I've been writing blog posts about the Space Center since the year 2000. That's 26 years of storytelling. Why do I do it? I practice what we teach at the Space Center, and I teach our staff and volunteers through storytelling. It is the oldest form of instruction.
The following couple of stories were taken from the Space Center's oldest blog, The SpaceEdVentures Yahoo Group, circa 2006. As you read, examine the purpose of each story in relation to the lessons to be learned. Notice the following:
Humanizing Leadership:
Humanizing Leadership:
I use the "sink" incident to define my (and Mr. Porter's) philosophy on leadership: "You don't ask your staff to do something you aren't willing to do yourself." I am documenting the "lead by example" approach for the staff and parents.
Cultural Documentation:
Cultural Documentation:
The Space Center is a unique subculture where adults and children play-act high-stakes sci-fi scenarios. These stories preserve the "legend" of the center, such as the Iraq veteran's visceral reaction to a simulated attack.
Celebrating the Absurd:
Celebrating the Absurd:
The post highlights the humor and unpredictability of working with children at the Space Center, which makes our work unique in the world. It frames the "gross" or "stressful" parts of the job (vomit and equipment damage) as "gems of memory" rather than mere nuisances.
Transparency for Parents:
Transparency for Parents:
By discussing how I handled a sick child and safety violations, I reassure parents that the Space Center's staff is attentive, compassionate, and maintains a sense of humor even when things go wrong.
September 23, 2006: Sam Was Amazed
Mr. Daymont recently shared a story from a Magellan mission that I won’t soon forget. The crew was a mixed group of adults and children, including one gentleman who had recently returned from a tour of duty in Iraq.
Midway through the simulation, as the staff launched a coordinated "boarding party" to take the bridge, something triggered an unexpected instinct in our veteran crew member. Before Mr. Daymont could react, he saw the man bolt from his seat, leap onto the Magellan’s brand-new desktops, and parkour from station to station across the room. He was bounding toward the hatch the staff was using for the ambush, phaser drawn and ready to neutralize the "enemy" threat.
Recognizing a safety crisis in the making, Mr. Daymont hit the emergency stop. The mission was paused, the situation was de-escalated, and a brief lecture was delivered on safety and respect for Space Center property. Once the mission resumed and eventually concluded, Mr. Daymont pulled Sam—the Magellan’s Bridge Supervisor—aside for a debrief.
"Did you see him?" Daymont asked. "Yes," Sam replied. "Why didn't you stop him?"
Mr. Daymont recently shared a story from a Magellan mission that I won’t soon forget. The crew was a mixed group of adults and children, including one gentleman who had recently returned from a tour of duty in Iraq.
Midway through the simulation, as the staff launched a coordinated "boarding party" to take the bridge, something triggered an unexpected instinct in our veteran crew member. Before Mr. Daymont could react, he saw the man bolt from his seat, leap onto the Magellan’s brand-new desktops, and parkour from station to station across the room. He was bounding toward the hatch the staff was using for the ambush, phaser drawn and ready to neutralize the "enemy" threat.
Recognizing a safety crisis in the making, Mr. Daymont hit the emergency stop. The mission was paused, the situation was de-escalated, and a brief lecture was delivered on safety and respect for Space Center property. Once the mission resumed and eventually concluded, Mr. Daymont pulled Sam—the Magellan’s Bridge Supervisor—aside for a debrief.
"Did you see him?" Daymont asked. "Yes," Sam replied. "Why didn't you stop him?"
Sam looked at him with wide eyes. "I was amazed," he admitted. "I was just... amazed."
I couldn't help but chuckle at that. Any supervisor who can appreciate the pure, unscripted theater of a moment like that—even while the equipment is at risk—is back in my good graces.
July 23, 2006: What’s In The Sink!?
Just when you think you’ve witnessed every possible anomaly at the Center, something happens that reminds you why this job is never boring.
Thursday’s Overnight Camp was in full swing. Forty-three campers were being marched from the gym toward their respective simulators. I stayed behind to kill the lights—doing my part for the district’s power conservation mandate during this record-breaking Utah heat. As I moved up the hall, I passed the Galileo crew, then the Odyssey. Near the junction, I spotted Mr. Daymont and his "Magellanites."
They were an energetic group, but as I reviewed the line, I noticed one ten-year-old boy hunkered down on the floor, head in his hands.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
Just when you think you’ve witnessed every possible anomaly at the Center, something happens that reminds you why this job is never boring.
Thursday’s Overnight Camp was in full swing. Forty-three campers were being marched from the gym toward their respective simulators. I stayed behind to kill the lights—doing my part for the district’s power conservation mandate during this record-breaking Utah heat. As I moved up the hall, I passed the Galileo crew, then the Odyssey. Near the junction, I spotted Mr. Daymont and his "Magellanites."
They were an energetic group, but as I reviewed the line, I noticed one ten-year-old boy hunkered down on the floor, head in his hands.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I'm weak. I think it's hunger," the boy responded in remarkably formal English.
There was something in his stoic expression that told me our paths would cross again before the 10:00 A.M. dismissal the next morning. My intuition was spot on. While I was modeling a briefing for Kyle in the Discovery room, Brent rushed in with a "stomach eruption" update. Our young friend had suffered a biological malfunction.
"Where is the... evidence?" I asked.
There was something in his stoic expression that told me our paths would cross again before the 10:00 A.M. dismissal the next morning. My intuition was spot on. While I was modeling a briefing for Kyle in the Discovery room, Brent rushed in with a "stomach eruption" update. Our young friend had suffered a biological malfunction.
"Where is the... evidence?" I asked.
"In the bathroom," Brent replied. "He made it to the sink, but it’s pretty disgusting."
I decided then and there to handle it myself. A leader should lead by example; the staff needs to see that the Director isn't above "mucking in" when the situation turns messy. That is the definition of leadership: letting your troops know you aren't above the grit.
I armed myself with a bucket, paper towels, and a bottle of Liquid 409—my personal favorite for tactical cleaning. Like a knight venturing into a dragon’s lair, I entered the bathroom rubber-gloved and ready for combat. The "slaying" went faster than anticipated. I didn't gag once, leaving the sink spotless and smelling of citrus.
"You cleaned it yourself?" Brent asked as I emerged with the bucket.
I decided then and there to handle it myself. A leader should lead by example; the staff needs to see that the Director isn't above "mucking in" when the situation turns messy. That is the definition of leadership: letting your troops know you aren't above the grit.
I armed myself with a bucket, paper towels, and a bottle of Liquid 409—my personal favorite for tactical cleaning. Like a knight venturing into a dragon’s lair, I entered the bathroom rubber-gloved and ready for combat. The "slaying" went faster than anticipated. I didn't gag once, leaving the sink spotless and smelling of citrus.
"You cleaned it yourself?" Brent asked as I emerged with the bucket.
"You don't ask your staff to do something you aren't willing to do yourself," I said, pleased to have delivered a practical object lesson. Afterward, I sat the boy down at my desk to call home. He was already looking better, the color returning to his face, though he was so small that only his upper chest was visible above the desktop.
"You're feeling better then?" I asked.
"You're feeling better then?" I asked.
"Yes, thank you," he answered politely.
"Is this the only time you’ve been ill today?" I pushed, wondering if we were dealing with a virus.
The boy took a breath, meeting my eyes with total sincerity. "You see, it is my dad's fault."
The boy took a breath, meeting my eyes with total sincerity. "You see, it is my dad's fault."
I sat back, intrigued. "What do you mean, your dad's fault?"
"He cooked supper," he stated, as if explaining a law of physics. "I throw up every time he cooks."
I broke out into a roar of laughter. "Are you sure it wasn't just the Top Ramen?" I asked, trying to defend the father’s honor.
"He cooked supper," he stated, as if explaining a law of physics. "I throw up every time he cooks."
I broke out into a roar of laughter. "Are you sure it wasn't just the Top Ramen?" I asked, trying to defend the father’s honor.
"No, it's his cooking," he corrected me. "My mom cooks Top Ramen, and I don't throw up. I only throw up when my dad cooks. It doesn't matter what it is—I throw up. He is a bad cook."
I sent the "survivor" back to his ship, still laughing. We met again on Friday morning at breakfast. As I was about to dismiss the crews, another boy approached me, cupping his hands to his mouth.
"I've had an accident," he muffled. "I caught all of it in my hands."
As I directed him to the restroom, I noticed a pink puddle on the floor, suggesting his "catch" hadn't been 100% successful. Standing right next to the new accident was my friend from the night before. He looked at the puddle, then up at me with a wide smile.
"It wasn't me this time," he reassured me.
I sent the "survivor" back to his ship, still laughing. We met again on Friday morning at breakfast. As I was about to dismiss the crews, another boy approached me, cupping his hands to his mouth.
"I've had an accident," he muffled. "I caught all of it in my hands."
As I directed him to the restroom, I noticed a pink puddle on the floor, suggesting his "catch" hadn't been 100% successful. Standing right next to the new accident was my friend from the night before. He looked at the puddle, then up at me with a wide smile.
"It wasn't me this time," he reassured me.
"I know," I said. "Are you sure your dad isn't in the back cooking our breakfast?"
We both shared a final laugh before I went to find the mop.
We both shared a final laugh before I went to find the mop.
From the Space Center's Archives
What are we doing at the Space Center during Spring Break? We're Working for You!
April 12, 2009
Hello Troops,
It’s Spring Break! I’m writing to you from the very heart of the Christa McAuliffe Space Education Center - my desk. I’m not the only one working during the vacation. With me out here in space are.
Alex Anderson.
He is working on a video. He has a new program for star effects. All of us give him a double thumbs-up for his discovery and the go-ahead to begin recording and using it on the ships.
Jon Parker and Spencer Robinson.
Jon and Spencer are working on the Odyssey refit. The Odyssey arrived at Space Dock on Monday. The old girl was desperate for a little TLC. She’s been stripped down to her supports, and new desks are being installed. New bunk coverings are going in as well. It's not a major re- architecture, but enough work is being done to give the ship a breath of new life.
Dave Daymont
Arriving at the crack of noon is Mr. Dave Daymont. He is working in the Discovery Room on Phoenix’s new summer story. It has the Borg! Yes, I’m feeling all of you shudder with excitement. Another Space Center story with the Borg.
Stacy Carroll
Stacy is in the Animation Studio working on computer graphics for the Galileo. She will transition from the old Galileo to the new one sometime this summer. The new Galileo will need new material, and she is working hard to create it.
April 12, 2009
Hello Troops,
It’s Spring Break! I’m writing to you from the very heart of the Christa McAuliffe Space Education Center - my desk. I’m not the only one working during the vacation. With me out here in space are.
Alex Anderson.
He is working on a video. He has a new program for star effects. All of us give him a double thumbs-up for his discovery and the go-ahead to begin recording and using it on the ships.
Jon Parker and Spencer Robinson.
Jon and Spencer are working on the Odyssey refit. The Odyssey arrived at Space Dock on Monday. The old girl was desperate for a little TLC. She’s been stripped down to her supports, and new desks are being installed. New bunk coverings are going in as well. It's not a major re- architecture, but enough work is being done to give the ship a breath of new life.
Dave Daymont
Arriving at the crack of noon is Mr. Dave Daymont. He is working in the Discovery Room on Phoenix’s new summer story. It has the Borg! Yes, I’m feeling all of you shudder with excitement. Another Space Center story with the Borg.
Stacy Carroll
Stacy is in the Animation Studio working on computer graphics for the Galileo. She will transition from the old Galileo to the new one sometime this summer. The new Galileo will need new material, and she is working hard to create it.
Emily Perry
Emily is on her computer working on the tactical screens for her new summer story, “Plague” and “The Lost Throne.” Imagine that, 2 stories from the Odyssey.
Emily is on her computer working on the tactical screens for her new summer story, “Plague” and “The Lost Throne.” Imagine that, 2 stories from the Odyssey.
There you have it. While all of you enjoy days of carefree fun and frolic, know that your Space Center friends are hard at work creating new and exciting EdVentures for your summer. I’ll keep you posted on developments.
And now, I need to beam up to the mother ship to have my human mask refitted. It was wrinkling in the warm weather we experienced over the last couple of days. (Emily taught me how to use the camera on my Mac. I'm having too much fun)
Mr. Williamson
Mr. Williamson
Imaginairum Theater
The Week's Best Videos From Around the World, Edited for a Gentler Audience
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