Dan's Papers - March 14, 2008 -

People say a child's brain is like a sponge, soaking everything up. But if you've ever spent time with a child and heard some of the outrageous deductions that come from the machinations of a trippy, little forming brain, you know that information doesn't just go in and sit in a heavy, sopping sponge. Kids don't soak it all up - they cherry pick details of experiences that are important to them for unknown reasons. Their brains are actually more like mulchers, taking in raw material, grinding it up and spewing it out.

Of course, parents and teachers like to think that they actually have some influence over this process. Sure, we can try to control what goes in, but our power stops there: We have no part in how it will be processed, absorbed or discarded. The best we can do is to keep the gears of active minds engaged with inspirational information, happy thoughts and our own good intentions.

In Miss Betty's and Miss Sandy's class at the East Hampton Pre-K, my son has yoga and music every week, in addition to other instruction that used to leave me slack-jawed. The other day, sitting in his playroom while mastering Barrel of Monkeys, my partner pointed out that he was sitting "criss-cross apple sauce." He corrected us. "This is full lotus!" I am no longer fazed. He had said "namaste" to me the week before, after singing "Heads, shoulders knees and toes" in Japanese.

And earlier in the year - bless the artists of the East End - folks from the Pollack-Krasner Institute visited his school for the day. The students had been learning for weeks about Jackson Pollack, the action painter. And they all got to drip and drizzle and splash paint to their heart's content. My high-energy son, a living action figure, loved it.

But he seems happy to leave the art projects at school. At home, he has another passion: experiments. I must admit I don't understand the logic - it has a lot to do with mixing different colored liquids together and keeping them in jars, and holding objects in a state of suspended animation. But, being parents who shine a flood light on a glimmer of interest, we got him science kits and books, and I jumped at the opportunity to take him to see Mad Science at Bay Street Theatre, a show designed to teach Newton's three laws of motion.

The extremely well done production had plenty of great gadgets and towering gizmos, a huge video screen running footage of exploding watermelons, scenes from 1950s labs, launching rockets - all set to a great disco soundtrack. And the show hadn't even started! When the actors came onstage it got even crazier - water splashed, balloons burst, ping pong balls shot out of tubes, and my son was learning about gravity, inertia, force.

Later, when we got home, he was excited to tell my partner about the show. Ha! I knew he had learned something. Our little boy, conversant about the laws of motion. "Do you remember the scientist's name," I asked.

"Yes," he said confidently. "Jackson Pollack."

Hmm. Laws of motion. Action painter. Okay. He made a legitimate connection. And so did I. The gears were operating. Or, as Jackson Pollack would put it - objects in motion tend to stay in motion.