The Science (un)Fair

Yesterday, I overheard a conversation between two kids about the projects they're working on for their upcoming Science Fair.  My mind was immediately flooded with a Science Fair memory from days gone by.

I was somewhere in the neighborhood of 13 years old.  I have not the slightest clue as to the source of my inspiration, but I decided that my science project would be to explore how playing music to plants affected their growth.  No, you did not misunderstand.  I played music.  To plants.  If I recall correctly, there were about 6 plants, positioned strategically around the house.  Each plant "listened" to a different radio station.  Classical, Top 40, Classic Rock, News Talk, Country, etc.  There was, of course, a "control" plant which got NO MUSIC. 

My experiment was, at best, a half-hearted effort.  I pouted and stomped around and came to resent those stupid plants and the dumb music.  I hated it. 

In my mind's eye, I can still remember sitting in the living room with my parents trying to come up with a catchy name for the project.  Ultimately, my mom's suggestion was the winner.  The project became known as:

"To What Tune Do Plants Dance?" 

(OMG.  I can't even believe I'm writing about this.) 

I, at the tender and very sensitive age of 13, was so totally OVER this stupid science fair and my LAME project with the rhyming name.  I set my sights on the day of the school Science Fair, when I could finally put an end to the experiment and get on with my life.  The date was circled on my calendar and the countdown was on. 

The big day finally arrived, and I lugged all my stupid plants and my project board and the summation of my findings to school.  I had to explain over and over to my friends why I had so many plants.  And my project board with the flamboyant, rhyming name.  Oh, dear.  No wonder I could never get a date. 

I stood sheepishly beside my display as the judges made their rounds.  I answered their questions, all the while eying the clock.  When the fair was over, I did a little jig and went along my merry way. 

Until the unthinkable happened. 

I won the stupid Science Fair. 

My teachers were thrilled.  There were congratulations all around.  But wait!  There's more!  You get to take your project to the county-wide Science Fair!

I was stunned.  Internally, I wept.  I rushed home and pleaded with my mother.  Don't make me go to the county-wide fair.  Please don't make me go.  I don't like science, I hate plants, there is nothing in the world worse than having to go to the county-wide science fair.  I was dramatic. 

And then the unthinkable happened.  Again.

She agreed.  I was stunned.  My mother and I made a pact.  We knew that if my dad found out about my winning, he would insist on my participation in the county-wide torture session.  So we would keep my first prize achievement a secret. 

It was a brilliant plan. 

Except for the unaccounted for wild card.  The very next Sunday at church, the sweet dear mother of one of my friends rushed up to my father as he was coming out of the choir loft and offered her sincere and heart-felt congratulations.  "You must be so proud," she gushed.  And my poor father...

If I recall correctly (and I'm SURE I do), he was PEEVED. 

And my fate was sealed. 

About 3 weeks later, early on a Saturday morning, I made my way to the local community college with plants and flamboyantly titled project in tow. 

Mercifully, I did not even place at the county-wide fair. 

I can say unequivocally that I've never been so glad to lose anything in my entire life.