Captain's Log: When Life Gives You Lemons
Apparently you can make invisible ink. This is what I tried to teach the kids this week in Wacky Science, except for one itty bitty, teeny tiny important little detail: the writing wouldn't show up.
Apparently you can make invisible ink.
This is what I tried to teach the kids this week in Wacky Science, except for one itty bitty, teeny tiny important little detail: the writing wouldn't show up.
Lemon juice - and other juices, apparently, but google says lemons work best - is jam-packed with sugars, amino acids, and carbon compounds, along with water. So if you use it as ink, the water seeps into the paper, and the message becomes hidden. Then you use heat, like a hairdryer, and the heat along with the compounds in the lemon juice should combine to rapidly oxidize the compounds so that they break down and appear as brown on the paper. Google says to use construction paper, and the instructions that I used for this recipe said to use construction paper. Does it actually help? Considering I don't have a test group of regular paper, I can't tell you. But it wasn't great. It wasn't even nice.
I've tried doing this preview thing with the kids, where I set up a little demo in the common room where the kids pour out of their classrooms and collect into enrichment class groups. Last time I did this with lava lamps to a big resounding success and it was like turning on the tv for the kids. This time I had a hairdryer, a hidden message on my sheet of light blue construction paper, a flashlight, and what I thought was enough time.
The hairdryer was loud enough to get the kids' attention, and pretty soon I was the performer in front of a crowd. Except my trick wasn't quite working as I expected. I thought I'd see brown show up on the light blue, and the words would be visible. Instead, I saw some lines of discoloration, visually helped via the flashlight, but otherwise nothing. Nada. No point in watching.
The kids that were watching were getting disappointed, and I was trying to play it off while wondering what the heck was going on and why had science failed me. I winked at the kids and said something along the lines of 'if it was that easy, would it really be a secret message?'
I hoped it was just because I chose a light shade of construction paper, or that I didn't use enough lemon juice. Or that the hair dryer was not powerful enough. I still think it's one of these factors, sans the amount of lemon juice. Enough kids and I have tested that one.
Still, I herded the kids to the classroom, where I had set up earlier knowing that I needed to prepare the room with tarps, paper, q-tips as quills, and the lemon juice. I needed to make it an art studio. In a room that was already used for art class.
Yeah, it was easy.
Last week, I had asked the fourth graders in the class what I could do to improve the lesson for them. They had asked for an isolated space so they could 'just do it'. So I gave them that space, preparing a smaller table with a tarp and a small pile of construction paper, q-tips, cups, and lemon juice. Those older kids noticed my effort and seemed thankful, or at least happier.
So I'm glad I did that.
Then I was trying to explain to the class what to do - be artsy! Be creative! Have fun! Draw anything!
And the first 'problem' arrived when the kids were complaining that their drawings were vanishing from the paper. I was able to tell them in what I think is a clever way that the water is being absorbed into the paper, and that's the fun thing about invisible ink.
But I had read there was a time component to this, that we'd have to leave the papers to dry for about twenty minutes. So I tried to build the lesson around this time component, knowing that today seemed to be special for the school and we had less time than usual for this class.
No, I didn't ask why it was special. Not my job, not my priority, not my interest.
Still, the hair dryer would be useful here, right? It would hasten up the drying. And yes, it did, but the message wasn't showing up brown and visible. I used a flashlight, and there was discoloration, but otherwise nothing to reward the kids' efforts.
I was feeling my heart beating in my throat, wondering what could be going wrong, and what I could do. I had to improvise.
So I told the kids that there were a couple confounding variables, and we could experiment to see what worked best. Paper color, paper type, more juice?
But I had lost the kids' attention. I lost their interest. They called this experiment a scam, and as much as I tried to defend the science and the project and everything, I still couldn't get the words to show up so clearly as to constitute a hidden message excitement for the kids. I especially didn't have a UV light, which I suspect would have been quite useful for this experiment.
So the older kids went on to do their own thing, which was apparently playing with a strong magnet, and I went to drying off the papers. The other kids that were still curious, still hopeful, crowded around me like acolytes as I dried the papers. I saw the discoloration, pointed it out to the kids, tried to raise their spirits.
In the end, kids were wanting to drink the lemon juice - which on the rule of this classroom being a temporary lab, they weren't allowed to drink anything - spill it, make messes, and the only thing I could do was mess minimization. I told the kids that were playing with the juice and the cups to get napkins. I told the others to try cleaning up, cause I was seeing messes and class was about to end soon.
One positive thing I could say is that I found that scepter with the pointer finger and used it like a wand once more. Again, I felt regal, lawful, powerful. But against a horde of kids, this feeling isn't lasting long. But it was nice while I had it.
I also came up with another implementation to my lesson design that started with the younger kids on Monday. I had all the materials at my feet, and after the kids started pushing and grabbing at things like hyenas I told them firmly to get in a line, and when they come to me to say three things: "Please", "May I have (insert whatever material here)", and "Thank you".
Because I had q-tips, cups, juice, and construction paper to pass out - and then eventually had to dry out the papers for the messages - I had this cycle of pleas and thanks for five rounds. The kids turned into angels for the most part of this exchange before shifting once again into chaotic gremlins the moment they left the line. But I didn't care about their transformation. I just wanted the politeness, and to see if they could do that.
I found out one kid was mostly mute, which explained why he didn't say "Here!" when I call his name for attendance. Something to do about his anxiety, I think, but whatever the case I wasn't going to force him to speak. Hell no. I'm not cruel.
Instead, I told him to use sign language. If he couldn't speak the words "Please" and "Thank you", he was at least going to sign them. Luckily, one of the other kids in the classroom knew sign language, so they were able to show me and the kid the gestures for the words. He used them, got his materials, and went on his merry way.
Once more, I wished I took sign language in high school instead of Spanish.
If the kid is mute again next class and has to use sign language, I might have to tell him to emote a bit more - make the gesture more obvious - because he seemed a little shy about it. I'm not shaming or judging him for this disability, but I do need to understand what he is saying when he gesticulates. Sign language is important like that, the gesture can leave no room for vagueness or question. It must be absolute.
So I did the same round of pleas and thank yous for the older class, which was a success again. The kids were polite enough in those moments and had similar chaotic transformations afterwards. But at least I knew they could be polite. Next time I'm going to have to quiz them, like I had in the previous class. I think that'll help me to know if they were listening.
At the end of class, when the room was cleaned enough by them that I could do the rest myself without frustration, I stood in front of the kids to say something very important.
I told them I was sorry.
The lesson hadn't gone as planned, and they weren't able to have the fun I wanted them to have with invisible ink. I told them I wasn't sure of the problem, but that in the future I hope we never experience that kind of letdown again. I wanted them to have fun and to learn, and I was sad that they didn't have that kind of learning experience I think we all were hoping for.
Then I asked them what I could do to improve next week's lesson. They chose the low-hanging fruit - "choose an experiment that will work!" - but otherwise gave useful suggestions, like one kid who seemed no more content than when he was reading a book. He wanted more free time at the end for this activity. One kid asked for something similar, so now I'm going to have to implement a chunk of time at the end of class for their expected chaos.
I suppose I'll insert that time between kids cleaning up the class and the class being done. This is where I must really work on time management, but I've been improving so no worries.
At this point the older kids recognized that I gave them their own space for their chaos, so they could recognize that I was listening to them and trying to be respectful to their wishes. So they were respectful to me about their letdowns, and I didn't feel like a total failure.
The younger kids didn't have much to say, other than saying they did enjoy the wacky science class and looked forward to it every week. I'm very happy. In the mess of anxiety, disappointment, and frustration, I felt some light in my heart.
I had written up a script to explain the science of invisible ink to you, my audience, but it seems mute now. There were multiple reasons why it could have gone wrong, and I told the head honcho of class supplies and materials to next time include a UV light for this project. What I will say about the science is that many websites give the same information on it. Carbon compounds oxidize, chemicals break down due to heat, and brown shows up on the paper. The actual detailed science for how this happens is not right there, first thing when I look it up.
Someone did have the same curiosity as me and asked the question on Chemistry Stack Exchange, and they got some nice suggestions of scientific articles to read and what could be the cause. Here's the link if you're curious: https://chemistry.stackexchange.com/questions/80231/explanation-of-lemon-juice-invisible-ink
Otherwise what can I conclude from this week in wacky science? I may have lost a battle, but it looks like I'm closer to winning the war. The war to give the kids a fun learning time.
By the way, I was able to get comments turned on so now you, my fellow reader, can comment on my posts! Constructive criticism is helpful, compliments are always welcome, and anything hurtful for the sake of being hurtful will hurt my soul and I will try to get them deleted.