Explosions, Waterslides, and the Local Public Library
(Yes, and it actually all ties together)
A turbulent wave of warmth radiates out from three-hundred restless bodies. The multi-purpose room bursts with students and teachers. Rapidly blinking, I don a pair of vented goggles and a blindingly white lab coat. I shiver. Lukewarm sweat coalesces into beads on the microphone. A moment later, a volunteer from the crowd jabs a blue, hydrogen-filled balloon with a “candle holding apparatus.” The balloon violently explodes in a flash of fire and a reverberating roar as the hydrogen reacts with the atmospheric oxygen, producing water vapor. The adrenaline-fueled crowd deafeningly screams and applauds in approval as I try to rise above the noise, “…that was a pretty magical application of science that Catalyst for Success just showed you. I love it! Science just blows you away! So, for our next experiment…”
I discovered science at the local public library where my childhood consisted of a complete immersion in books about marine biology, dinosaurs, the Coriolis Effect, and most importantly, the human ear. Before elementary school, ear infections erupted in both my ear canals on a monthly basis because my Eustachian tubes were flat. To stop the literally ear-splitting pain and to cure my deafness, my ears, nose, and throat specialist, Dr. Kearns, implanted “permanent tubes” in my ears. The tubes would gradually fall out. And then, I would have another surgery. Dr. Kearns was always in the operating room with me though. The nausea and trauma from the anesthesia and surgeries paled in comparison to my gratitude for him. However, I dreaded the gift of my custom-made pink, blue, and white earplugs. I hid and pleaded and cried when my family headed to the pool or beach where I faced the inquisitive, questing gazes of parents and the relentless questions from kids. Those people drove me to the endless walls of texts and pictures and diagrams in the library. There, I met science. I voraciously devoured all the facts and theories I uncovered. I was addicted. Books were pure dopamine to me. Starting with hearing, I conquered all the senses—and then other organ systems. Science gave me a picture of how everything in the universe fit together. It was beautiful. By second grade, I could explain why I wore earplugs in medical terminology to an anatomy professor. I understood how my ears functioned and consequently burned with anticipation to visit the pool. That summer, I zoomed down the waterslide at the YMCA and splashed into a crowd of kids. When I surfaced, strangers my age pressed around me, bombarding me with questions about those weird things stuck in my ears until I dispersed them with a simple, “It’s a medical condition.” Then, I hopped back in line for another trip down the waterslide followed by another smattering of questions.
The excited chatter of kids followed me from my childhood at the pool to the present outside Feaster Charter’s multi-purpose room where my team and I had just finished presenting our STEM-themed Catalyst for Success “magic show.” At first, only one short boy and three girls surrounded me as I set an open canister of some smoking chemicals against the wall to air out. But suddenly, twenty elementary schoolers encircled me, all shoving each other and all telling me at once que querían ser científicos. Shocked more than just a little, I immediately replied, “¡Yo también! ¡Y buena suerte! ¡Espero que ustedes lo logren!” A cacophony of exclamations declared their futures. Doctors! Chemists! Rocket scientists! It electrified me. A thirst for knowledge had stricken those kids. I saw my own soul reflected in every single one of their bright eyes. Their excitement spurred mine. On impulse, I added, “It’s going to happen. Catalyst—I’m—we’re going to come back here so we can help you reach your goals.” And then I smiled and laughed as I gave the kids high fives and nudged them down their own waterslides.
