When I was in ninth grade, I was part of an after-school program called Dow Explorers (hosted, obviously, by the local Dow Chemicals plant). Once a month or so, a group of us would get together and do simple experiments or projects that tied in to math and science, presumably as a way to see if we were interested in working for said company. I didn't really pay much attention to that side of it, because what we got to do was absolutely fascinating to someone with a sense of exploration. One month we had to bring in water samples from our homes or nearby lakes, and we did various tests to see how much of what additives were in them. Another time we got to learn how the company made Styrofoam and tour the production facility. And one time, we got to make boats...
One of the nearby towns had a yearly regatta-type thing, being situated on a rather large and fairly calm river. A month or two before it, the people in charge of our program asked us to bring a willing parent/ guardian in, and we split up into teams (kids vs elders) in order to design and build a raft- using only x amount of styrofoam and other materials- that we would then test by participating in the regatta. Naturally, none of us were expected to actually win it, it was more just a "let's give 'em something to do, while showing how invested we are in the community" type thing.
We met every week in order to get it done by the race, and I'm relatively proud to say that, while they might not have been beautiful, both our craft and the adults' managed to make it across the finish line without capsizing or losing parts of the boat or crew. The real lesson I took out of the whole deal, however, was one that happened quite unexpectedly, and probably didn't touch anyone else as deeply as it did me.
On the day of the race, the lot of us- maybe twelve kids and a similar number of adults- showed up early to make sure the boats got there alright. We had all chipped in for a potluck-style lunch, and we sat around the cooler that had all of the food in it on the pier, chatting and having fun. Being as that I'm not hugely social, I was kinda hanging out on the edge, watching the other groups in the race get set up (including the local fire department boat, which was pretty interesting all on it's own). At one point, one of my friends asked if anyone else wanted anything out of the cooler, and, when no one responded, she closed it and sat on it, with her feet dangling over the water.
About two seconds too late, I realized I'd finished my food and was still hungry, and asked if I could grab something out of the cooler real fast. Mostly jokingly, she replied, "No, I just sat down! If you want something, get it yourself!" Seeing as how she was sitting on all of the food, though, I did the only thing that came to mind, and pushed her off the cooler, into the water.
Everyone else thought this was the most hilarious thing in the world (especially as I'd seen that there was nothing beneath us, and the water was deep enough that she wouldn't get hurt), but as I stood there, listening to everyone tell me how awesome that was, all I could do was stare at the cooler. For a split second, as my friend had started to fall, she'd tried to grab on to anything in order to break her fall, and the cooler had tipped with her. She hadn't gotten enough of a grip, though, and it fell back onto the pier, but standing there staring at it, I knew with cold certainty that if she had taken it with her, I would have been held in utter contempt from that moment on.
Many times over the past 20 years, I've thought back on that day, usually it's when I've just pulled something off that everyone else thinks is pretty neat. Whenever that happens, though, I can always see the pure chance or convenience of timing that has taken something that could have been a disaster and changed it into a neat story to tell. And I never forget how fickle and risky popularity can be in large groups, because all it takes is one second, as you wait to see which way the situation falls.
One of the nearby towns had a yearly regatta-type thing, being situated on a rather large and fairly calm river. A month or two before it, the people in charge of our program asked us to bring a willing parent/ guardian in, and we split up into teams (kids vs elders) in order to design and build a raft- using only x amount of styrofoam and other materials- that we would then test by participating in the regatta. Naturally, none of us were expected to actually win it, it was more just a "let's give 'em something to do, while showing how invested we are in the community" type thing.
We met every week in order to get it done by the race, and I'm relatively proud to say that, while they might not have been beautiful, both our craft and the adults' managed to make it across the finish line without capsizing or losing parts of the boat or crew. The real lesson I took out of the whole deal, however, was one that happened quite unexpectedly, and probably didn't touch anyone else as deeply as it did me.
On the day of the race, the lot of us- maybe twelve kids and a similar number of adults- showed up early to make sure the boats got there alright. We had all chipped in for a potluck-style lunch, and we sat around the cooler that had all of the food in it on the pier, chatting and having fun. Being as that I'm not hugely social, I was kinda hanging out on the edge, watching the other groups in the race get set up (including the local fire department boat, which was pretty interesting all on it's own). At one point, one of my friends asked if anyone else wanted anything out of the cooler, and, when no one responded, she closed it and sat on it, with her feet dangling over the water.
About two seconds too late, I realized I'd finished my food and was still hungry, and asked if I could grab something out of the cooler real fast. Mostly jokingly, she replied, "No, I just sat down! If you want something, get it yourself!" Seeing as how she was sitting on all of the food, though, I did the only thing that came to mind, and pushed her off the cooler, into the water.
Everyone else thought this was the most hilarious thing in the world (especially as I'd seen that there was nothing beneath us, and the water was deep enough that she wouldn't get hurt), but as I stood there, listening to everyone tell me how awesome that was, all I could do was stare at the cooler. For a split second, as my friend had started to fall, she'd tried to grab on to anything in order to break her fall, and the cooler had tipped with her. She hadn't gotten enough of a grip, though, and it fell back onto the pier, but standing there staring at it, I knew with cold certainty that if she had taken it with her, I would have been held in utter contempt from that moment on.
Many times over the past 20 years, I've thought back on that day, usually it's when I've just pulled something off that everyone else thinks is pretty neat. Whenever that happens, though, I can always see the pure chance or convenience of timing that has taken something that could have been a disaster and changed it into a neat story to tell. And I never forget how fickle and risky popularity can be in large groups, because all it takes is one second, as you wait to see which way the situation falls.
No comments:
Post a Comment