Over the past few months, we have been downsizing, moving into age-appropriate accommodation, and blogging has been low on my priority lists. Last Tuesday, I was offering an antique microscope, which probably no longer works, to my fellow volunteers, mainly for its decorative value.
Jen, whose grandson is in the same class as one of my granddaughters, said her grandson liked looking at things. "I have something better for Finn," I said.
In 2018, I was approached by a start-up: they wanted somebody who could write, knew about microscopes and had interesting ideas, and I had form in all three areas. They had developed a clip-on microscope that worked with tablets and mobile phones. There were two versions, looking like this:
They needed curriculum-tied activities, explorations that ticked boxes in the Australian Science Curriculum, a document that reminds me of the definition of a camel: a horse, designed by a committee.
I have a Master's degree in curriculum, and a stack of years as a practical science teacher, and then as a matter-of-fact bureaucrat: I know a total rubbish piece of work when I see it, and this is a total bastard camel, devoid of science but full of feelings and platitudes. Trust me: the people who constructed that document would not have got the gig, had I been in charge.
No matter: in my first six years as a classroom science teacher, I operated an open lab where students were able to drop in before school or at lunch time to use the microscopes, or to quiz me about whatever project I was pursuing. Mainly, they brought in stuff to look at under the microscope, so I am a sort of Pied Piper of microscopy. I know what gets kids going, and they are all things that raise questions.
With that background, I jumped at the task. I did it as a pro bono operation, where the IP remained mine, and that gave rise to Looking At Small Things. I got this together, just as the Covid lockdown began, so I raced to get it in print as a way that youngsters in isolation could be educated. Sadly, no publisher would step up to support education, so I self-published. Don't buy the book: get the Kindle version for $4, but know that I am about to pick the eyes out of it here.
Alas, the GoPro went under as others jumped on the same bandwagon, but I was left with a class set of clip-ons, the classy metal ones with a built-in light, and I am quietly seeding those out to grandparents and grandkids. This is dedicated to Jen, Finn, Pippa and Izzy.
I suggest that you bookmark this page, because I plan to use this as the home page/index for the work I do over the next few weeks. Some of them, I have selected because (I was a CSIRO Visiting Scientist in a nearby primary school), my students enjoyed them.
My plan is to start with a few entries on methodology and tricks of the trade, beginning with hand lenses and magnifying glasses, then clip-ons, USB cameras and then, maybe, real microscopes, because they can also support USB cameras.
The index
For now, scroll the blog for later entries, starting here: The Playwiths set
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