to know.
I did, however, include in my notebook a full list of everything I've eaten since last Thursday, including the peanut butter and honey sandwich I made myself for lunch today. The peanut butter came from a jar, but the only things in there were peanuts and salt, so I figure I could have duplicated that at home with a bag of peanuts and a hammer.
But rather than just wait and worry about whether or not Mr. Fizer would approve of all these minor modifications, I decided I'd bring it up with him myself this afternoon. He told us last Friday that we can meet with him as often as we want to make sure our projects are progressing the way they should. I don't want to get two months into this and find out I've messed up.
But when I got to class, I saw I wasn't the only one having a problem.
Kiona was already off in a corner with Mr. Fizer, looking all stressed, showing him the picture she had chosen and discussing it in an intense whisper. I tried to read their lips, but Amanda is much better at that than I am. Thanks to our Sign Language classes, she can eavesdrop as far as her eyes can see.
The bell rang, and Mr. Fizer told us all to carry on with our work. Then he and Kiona went back to talking.
After a few more minutes, Mr. Fizer addressed the class. "Let me remind you of something Einstein once said: 'If we knew what we were doing, it wouldn't be called research, would it?'"
That got a chuckle out of some people, but I was too nervous.
"I don't expect you to have all the answers at this point," Mr. Fizer said. "The purpose of this class is to explore an idea and let ittake you as far as it will. If you pursue a project believing you already know the outcome, what is there left to discover?"
Kiona looked a little calmer after that. She went off to her lab table, but before I could get to the front, Margo hurried to take Kiona's place. She showed Mr. Fizer her research notebook, they talked for a while, and then before anyone else could snag him, I rushed over.
"You've made a discovery, Miss Locke?"
"Yes, sir." And I explained about the pasta and the peanut butter and some other potential transgressions from the weekend.
"Let me see your proposal again," Mr. Fizer said. He read it over, then instead of talking to just me, he once again addressed the whole class.
"Miss Locke raises an interesting issue."
Great. Clearly my pasta violation was a bigger deal than I thought.
"Einstein also said that 'everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.' Think about that. You might find it applies to several of your projects." He handed me back my notebook. "Including yours, Miss Locke."
What was that supposed to mean? I wandered back to my table wishing I had never gone up there. Not only did he make an example of me, but I didn't even understand the example.
I sat there for almost the whole period, just staring at my proposal. I couldn't see what to do. Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler? Okay ... and?
I was so absorbed I didn't even see him come up. "Making things hard for yourself again, Cat?"
I quickly slapped my notebook closed. "No. Go away."
"So how's it going?" Matt asked.
"Fine. Great." I gazed somewhere off to his left. I'm still not readyfor people to see me full-faced, looking the way I do. Especially not Matt.
"I'm serious," Matt whispered. "How's it going?"
"What do you care?" I snapped.
"I just thought--"
"Please go away, all right? I'm busy here."
And I couldn't believe it--he actually looked ... hurt. Come on! As if he hasn't noticed we're not exactly friends anymore.
Matt stood there a moment longer, then turned and walked away without another word. Good. Go. Thank you.
But then why did I have to spend the next five minutes sitting there feeling guilty?
But I didn't have time to worry about Matt McKinney's supposedly hurt feelings. Mr. Fizer was expecting some brilliant answer by the end of class, and I didn't have it.
And then suddenly I
I did, however, include in my notebook a full list of everything I've eaten since last Thursday, including the peanut butter and honey sandwich I made myself for lunch today. The peanut butter came from a jar, but the only things in there were peanuts and salt, so I figure I could have duplicated that at home with a bag of peanuts and a hammer.
But rather than just wait and worry about whether or not Mr. Fizer would approve of all these minor modifications, I decided I'd bring it up with him myself this afternoon. He told us last Friday that we can meet with him as often as we want to make sure our projects are progressing the way they should. I don't want to get two months into this and find out I've messed up.
But when I got to class, I saw I wasn't the only one having a problem.
Kiona was already off in a corner with Mr. Fizer, looking all stressed, showing him the picture she had chosen and discussing it in an intense whisper. I tried to read their lips, but Amanda is much better at that than I am. Thanks to our Sign Language classes, she can eavesdrop as far as her eyes can see.
The bell rang, and Mr. Fizer told us all to carry on with our work. Then he and Kiona went back to talking.
After a few more minutes, Mr. Fizer addressed the class. "Let me remind you of something Einstein once said: 'If we knew what we were doing, it wouldn't be called research, would it?'"
That got a chuckle out of some people, but I was too nervous.
"I don't expect you to have all the answers at this point," Mr. Fizer said. "The purpose of this class is to explore an idea and let ittake you as far as it will. If you pursue a project believing you already know the outcome, what is there left to discover?"
Kiona looked a little calmer after that. She went off to her lab table, but before I could get to the front, Margo hurried to take Kiona's place. She showed Mr. Fizer her research notebook, they talked for a while, and then before anyone else could snag him, I rushed over.
"You've made a discovery, Miss Locke?"
"Yes, sir." And I explained about the pasta and the peanut butter and some other potential transgressions from the weekend.
"Let me see your proposal again," Mr. Fizer said. He read it over, then instead of talking to just me, he once again addressed the whole class.
"Miss Locke raises an interesting issue."
Great. Clearly my pasta violation was a bigger deal than I thought.
"Einstein also said that 'everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.' Think about that. You might find it applies to several of your projects." He handed me back my notebook. "Including yours, Miss Locke."
What was that supposed to mean? I wandered back to my table wishing I had never gone up there. Not only did he make an example of me, but I didn't even understand the example.
I sat there for almost the whole period, just staring at my proposal. I couldn't see what to do. Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler? Okay ... and?
I was so absorbed I didn't even see him come up. "Making things hard for yourself again, Cat?"
I quickly slapped my notebook closed. "No. Go away."
"So how's it going?" Matt asked.
"Fine. Great." I gazed somewhere off to his left. I'm still not readyfor people to see me full-faced, looking the way I do. Especially not Matt.
"I'm serious," Matt whispered. "How's it going?"
"What do you care?" I snapped.
"I just thought--"
"Please go away, all right? I'm busy here."
And I couldn't believe it--he actually looked ... hurt. Come on! As if he hasn't noticed we're not exactly friends anymore.
Matt stood there a moment longer, then turned and walked away without another word. Good. Go. Thank you.
But then why did I have to spend the next five minutes sitting there feeling guilty?
But I didn't have time to worry about Matt McKinney's supposedly hurt feelings. Mr. Fizer was expecting some brilliant answer by the end of class, and I didn't have it.
And then suddenly I
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