LitLife Blog

Kolmanskop, Namibia was settled during the diamond rush in 1908. In a few years, a bustling town with a casino, school, hospital and a theater, sprang up. In the 1950s, the diamond fever in the area slowed down and, abandoned, Kolmanskop became a ghost town. The desert dunes swept back into the buildings, including the school.

Photographs from the town show sand holding open doors in old houses, and dunes covering what were once gardens. Old bathtubs and wagon wheels rest on the sand. The town seems to show in real time how something becomes a relic, treasured by archaeologists.

Where it is: Kolmanskop is open to tourists. It is located in southern Namibia.

Bring it to the classroom: Use pictures of Kolmanskop while talking about archaeology. Discuss the magic of uncovering something from the past. Since your archaeologists can’t set off across the ocean quite yet, make a time capsule from your classroom. Or have your students write a letter to themselves, address it, and then seal it up. You (or their parents) will mail it to them in one, five, or even ten years.

Your own learning life: Kolmanskop shows what happens when humans abandon an area. Alan Weisman’s book The World Without Us asks what happens when humans abandon a planet. In the book, Weisman describes how nature would take over our houses, bridges, even cities if humans were to suddenly disappear. In this timely book about how humans affect our environment, Weisman asks, “Is it possible that, instead of heaving a huge biological sigh of relief, the world without us would miss us?”

The Museum of Jurassic technology is unlike any other museum. For one thing, it resides behind a small shop front on a busy street in downtown Los Angeles. On entering, you walk through a catacomb of dark rooms, each highlighting an exhibit stranger than the last.

The collection has exhibits on topics including: the ability of bats to fly through concrete walls, a theory of memory inspired by an amnesiac opera singer, a fruit pit carved with an elaborate scene, a stink ant from Cameroon, and the dogs of the Soviet Space Program. Every exhibit has a different approach for viewing. There are microminiature sculptures the size of a hair that you can only see with a magnifying glass. There is a hall of “Floral Stereoradiographs” which you view with 3D glasses so they seem to hover, filling the hallway.

As you walk through the halls, you think, this has to be fake, some kind of a joke. But curator David Wilson is absolutely serious in his mission—making us wonder at the world around us.

Where it is: The MJT is located in Culver City, California. You can also find it online at http://www.mjt.org.

Bring it to the classroom: Even if you’re across the country, you can bring the magic of the Museum of Jurassic Technology to your class. Share images from some of the exhibits, and begin a discussion about how what we think of as “real” has changed over the years. Older students might enjoy a documentary about the MJT, available from its website. Also, check out Pulitzer Prize finalist Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet of Wonders by Lawrence Weschler, about the MJT and its mysterious history.

Two weeks ago I set out to drive my son to soccer practice and I discovered one of my headlights was out.
I decided to stop by my mechanic to see if they could squeeze me in for a quick lamp change. My teenager was in the car, my cranky dog was in the car, and I am sure it wasn’t a convenient time for the shop.  But Chase took us in right away, driving the car into the bay and letting the dog into the waiting area. He happily set out to change the bulb, put the seat back in its proper position and handed me the keys.
I asked him what I owed him.
“Nothing,” he said nonchalantly.
I reached for my purse and he brushed the thought away with a gesture of his hand.  “No worries,” he said.
Now this was ten days after Barack Obama was elected.  The stock market was still a roller coaster, more banks cried for help, and our Congress was mulling over whether to bail out the auto industry.  All those around me were joyous and hopeful and frightened at exactly the same time.  Chase could have easily charged me for the bulb, his time, and the inconvenience of my arriving as the shop closed.  But he didn’t.  I prefer to think he considered the fact that I have been bringing my Subaru to him for service since my son was in kindergarten.  I prefer to think he knew his kindness would be paid in full and even if it wasn’t, he was doing a good thing.  Helping another person in a time of need.   Rather than look at this as an opportunity to cover even the smallest of expenses, he chose to reach out a helping hand.

Today, my Subaru went into convulsions in my driveway.  On the way to see Chase, it had a full blown seizure.  With 115,00 miles on the speedometer I knew I was in for bad news.  But Chase met me with a smile, took my keys and promised he would call.  And he did, with the news that oil was leaking in the engine, but that he could fix it, and it would be ready by the time I got home.  I wrote a check for $798 and drove away.  Chase’s prior kindness was paid in full.  And then some.

Two weeks ago Chase didn’t have to help me.  All around him were harbingers of doom.  Everyone was spouting fear and worry.  Even those not immediately affected by the changing economy withdrew their purchase power.  No more charitable contributions, no more lavish Christmas presents.  All the turtles pulled their heads in their shells and waited for the bombs to fall.  Chase chose to see the world as hopeful, his cup half full.  I continue to be touched by that moment, and it reminds me that our job as consultants is clearer than it has ever been.

We need to see the sunny side.  We need to be hopeful.  To see the possibilities for change that a new administration and a new Secretary of Education may bring.  We need to take our heads out of our shells and move forward in hopeful ways. We need to lobby for what we believe in.  We need to stand firm, despite the anxieties all around us, and fight for what never changes – the right to an equitable, respectful education for all children.  So look on the sunny side, folks.  I’ll be right next to you.