Sometimes I teach the Aviation merit badge to the Boy Scouts in our troop, and sometimes at district merit badge days. One of the tools of instruction I employ is my desktop computer, with Aces High loaded on it. That’s right, I completely un-hook it from my “war room” and lug it to the classroom where I am to teach the merit badge course. I also bring along one of my plastic models, usually the old P47 “Razor Back” that I put together when I was a boy (I’m over 50, now). After about a 2 ½ hour lecture they get a chance to “fly” online. For some of the 11-to-18 year olds this is not new; they’re pretty savvy online gamers in their own right. But for most of my kids, this is their first experience doing anything on a computer outside of playing Solitaire, and the experience of flying a war bird against live folks in real time just breaks out th grins like a bad case of the Hives. It’s wonderful to watch them. Of course the first thing they want to do is kill people and bomb things, so I have to reign ‘em in and tell ‘em that’s for when they get their own setup, and that it’s beyond the scope of this course.
At the last merit badge day, as I was unplugging my equipment and boxing things up after a really good class, several of the boys were rearranging the chairs and tables. One kid stacked the chairs a little too high, and a little too close to the table on which sat my mini tower computer and P47. Well, the chairs, unnoticed by anyone in the room, began to tilt, and finally fell, towards the table. The top-most chair hit the table, causing my computer to fall over…onto my P47…on its way over the side of the table…onto the floor with a tremendous BANG. The Jug exploded into an uncountable number of plastic shards and otherwise tiny plastic pieces. Time seemed to stand still. We watched in helpless horror for what seemed like an eternity, during which time we were unable to even move. Here’s the really surprising part: My heart was in my throat as I was concerned for the condition of the computer, then my airplane, for about 1-2 seconds as thoughts of what my wife would say to me, or how stupid I was for bringing my own stuff in the first place, or how stupid the kid was for causing such a thing to happen…until I saw his face. Talk about heart wrenching. I could see plainly that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his life was over, and deservedly so in his own mind. Never have I seen such remorse. My heart went out to him, immediately. Forgotten was the computer, the airplane. After I made a cursory examination to determine the computer was OK, just a warped case, I walked over to where he stood. I really felt sorry for him. I tried to assure him that I wasn’t angry with him, and that accidents do happen, etc….
Meanwhile my teaching assistant is going ape#%& over the whole thing, so I had to calm him down. The computer really is OK, just needs a new case. Losing the ol’ Jug is sad, but the relief on that young boy’s face after I spoke to him far out weighs any sentimental value of one old plastic airplane. Lesson learned.
