Beam Me Up, Scotty

As school was winding down last spring, I received an email about a NASA camp for kids that was going to be held at my school over the summer. The email said that, in addition to providing a full week of educational fun for the kidlets, the NASA program was also going to provide a couple days worth of training for teachers. "Science and math teacher training in the middle of summer?", I thought, "REALLY? That is a horrible idea!"

And then I signed up.

Now, I am in no way the type of teacher who spends the summer in classes and in-services or, heaven forbid, in masters degree programs. I am the type of teacher who spends the summer swimming, visiting family, playing around with friends, substituting in primary, spearheading library fundraisers, organizing my classroom, and working on lesson plans. So why did I decide to sacrifice some of my rapidly disappearing summer days to build rockets?
Well, I didn't sign up for NASA camp because I want to follow in fellow Idahoan Barbara Morgan as a teacher in space. Me, ride in a spacecraft? I don't even like roller coasters.

I am very interested in space in the same way I am very interested in sharks, volcano's, camping, and blind dates. They are fun to study/watch from a distance, but I wouldn't want to actively participate.
Likewise, I did not sign up for NASA camp because I was bored. I wish I was bored. I dream about being bored. And of napping. I dream about napping a lot. Is that weird? To dream about sleeping while you are sleeping? Maybe I should look for a psychology camp to attend next summer...

I also didn't sign go to NASA camp because I enjoy science and math. To quote one of my favorite t-shirts, "I am an English teacher. You do the math."
I signed up to take an astronomy class in college once because I am a girl and, as such, I enjoy looking at the stars. I think they are pretty. Or I did think they were pretty until that first astronomy class. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that astronomy is only 5% pretty stars and 95% evil, brain-melting math. I don't think my love of the stars, or my college GPA, will ever recover.
Want yet another reason why I didn't sign up for NASA camp? Well, it sure wasn't because I have tired of the freedom to use the washroom whenever I want to. When you only have the freedom to piddle at will for three months of the year, the decision to give up even a few days of that freedom is not easily made.


The fact that participants received a free university credit wasn't the deciding factor either. A contributing factor, maybe. But certainly not the deciding factor.
But despite all of those un-reasons, why did I spend last week at NASA camp?

Because of this kid.

For two spring breaks in a row back when he was in 1st and 2nd grade, my nephew Bentley challenged me to space knowledge competitions. And both times, he beat me.

I, a professional educator, was intellectually spanked by a kid who, at the time, consistently put his clothes on backwards.

It might sound petty and/or puerile, but I spend the week at NASA camp because I can't lose to him again. I can't.

But now I am ready for him. Bring on the questions about gravity and shuttle history and Mars rovers and space toilets. I am ready for it.

Just as long as none of the questions require math.

Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to use the washroom. Because I can.