Mandy the Shetland Pony and Stan the T-Rex are the true
celebrities of Oxford University Museum of Natural History. They feature
in any number of museum selfies. On one
memorable afternoon, I saw Mandy the centre of attention to a wide range of
visitors. Her mane was restyled, her
tail braided; I saw her hugged, patted and her eyes adoringly gazed into. Since then one young visitor has offered me
all his pocket money to buy her. I
politely declined the generous offer. At the other end of the room I often witness
Stan experiencing admiring best buddies poses, “air” toothbrushing and the classic “look he’s after me!” pose.
But it is not the familiar, but rather the unusual and
unexpected which create off-balance moments when people show how they really
feel and are completely open to learning something new. Object handling is a wonderful way for people
to really engage with what a museum is about and make the most of exploring something
really closely as they develop their understanding. Generally, this is enormously enjoyable
too. We turned that expectation on its
head this half term sharing some of nature’s more beastly secrets with the
public.
The experience built a real rapport between mediators of
the object and the audience around them who shared in the experience both
personally by direct touch, smell and sight of the object but also and by
observing the reaction and our response as educators to it. The whiff of Badger for example created a
particularly extreme response much to the amusement and heightened caution of
those who were waiting to get closer . . . some wonderful yucky expressions
were observed! Especially from a young child who took a real deep inhale next
to the badger and just about went cross-eyed!
All the specimens chosen for this half term object
handling were beastly creatures chosen for their repulsive lifestyles or
features. The important thing was to
get across that what might seem grotesque or grisly to us made them perfectly
adapted for the environments in which they live. So the badger uses its stink to mark its way
around underground.
The adaptation clue threw a spanner in the works though,
as our badger is a bit special, being albino.
I asked our visitors reasons why he might be that colour. Several said, reasonably enough, this was
because he was an arctic animal and camouflaged for that environment. It was great to encourage that kind of
thinking, but also to open minds to the idea that sometimes there maybe other
reasons for the colouring and other clues that help us to identify a type of
animal and where it lives: such as claws perfectly designed for digging and a
memorable whiff for way-marking routes underground. I was able to share with
them how an arctic animal is different to an albino animal in that the albino
has no iris eye colour which accounts for the pink eyes.
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| Albino badger |
One child was very definitely ONLY interested in
Dinosaurs, so I showed him the coprolite
– without letting him in on what it was beyond being connected with dinosaurs . . . from the clues
I gave he figured out it was a dinosaur poo – “But why on earth would anyone
want to polish a poo!?” He was disgusted and appalled!
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| Dinosaur coprolite |
I love a strong reaction.
These open the way for a really engaged discussion. We talked about what we could learn about
what a dinosaur had for his dinner from a coprolite and why some scientists are
really interested in that. He made a
close inspection with his magnifying glass and pronounced it to be a herbivore.
Not only was he correct, but I also persuaded him that other disgusting animals
were useful too – dung beetles might not be as big as a T-Rex, but so important
for the planet and he had some great reasoning as to why.
Several children thought the rabbit was adorable and
enjoyed stroking her so I became hesitant to tell them the rabbit’s revolting
secret. But children can’t resist a
secret can they? “Tell us!!” So I did –
the rabbit is a coprophage – it eats its’ own poo! The affectionate children pause in stroking
the bunny or pull their hand away momentarily.
But why would it do that?
We get past the revulsion and talk about the good
scientific reasons for disgusting behaviour in nature. As we talk about how this helps the rabbit to
get nutrition quickly and in a way that means it can stay small and fast. A cow eats grass too – but it breaks it down
by having multiple stomachs to process the nutrients out of the grass – the
rabbit’s solution is to put it through the same stomach twice.
Not everyone is disgusted by the same things. A nine year old child is completely focused on the tray of beetles and as we
discuss the dung beetle’s diet and the fact he is looking at their skeletons he
looks up with delight where others would
be repulsed. “Its an Exoskeleton!” he volunteers. And there is no hint of revulsion at all just
purest fascination. “That’s great – how
do you know?” I ask him – “Oh we did that when we visited last week,” he tells
me, airily. “Did you come with your
school?” “Yes” he says, patiently. Its
important to respect scientific enquiry at any age so my brain starts whirring
with how to develop his interest.
Last week, eh? I sat in on one of those lessons and
watched Chris Jarvis do a double-act with a human skeleton, ably supported by
other skeletons in the crew in order to teach children from real examples. I know it is reasonable to expect this child
will very probably know the answer to my next question – and one which is
directly relevant to the next specimen: a rabbit. If he doesn’t, we can figure it out
together.
“What kind of skeleton does this rabbit have?” “Oh . . . I know this . . . an . . . Endoskeleton!” Big smile.
I can see he feels really proud to recall this. “Perfect answer! Well done - that’s pretty
impressive but what kind of skeleton does this Octopus have?”
I know I am pushing it, and he’s frowning because its not
easy to remember hydrostatic skeleton, but he hears someone close by murmur
“They don’t have skeletons . . . do they?”
and that’s when triumphant he says “They have the squishy bag
kind!” Perfect! “That’s right or the fancy word is
“Hydrostatic skeleton”. Little murmurs
behind show that everyone is really impressed.
And once we agree he is a scientist with excellent recall he is ready to
learn more – such as why the rabbit is revolting and how the Octopus is a jet
propelled predator. Our exchange is being observed by several other children
and it encourages them to ask their own questions too.
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| Octopus |
Letting people set their own agenda for learning through
unique experiences is what makes museum so unique. These are experiences that they would never
encounter outside a museum. That’s the key to why I am here on the Skills for
the Future traineeship too – because once you get a taste for museum learning
you crave more. I don’t know about you,
but I’m hooked.
