A Scientist and a Monster Met at an Ant Hill
Both of them were me
As I tried to fall asleep last night, my brain decided to present me with a random memory in full-on IMAX form.
Here’s the scene:
I am seven years old. I find a small ant hill on the side of our driveway. It is a hot summer day full of nothingness, so that ant hill becomes my entertainment.
I place a marshmallow near the mound and watch as the ants swarm, dismantling it with fascinating speed and precision. I race back to the kitchen. Time to conduct an ant “taste test”: sugar smacks, Ritz Crackers, a carrot, and an apple slice. Which food will win? I feel like a real scientist. I wonder if I should record my data somehow. It feels important.
Scene change:
I take a stick and begin to dig. Where does the tunnel go? I grab a small shovel and keep digging — until I find a complex network of tunnels full with tiny grains of white rice?
Wait, no. Those are eggs!
The worker ants begin to move at a frenzied pace. It’s chaos. They are picking up the eggs and taking them away from the monster who has disturbed their peace.
I freeze. My amazement turns to worry. My stomach sinks. Part of me just knows that disturbing a nursery — even an ant nursery — isn’t a Good Thing. I can’t fix what I’ve broken. Can they?
And that’s the whole memory.
“Okay,” I asked my brain, “Why did you want to keep me awake to show me that tonight?” Alas, it didn’t answer. But since I was wide awake, I spent some time thinking about the emotional layers of this memory:
The deep curiosity that emerged from boredom.
The freedom to be outside. Alone. Exploring. For hours. That feeling is so rich I can barely begin to examine it’s lasting impact.
The thrill of raiding the kitchen to satisfy my desire to conduct an experiment.
The wonder of these tiny creatures building a complex world below my feet. The wonder of all the things I did not and do not understand.
The tug of guilt at disrupting this world. The unsettling feeling that I had the power to stamp it out — that was a choice I could make. As my husband reminds my kids at least weekly, “With great power comes great responsibility” (thank you, Ben Parker)
Maybe my brain showed me this moment because I’ve been writing about kids and nature. This week, I have an article up in one of my very favorite publications — Greater Good Science Center Magazine. In it, I describe one hour I spent shadowing a Montessori nature class — a class that always starts with kids choosing a tree and just sitting, just being:
Each student grabbed a small mat and walked into a wooded area behind the school to find a place to sit. A third-grader waved me over. He had found a spot under a giant pine.
“This has been my sit spot since I was in kindergarten,” he whispered. “I know everything about this tree.”His delight reminded me of Maria Montessori’s words: “There is no description, no image in any book that is capable of replacing the sight of real trees, and all the life to be found around them, in a real forest. Something emanates from those trees which speaks to the soul, something no book, no museum is capable of giving.”
Click the image to read the full article. And maybe spend some time thinking about one of your own childhood moments in nature.
Past and Upcoming Appearances
I recently had a chance to talk to Good Day DC about “Surprising Sources of Awe.”
And coming up, I am so excited to give my first official “book talk” about Raising Awe-Seekers for my friends at Parent Venture — the premier provider of parent education in Silicon Valley.
When? Tuesday, May 6 at 5:30PDT/8:30EDT
It’s virtual and free — so you can join from anywhere. Click here to get to register.
Cheers,
Deborah
P.S.
Awe Diary: Week 17
“Raising Awe-Seekers: How the Science of Wonder Helps Our Kids Thrive” comes out in FOUR weeks! Pre-orders make authors super super happy (hint hint).
Day 113:
I found a local pick-your-own tulips garden.  The kids hemmed and hawed about going, but humored me. In the end each picked a bouquet for their bedrooms and decided this could be a new yearly tradition.
Day 114:
My son wants to plant a cherry tree because the blossoms are so lovely. “You know it’ll be a few years before it’s as big as the ones we saw yesterday,” I said.
“I know, but think of all the people who will love seeing it years from now.”
Day 115:
The owner of a local bookstore just told me that they keep selling out of Timothy Snyder‘s “On Tyranny“ … and on copies of the US Constitution. The thought of folks going to their local indie to purchase copies of the Constitution? Well, that was a *feeling* this morning.
Day 116:
Seen in my backyard. Nature makes me feel small in the best of ways.
Day 117:
I reread one of my favorite poems, Gate A4 by Naomi Shihab Nye, and stitched my favorite line from the poem.
Day 118:
An old friend from high school sent me a random text “just because” — and knowing that I crossed her mind (and she did something with that thought) felt really lovely.
Day 119:
A friend's 13yo has fallen in love with the cello, so I looked up this performance to send her way. Yup, still makes me cry.
