I'm not the world's best gift-giver. Depending on who, and why, I may be among the worst - or perhaps the most average. But when it comes to kids, I think I do OK: I generally feel that I hit the mark in finding something that helps stimulate curiosity and wonder. And if I can't find an existing gift, I'll create one - from scratch, or objects at hand or obtained with a particular goal in mind.
Sometimes I swing and miss, but I've been working on it and gotten better with age.
This past Christmas holiday, I think I succeeded: there's one gift I gave that I consider particularly successful - one that provides several possible levels of enjoyment, while encouraging the curiosity and wonder of an eight-year-old.
I won't win any awards for packaging - beneath the wrapping paper, a few pieces of parchment with laser-printed information lay atop a shoebox containing the bulk of the gift - but it wasn't the packaging that mattered.
What mattered was the reaction and interest of the young one receiving it.
It seems as though almost every child is enchanted by dinosaurs. Dinos, fossils, ancient things - things that hint at histories that are, within the mind of a child, little different than stories of myth and legend.
Kids also like to be active, to do things, to uncover and to discover things.
I played on that with a few previous gifting opportunities by bestowing dinosaur dig kits on my nephew. He was far more delighted than his mother - my sister - at the wonderful mess created as he exposed the dino bones and later assembled them.
On Christmas, after assuring his mom that I wasn't giving any more dig kits, I handed him a wrapped gift. He opened it, revealing a few sheets of laser-printed information on 8 1/2 x 11 parchment paper, laid atop a shoebox.
He pushed aside the documents, and opened the shoebox. Within, there were three objects, each wrapped in bubble wrap: a small triceratops skull, a small human skull, and a broken piece of what appeared to Eqyptian pottery.
While delighted with the pieces, the odd collection had also started the wheels of his mind turning.
And that, ultimately, was the goal: it was the gift I was hoping to give. A gift of wonder.
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.”
― William Blake, Auguries of Innocence
I explained that I had created a page for each item that gave him some more information, along with links that he could check (with his parents) on the computer.
The first page was simply a hook - one that I hoped encouraged him to read and retain the other pages. It set the initial stage. I showed him the next page - the one about the triceratops.
On that page, it references the triceratops skull at the Smithsonian, and the fact that it was given its official name by a ten year old boy. (It's "Hatcher," btw.) I explained how the boy won an essay contest that the museum ran, and that was how he got to name the triceratops skull.
I told him that schools and museums, and even organizations like NASA, and LEGO (and more), work together on projects that are fun for students and help them to learn.
His mom, a teacher, noticed the page on ancient pottery, and mentioned the blurb about the importance and definition of cataloging with regard to archaeology.
The final page - the one with the picture of the telescope - also contained images that helped illustrate human evolution. It pondered where we would go from there, and specifically mentioned the stars.
One of the items that my godson had scored in the previous night's festivities was a small astronomy telescope. In the documents that I'd created and presented, one of the images I used matched the telescope quite well. The starting and ending pages made reference to knowing the past, the history of life and of humanity, and of how humans learned, in order to understand how to grow. The last information box on the final page said it this way:
Where are we going?
By studying the past through archaeology, and learning about the history of life as well as the way human beings lived and learned, we can apply that knowledge toward life today, and use it to help us shape where our civilization is going. In the past, we looked to the stars to help us determine the seasons. Now, we look to the stars to see where they may lead.
I told him how, when I was in school, I'd participated in a couple programs sponsored by NASA and the National Science Teachers Association, and told him of the certificates of recognition I'd received. Neither of my submissions were chosen to fly on the shuttle, but the certificates were something I was very proud of nonetheless. They showed that I'd at least participated.
He listened, and looked over his gift for a moment, after saying thank you and gifting me in return with a hug. Then, more to himself than to those of us with him, he solemnly intoned "There's a lot of science in this house. A lot of science."
I grinned. That immediately became my happiest moment and favorite quote of the season.
I felt that I'd successfully fed the spark of curiosity and wonder that was already lit within my godson, and I'm looking forward to the future - and to opportunities to help further stoke the flame.
That's my idea of gift giving, and what makes a gift valuable to both the giver and the receiver.
Thanks for reading. Please feel free to share your thoughts, and what gifts of wonder you've given (or received) in comments. What were your favorites, and your most successful?
Thank you. Namaste.