I’m not going to lie— elementary science experiments are not my forte. Oh, we do them. But my enthusiasm for them has decidedly waned over the past decade and a half, leaving me with a should-sagging sigh every time I see that one is scheduled.
Baking soda and vinegar volcano? Been there.
Sprouting beans in damp paper towels taped the the window in a sandwich bag? Done that.
Mummifying chicken bones? Skill level: expert.
Mostly, I rely on constant exposure to real-life nature studies to be all the science that my elementary-aged kids need. They can recite frighteningly detailed overviews of the lifecycles of lady bugs, butterflies, cicadas, mosquitos, Hercules beetles, and a whole host of other insects I probably can’t even name. They understand that soil is a living thing, that chicken eggs without bullseyes on the yolks can’t mature into baby chicks, and that the tall cumulonimbus clouds often mean rain is coming.
But sometimes, a question can best be answered not with words or a book, but with doing. And when that happens, I have a very important ally on my side: Jack.
I’ve found, to my delight, that older siblings make great teaching assistants. But unlike the mostly unenthusiastic TAs I encountered in college, my teens and young adults are often thrilled to share their passions with the younger crew. For Jack, one of those passions is science.
He’s my go-to guy for science prep work (he actually seems to enjoy assembling the supplies and doing the legwork), and his explanations of the scientific principles being employed often leave mine in the dust. He’s even a pro at breaking things down into the steps of the Scientific Method and modeling lab reports. Bonus!
Where Jack really shines, though, is in his obvious excitement. He loves science— even the very basic bits that his younger siblings are exploring. That joy is so obvious as he opens the door to discoveries for his younger brothers and sister. He doesn’t just fly airplanes with them… he talks about the physics of flight, the engineering of planes, the evolution of wing designs. He tells stories, too. In this case, it was Sir George Cayley and a little boy who flew in a glider ten years before the Wright Brothers.
Whenever people ask if my younger kids are getting the same caliber of education at home as my older ones did, I want to tell them things like this. I want to point out how God has raised up for these five not just a mother and father invested in their future and striving to give them a greater appreciation for God’s world through the broadening of their minds, but older siblings as well. Older siblings who read books, who answer questions, who pull little ones near to invite them into the process of learning. Older siblings who sing the helping verbs song when a brother is stuck mid-flow in a language arts lesson, older siblings who explain math problems, older siblings who fly planes to explain God’s wisdom in designing the wings of a bird.
These kids aren’t getting the same education. In many ways, what they’re getting is better.
And what I‘m getting, nearly two decades in to this homeschooling journey, is a return on the investment of all those afternoons spent cleaning up the wreckage of tabletop volcano eruptions.
It’s a pretty sweet deal.