Swept Up in a Vortex of Science

Friday, November 2, 2007

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

Swept Up in a Vortex of Science

By J’AMY PACHECO

Science is a wonderful thing if one does not have to earn one’s living at it.

—Albert Einstein

Let me say this: it’s a darn good thing I can make a living with paper and ink. If I had to be a scientist, my family would starve.

I know this because every year, my daughter participates in an elementary school science fair. Scientists under the age of 10 generally need their parents to drive them to stores for project supplies, fund their research, admire their work (and that of their classmates) on science fair night, and otherwise support their adventures in the wondrous world of science.

Although I never participated in a science fair myself, my daughter thought it sounded pretty interesting and got hooked in first grade. Her first project was very sweet — she germinated seeds using different liquids like water, plant food, Diet Coke and more.

That project did surprisingly well. I think it was because the milk quickly went from sour to absolutely, indescribably stinky and chunky. I think science fair judges like experiments like that.

She subsequently did projects investigating what happens to objects left in hot cars, how roller coasters and animated films work, and other things that are too hard to explain in the space I have here.

It’s science fair time again, and I discovered something new this year. When a child reaches sixth grade, the projects they develop become more interesting, and dangerous.

This year, my budding scientist started out with a project about bridges. But a dinnertime discussion with an uncle who works in aerospace brought the subject of vortices to light, and she was fascinated.

I didn’t know anything about vortices — including the fact that the word “vortices” is the plural of the word “vortex.” Now I know enough about them that I don’t think I want to leave my home anymore.

Vortices, you see, are everywhere. There are vortices in the ocean that Greenpeace says are causing trash to accumulate in the “Eastern Garbage Patch.” Some people say they’re also sucking up ships in the Bermuda Triangle.

There are vortices in the air. Some are obvious, like the tornadoes that regularly swallow up Oklahoma trailer parks. Others are not so obvious, like the ones created by big airplanes that sometimes bring little airplanes to the ground. Literally.

My house has been whirling with vortices. Last Sunday, for example, I had a tornado brewing on my stovetop. I suspect few people know that you can create a tornado on your stovetop using cardboard, tape, plastic wrap, and boiling water.

My daughter also made some pretty impressive vortices out of different sized cans filled with smoke, air freshener and even just plain old air. (Fortunately, it occurred to me that the air freshener and the incense that created the smoke wouldn’t be a good combination BEFORE any matches were brought out. The result was that a lot of cans got opened at my house last weekend, and none of them exploded.)

Seeing things like flame, poultry scissors and aerosols being used in this year’s science project made me realize that the days of germinating seeds with milk are over. I can hardly wait for next year, when middle school is certain to bring about an experiment involving chemicals.

I’m no scientist, but I am a scientific supervisor. I’m not about to turn over total control of sharp, hot, explosive objects to a child I can still carry. That means mom has to be right there when the cardboard is cut, the cans are smoked, the aerosols are sprayed and the water is boiled and harnessed.

Honestly, it all scares me. Seeing how many chocolate chips a bowl of cookie dough can hold is about as scientific as I want to get in my kitchen. Frankly, I’d rather not become well informed about tornadoes, whirlpools, plane crashes, and the spiritual vortices that apparently make Sedona, Arizona the place it is today.

But you can’t be the mommy of a scientist without getting sucked up in a bit of science, so here I am, brewing tornadoes on my stovetop.

Save me.