Tower Of Power

I write many posts about my classroom and the stuff that makes up the daily life of an educator. I do it very carefully, though. I rework things just a bit, tweak the settings, alter the timelines...anything to make sure that I don't cross the delicate line and lend an identity to a student. Today, I'm going to dance perilously close to that line. But the story is too good to not be told.

There is a student in my class who has a myriad of disabilities, many of which affect his ability to interact successfully with others. In addition to that, he also happens to be a genius. It's a tough mix and an even tougher teaching situation. He can out-think me. He is kind about this, but we all know it is true. Hence, when he comes up with a project that holds his interest and which he can prove has some educational value, I generally let him run with it. He'd do it anyway so it is in my best interest to support it.

A while back, he developed an interest in miniature boat building and I agreed to let him craft one for credit. However, I had some difficulties getting the material he wanted so I picked up some stuff to keep him occupied while I figured out how to meet his needs. What I handed him was a package of craft sticks, remarkably similar to those coffee-stirrers you find next to the Styrofoam cups when you are grabbing a java to go.

Boats went out the window. Bridges became the order of the day.

For weeks now, he has been constructing bridges out of these flimsy bits of wood then stress-testing them to see how much weight they can hold. The weight, in this case, was hardcover books of all shapes and sizes. The first bridge held perhaps 8 before collapsing, a feat I found impressive. He knew he could do better.

I have cleaned out the craft store of little sticks. As quickly as I could replenish the supply, he needed more. The classroom was redolent with the scent of hot glue searing cheap wood. Sometimes there was smoke. He examined each and every collapsed bridge and redesigned the next to shore up the areas that had failed to take the pressure.

Today, he was ready to test his design again. Books from all over the classroom were collected and he began stacking. Eventually, we ran out of hardcover books. He had no interest in paperbacks. The librarian was contacted for assistance and dictionaries were procured. I even snapped a picture with my phone to record the event. This bridge would not give in no matter what we did.

Finally, we resorted to human cargo. Several students and staff stood upon this little bridge. None could break it. Finally, one of my teaching assistants convinced him that we needed to travel down to the gym and ask to borrow the weight room. There, we could find metal plates which were clearly labeled and would give us a better idea of the amount of weight we were placing upon this miracle of modern architecture. My entire class headed down to watch.

Plate after plate was settled upon the little bridge. It never so much as creaked. Two students raced off to find the tech. ed. teacher ("shop," building trades" or "industrial arts" for those of us from an era gone by) It was felt that he would appreciate this. The Guidance department showed up to lend their support. One of my teaching assistants kept track of the weight being added and announced the total each time a new plate was set upon another. Finally, someone reminded me that this was the sort of thing I might want to photograph. I sped up the stairs to grab my phone. Sadly, by the time I got back down to the gym, the bridge had had enough. It had collapsed.

Anyone want to guess how much this wee, little bridge could support? Anyone?

630 pounds. 285.8 kilograms. All this being held up by coffee-stirrers and hot glue.

It was all my class could talk about. They all gazed in awe at the shy, awkward boy who doesn't really "get" people and the miracle he had wrought. He was a god.

But the builder had eyes only for his creation. He observed it with the same level of clinical interest as he had all the previous bridges. While the rest of us mourned its collapse, he took great pleasure in it because he knows that the lesson is really in finding the breaking point.

Plus it made a really cool keeerrrr-ACK sound when it finally gave up the ghost.

Maybe this isn't interesting to everyone. Maybe only a few people out there can be filled with a sense of wonder at the sight of a towering stack of metal plates being supported by the most fragile of materials. I'm sure there are those who are more fascinated by the science of it all than anything else. Some might even want to explain it to me in great detail.

I understand that. We all see the magic through our own lenses. But I might just feel a little bit sorry for them because it was all the more beautiful for my not understanding it completely.

A fourteen year old boy was able to build a bridge with naught but hot glue and sticks that would support well over three times his own body weight. (Yes...he is a big boy) He did this in less time than it took me to knit two sleeves that don't cover three times my body circumference.

Powerful magics...

SA