A Magnet for Kids

Kate Briggs, Full-time Mentor/Science Specialist at Sheppard Elementary

When I walk across the playground at recess, bathroom key in hand, I suddenly become like the magnet in my most recent science activity. Small children emerge from the darkest corners of the blacktop, hurtling toward me like so many asteroids from last month’s solar system lesson. They cling to my legs, arms, waist; as high as little fingers can reach. I am caught in an eight-armed hug, snared by a rare breed of first grade arachnid. 

Wishing I could fly away like the paper airplanes we made back in October while experimenting with flight, I plead for momentary release. Two of my captors refuse and latch themselves to my legs, one sitting on each foot, tiny limbs wound around my calves. Finally, I recruit some second graders to tickle the parasites, and I escape to the momentary relative serenity of the teachers’ bathroom.

Finally relieved, but knowing what danger awaits me outside, I crack the door and cautiously peer out. The coast appears clear. Three steps out and from the corner of my eye all I have time to see is a streak of brown hair and there she is, a firecracker of a first grader, adhered to my thigh. 

Amused, I keep walking, unfazed by this new attachment. She stares up at me, contemplates her situation, and delivers the best line of the year. “I’m a magnet! And we are opposite poles! I’m stuck!” Struck, I halt my awkward lope. I taught the magnet lesson to the first graders a good four weeks ago, and here is this six-year-old recalling and correctly applying a detail I’d spent all of five minutes teaching. And she is still stuck to my leg, grinning up at me. I would be jumping for joy if she weren’t enhancing my gravitational pull toward Earth. 

Not entirely sure if this is just a lucky guess, I test her knowledge. “Uh oh, but what if I switch my pole? Then we have the same poles! Will we still stick?” This is the fastest I’ve ever had a child detach herself from me. She leaps back, mouth contorted into an anxious smile, eyes wide, searching. Is she correct? Had jumping away been the right magnetic movement? Beaming, I applaud her, already sprinting back to the safety of the CalSERVES cave.