Did you know that scorpions glow in the dark? You do now.
Another thing you might not know, is that I'm a teacher in training. I love what I do. In addition to lesson planning and teaching, I've been trying to experience as many events as I can while I'm still "learning". This last week was no different. Last Thursday was STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) night, and I loved it with all my heart!
I'll admit, I participated originally out of obligation and a desire to be as "visible" as possible, but by the end of the evening I would've happily done it again for the sole purpose of exploring and appreciating the wonders of God's great creation (insects, obviously) with his little children.
I was given rule over the Emperor Scorpion station - complete with real, live scorpion and black light. This in and of itself was exciting until the woman in charge, as she was briefing me on my 30 second spiel, shined the black light on my little sable specimen. Much to my delight, he turned my favorite shade of blue.
I was sold.
I excitedly waited at my unassuming station all the way in the farthest corner of the cafeteria for the event to start. My host teacher, who had so very graciously volunteered her cheer-hearted time as well, meandered over to me and asked where she needed to go for her station assignment.
I pointed her in the direction of the woman I'd spoken to, but before she turned to leave I waved my hand excitedly over my box, "They gave me a live scorpion!" I said ecstatically, "Want to see him?"
"No thank you," came the short response.
Undaunted, I continued, "He glows in the dark!!"
My host teacher raised a brow, and said immediately with the most unimpressed tone imaginable, "Isn't that special." before turning abruptly in pursuit of the events coordinator.
I blinked, shook my head, and pulled my little scorpion (who was actually not so little at all - about four inches in length) closer to myself on the table. "There, there," I assured him, "The children will love you."
And they did.
The first few visitors began to trickle in. Students rushed to teachers they knew, and stations that looked evidently more intriguing than my small box and black rod. When they did finally make their way to me, however, not one was disappointed. Minute after minute I watched new pairs of eyes, both young and old, light up in wonder at the mystery of nature. I spewed the facts I'd been given along with a few of my own that I'd looked up in the moments I had between the children and their parents.
Then my kids came.
About 8 children from my class showed up and came skipping over to see Miss Becca and gasp at her glowing scorpion. One of them even ran between my station and the others picking up friends to bring them over and make them believers. I was sad to see the night end, but I left with such a feeling of accomplishment. The next morning, however, really topped it off when some of the students who had been there greeted my host teacher (who had also manned an apparently less gripping station for the night) at the door by exclaiming, "Did you see Miss Becca's scorpion last night? It was the coolest thing ever!!"
Yes it was, children. Yes it was.
