The Curiosity of Children

My spring break has officially began this week (one of the perks of being a teacher), and in celebration, I took my daughter to one of my favorite places in this city, the science museum and planetarium. Granted, this little building is a pretty sorry excuse for a science museum, most of it is horribly outdated (exhibits remain from when I was a child), but I didn’t think my three-year old daughter would mind.

This museum was very near my home when I was growing up, and it was my favorite weekend destination, which gratefully my grandparents were always more than happy take me. I would spend hours in the main gallery, getting my hands dirty with “science” with all their interactive exhibits, and then more hours in the planetarium, gazing up at the projected night sky, memorizing the locations of all the stars, planets, and constellations for the month.  The best part of spending my days there was that I would always leave feeling as if I understood the world around me just that much better. I would walk into the parking lot looking at everything with a slightly more critical and keen eye, and that feeling would carry me well into the week. And when the sun went down, the curiosity that was piqued in the planetarium would be given free rein as I looked into the night sky and was awed by the sheer enormity of it all.

Madison looking into a zoetrope.

So with all of that in mind, I took my daughter to spend the day at the same museum, which, as I mentioned above, hasn’t changed much in the past thirty years. She loved it. She hopped and ran from exhibit to exhibit, trying her hand at all of the hands-on exhibits, asking for explanations, her eyes brightening with understanding every time she “got it.” She was mesmerized by fluid dynamics, spent exceptionally long periods of time staring at close up images of our planets, and even built her own Lego solar-powered car. Watching her eyes widen with excitement when we walked into the main gallery and she took it all in was wonderful in and of itself, but seeing her curiosity and awe take flight really made it all worth while. Not to mention that seeing and experience everything in that little museum again through her eyes rekindled my sense of child-like wonder.

As we were walking out, her new orange dinosaur in hand, she told me that she wanted to return every day. That night she asked to take out the telescope, and although it was cloudy, we did get a good look at the moon. As she looked through the telescope and I looked at her, I realized just  how lucky I am to have a daughter who is so bright and so curious. It was a beautiful day and it made me think of what Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote in his essay “On Life,”

Let us recollect our sensations as children. What a distinct and intense apprehension had we of the world and of ourselves!

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10 thoughts on “The Curiosity of Children

  1. That’s awesome 🙂 I was working til 7:30pm tonight and got home after 8. J was still up and even though I was sick, I was hoping he’d want to go outside and have a quick squint at Venus and Jupiter. I wanted to show him how they had moved since Saturday and Sunday night, when we had last seen them.

    Alas, he was in his pyjamas and having his dinner so he said no. I have to say, I was a little disappointed, but that’s okay. We can look again another night 🙂

  2. Maybe it’s a good thing that the museum is outdated, your daughter gets to learn from things that you learned from! Great post!

  3. The irresistibly fascinating Neil deGrasse Tyson addresses the curiosity of children in the first question of this video:

    Warning!

    You will likely spend the next thirty or so unplanned minutes watching and listening to Neil deGrasse Tyson videos to your fore, and intermittently sensing to a significant other’s voicing pleasantries from your aft.

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