How do I hate science fair? Let me count the ways. I hate it to the depths of the gallon jugs of hydroponic solution made with pH 5.0 buffered acid solution, with pH 5.6 buffered acid solution, and with pH 4.5 buffered acid solution. I hate it to the breadth of the length of the roll of aluminum foil used to cover the inside of the plant light house. I hate it to the height of the nine little 20 ounce soda pop bottles cut down to make a bottle growing system but then stacked end on end and multiplied by one hundred. I hate it to the depths and breadths and heights my soul can reach.

I generally like science. I loved helping Day-Hay discover that putting twice as much oil as water on top of water still would not make the oil sink to the bottom because density is not a matter of weight. Much of my pleasure reading is about genetics and biology. I liked dazzling a bunch of Brownies as I blew up a balloon just by using common kitchen chemicals in a bottle. I like discussing science more than the average person.

But science fair takes over family life. It also seems to require so much from me even when it is Kat doing the project. I�m the one who drives all over town looking for a circular flourescent bulb of proper wattage and a bare socket, cord, and wire that the bulb will fit into. I�m the one who helps Kat the Artist figure out how to do mock-ups of the bottle growing system like a real engineer and to figure out where we need to cut the bottle to have an adequately sized planting funnel. I�m also the one who is designated nag so that we are sure that the project is being done on time.

Science fair also makes me feel inadequate. Some kids have parents who are doctors and who have access to labs and fancy equipment. The best I can do is show my kid how to enlist the help of the entire high school chemistry department and convince one or two of them to supervise her as she mixes up solutions because they think she is creative and is a go-getter. (They are right about the creativity. The go-getter part is good acting.) I�m good at convincing�much better than I am at science.

Science fair makes me worry. What happens if the experiment falls apart? Kat had that happen in seventh grade because her lima beans did not germinate. She (with my supervision) over-watered them. We scrambled and used something else but really did not have very good data. It did not matter in seventh grade because just participating got her an A. So she didn�t win. I didn�t care (even if she did.)

But she cares deeply this time�not about the science but about the grade and looking good at the fair and she knows she can�t do it entirely alone. What she hasn�t yet figured out is that, despite my show of confidence, I�m not sure that I�m of much help except in a very minor supporting role. (I can pick up those little seeds in a tweezers and she can see where I put them if they roll away. Big deal.)

Perhaps this time is as good as any to take a deep breadth and let go. The science fair project is Kat�s. She�ll either fail, do well enough, or succeed wildly. In the long-term scheme of things, it probably doesn�t matter. But it sure doesn�t feel that way right now.

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