I really can’t stand science fairs. I know I’m not alone in this sentiment. I’ve yet to meet a parent who actually enjoys them — or the individual who conceived the idea in the first place.
My disdain primarily stems from the fact that I often find myself taking on these projects myself. Before anyone shouts at me, let me clarify: most of us end up doing our kids’ frustrating science fair projects. It’s just as much a rite of passage for parents as changing diapers or threatening to wash their mouths out with soap.
And frankly, we brought this on ourselves. Back when we were just starting out, we would complain so much that our parents would eventually give in and help us with our own projects. We thought we were clever, but little did we know that in a few decades, we would be the weary parents, coaxing a bean sprout through a maze while our unengaged kids lounge nearby, smearing Cheeto dust in their hair.
One year, a science teacher sent home a letter outlining the virtues of science fairs in bullet points. One of the supposed benefits, according to this optimistic soul, was that it could foster bonding between parents and children while exploring the wonders of the physical world. I think most parents would prefer to strengthen their relationships over a family movie night or a trip to Yosemite rather than through a high-pressure school project lacking real academic merit. Just a thought.
I feel sorry for myself every time the science fair rolls around. I dread the stress, the arguments, and the daunting task of crafting my own thermos for a project on insulation. And I definitely don’t want to spend a small fortune to participate in this exhausting middle school tradition.
I shouldn’t complain too much. We are fortunate enough to afford the costs associated with this questionable educational exercise. But what about families with limited resources?
Some argue that there are many project ideas that won’t require a second mortgage. However, this argument has flaws: 1.) Students need projects that spark their curiosity, allow them to compete with the best, and impress the judges. What if the low-budget options don’t meet these needs? 2.) Regardless of the project, that presentation board is going to be an expense.
If a child wants their display board to stand out, they first need to have a display board. Estimates suggest that a typical 36”x48” board costs between $6 and $14 — though that $6 option might be too good to be true. You could buy a 25-pack for about $80 (and store the extras for future science fairs!), but a single board might end up costing closer to $20. We can all agree that $6 is pricey, and $20 feels like robbery.
No child will get away with simply pasting their results on a standard letter-sized sheet of paper; a bare-bones presentation would surely signal a lack of effort to the judges. Remember, the culmination of the science fair is the actual event, and that tri-fold board will be showcased under bright lights in front of an audience filled with parents who can afford the best. If a young scientist were to invent a time machine, no one would know because they skimped on their flimsy presentation. Does any child want to finish last in the academic equivalent of a beauty pageant?
The experts suggest investing in two-sided tape (~$3), photo paper (~$8), and some neon cardstock (~$4) to make those pie charts pop. But tradition demands that students go above and beyond, creating impressive multi-level boards with perfectly cut headers. Scissors won’t suffice, so we’re looking at either purchasing paper cutters (~$34) or T-bars (~$6) and Exact-o knives (~$7). Add in some die-cut shapes (or invest in a $229 Cricut!) and some flashy decorations (perhaps Christmas lights or rhinestones!), and those boards will be ready to impress.
Sure, none of this is strictly necessary, but we veteran parents know exactly what is expected. By the time that elaborate board makes it to the gym floor, its cost is nothing short of outrageous. And remember, we’re only discussing the presentation board.
Let’s face it: science fairs cater to wealthier kids, and research supports this claim. A study from the University of Toronto found that science fairs tend to favor students from privileged, resource-rich backgrounds, and another study questioned whether all students had an equal chance in science fair competitions (spoiler: they didn’t). Honestly, we didn’t need scientific research to confirm this.
So what’s the solution? In my opinion, we have two options: 1.) Provide equal resources to all students (but what middle schooler wants to rummage through a communal cardboard box for a dried-up glue stick and subpar paper punches?); or 2.) Eliminate the science fair entirely.
Let’s do a favor for all families, regardless of their income. It’s time to put an end to the long-standing yet universally disliked science fair. Future generations of students who are unlikely to pursue science anyway (and their parents) will be grateful.
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