needed to be able to see the sun in order to see the eclipse. So we waited. And waited. Finally the crowd gasped and little cheers erupted as the sun glimmered through a tiny break in the clouds. Its appearance was just long enough for my 11 and nine-year olds to catch a glimpse. “Cool! Mom, I saw it!” (My homeschool mom satisfaction meter beginning to climb…) A few minutes later we were treated to another bit of downtown excitement when a passing train blared it’s horn at the crowd. This, of course, threw my three-year-old into full-blown, ear covering, panic, just in time for the next break in the clouds. This one was long enough for my five-year-old to catch a glimpse, my three-year-old to refuse to try and me to grab the glasses. I covered my eyes and lifted my head, ready to take in this spectacular and rare cosmic event. Through the sea of black protective plastic, I could make out a tiny orange arc that reminded me of the tiny, paper-like curves you pile up after trimming your baby’s nails. THIS IS IT???? This is what we had wasted our entire morning on????
The kids seemed unaffected, so I hid my disappointment as we headed back into the museum. Everyone had identified at least one favorite exhibit they wanted to check out before we left – the human body exhibit where the girl sneezes at you when you open the little door, the light exhibit where you stand in front of the big projector and can see your shadow tripled into the color spectrum, the weird medical inventions from the early 1900s. At least this trip wasn’t a total bust, I reasoned to myself.
As we headed to the car, my kids all agreed, “The solar eclipse was SO COOL!” I swallowed my sarcastic retorts and just smiled. This is homeschooling. This is life. Sometimes the spectacular disappoints. Sometimes the simple surprises. And sometimes a crazy morning spent with your kids is the only success you really need.
