Editorial: Melted Crayons

Hotter than melted crayons

Last night I thought about this article. Again this morning, as I drove to work with my eyes dry and tired, I thought about it. I wanted to write about melted crayons.

To tell the story, let me make a point. I believe in science. I love science. My outlook on life is based, in large part, on science. But not in the way you think. It’s the people who taught, believed or assisted in science that have had the most effect on my outlook on most things in life, not science itself.

I may write in the future about the effects of science as an outlook. But tonight – tonight – is about melted crayons.

See, when I was in third or four grade (I can’t remember which it was), we were paired up in class to do a science experiment. I was paired with another kid, who like me, was an outcast of the class. Only he was British.

Our project was to build a volcano.

I’ll fast forward through most of the story, but pick it back up here. With the help of my dad, I made a mound of dirt on a piece of plywood. In the center, we made a hole big enough to make magic. The plan was to mix vinegar with baking soda that was in the bottom of the volcano in class to make the eruption. Excellent.

Notice this story doesn’t include kid Britain. Yet.

Here’s the part of the story that, as an adult working 60+ hours a week, makes my heart hurt with happiness. My dad, despite leaving for work before 6AM every morning to begin a long and stressful day, melted crayons on the top of the volcano to make it look like lava.

Yellow, orange, red. All shades of awesomeness.

When I saw it that morning I was ecstatic. It looked amazing. I couldn’t wait to show it off in class. My mom and I carefully loaded it in the car and rode to school. By the time we got it to class I was full of pride from the oohs and ahhhs I had gotten on the way.

Just wait. The big explosion was coming.

A few minutes before the presentations started, kid Britain came over, took out a cup of dirt he brought to “help out with the project”, and dumped it on top of the volcano. It covered up just about every bit of melted crayon my dad (and maybe my mom) had labored so hard to create.

I was furious. I was heartbroken. I think I yelled at the kid. All that hard work. The sheer awesomeness, gone. The eruption went off without a hitch, but the joy was gone.

I think about that story from time-to-time and each time a knot builds in my stomach. All the effort to help a son out – wasted – by someone not contributing and not thinking. It kills me.

There seems to be way too many kid Britains out there. We all deal with them every day. I try not to be one; although lapses do occur. I remember what a little extra effort can do. An event that is totally forgettable; can be anything but.

A great life lesson from something as simple as melted crayons.

Science will break your heart; but it will also make you proud.