The Cowculator and the Problem Child

Printed in the Idaho State Journal on March 25, 2014.

What does a farmer use to add up his bulls? A Cowculator.  Brilliant.

A student told me that joke when I was coaching a middle school math club one fall.  I already had the cow suit, so I added a cape and Converse sneakers to complete my very own super hero costume.  I invented the Cowculator.

The Cowculator made her debut to welcome 100+ Mathletes to the annual Eastern Idaho MATHCOUNTS competition a few years ago. I feel silly and whimsical in a cow suit, but as soon as the cape completes the transformation, I am unstoppable. There is no problem too difficult or discouraging for the Cowculator.

Hours after my foray at the microphone, I had a poignant exchange with a lanky, freckle-faced Mathlete. He fit the checklist of stereotypes. He was jittery and nervous as he spoke, but he was propelled and disarmed by our mutual love of math. And by my costume, I have to think.  His white socks emphasized his faded high-water jeans and grubby sneakers. Those sneakers likely never did anything athletic. I imagine he only combed his hair when someone reminded him and since he boarded a bus in Malad at 5am, there was likely no one awake at his house to offer a reminder.

He zig-zagged through the tables during lunch when he spotted me. He waved and yelled, “I know you’re the Cowculator!”

I only wore the costume during my welcome address and I then changed into a geek sanctioned polo shirt and khakis while I coached my team. The outfit had entailed a tie-on hood with my full face and bangs visible. I’m sure everyone in the ballroom knew I was the not-yet-famous super hero, but I played along.

 “Oh? And how did you know that?”

With a goofy-toothed grin and pizza sauce on the corners of his mouth, he pointed to my feet. “Your shoes. “  My stars and stripes sneakers gave me away.

I winked at him and told him that he would make a great detective some day. 

“I know. I figure things out because I’m a problem child.”

A handful of students that day had buttons with the slogan “Problem Child” pinned to their back packs and jackets.  These kids think they are merely doing math, but they are learning how to solve problems. Answers may not come easily or quickly, but they come.  They may be elusive, but they exist.

The Cowculator didn’t help kids solve their problems that day, but she’s there to help empower them. She shows them that math and puzzles can be “udderly” fun and part of that is in the process. The challenge.  The work. The Cowculator doesn’t fear problems or work. Problems have solutions and when kids become their own personal problem solvers they don’t need a Cowculator. They become their own hero—with or without a cape.

The Day George W. Bush Spoke To Me

Printed in the Idaho State Journal on March 23, 2014.

The Pocatello Community Charter School sits on nearly five acres where Arthur Street becomes Bannock Highway. The school’s back yard hosts the city’s first permitted residential wind turbine. In the spring of 2009, I led that project which led to my being in the same room with George W. Bush a year later. Okay, okay, it wasn’t just a room, it was an entire arena at the Dallas Convention Center, but I was still in the presence of our 43^rd president.

The former dean of the charter school and I presented a poster at the 2010 national WINDPOWER conference. This annual event features everything wind power: turbine manufacturers, wind researchers, transmission authorities, legal experts, utility policy makers, and more.

Our little poster from Pocatello touted the school’s wind turbine as both an educational tool and energy source.  The size and location of this turbine yields, at most, enough power for a teacher’s mini fridge or a bank of fluorescent lights, but the greater value of the project came in the hands-on exposure for students. Seeing first-hand how the irritatingly windy days of late can produce energy is priceless.

Speaking of irritating winds, let me get back to the ex-politician who was the keynote speaker at the conference. To say that I am not a fan of “Dubbya” is an understatement. My disagreements with his politics run the gamut of education, social issues, and international relations, but he was my president and I was enthralled at the opportunity to see him. We don’t get these chances in Idaho that often.  I looked forward to the experience itself and what my reaction would be.

He began his talk with something like, “One morning, I looked in the mirror. I paused, and I couldn’t remember a day that I didn’t have a drink.” He was never an eloquent man.  I couldn’t tell if he said “drink” or “dream.”  I figured he said “dream” because that seemed more appropriate and likely, but as he opened the blinds for a view into his humanness, that opening remark became as clear as a snifter of sparkling water.

He mentioned his book that had just been released and then as any good keynote speaker, he lauded the conference focus.  President Bush cheered the progress of the wind power industry and voiced support for tax incentives for clean energy technologies. I liked what he was saying on the topic, but it was his humor that stuck with me when he discussed his first few days out of the White House and in his new home near Dallas.

He talked of getting to take his dog on a walk for the first time. He never had time as president to do that. I used to tell my childhood friends and teachers all the things I would do when I became the first woman president, but after hearing that there was no time for dog walking, I’m relieved I went into engineering rather than politics.

He talked of fumbling with the leash and figuring out which side his mutt preferred to walk on. He talked of noting where the secret service agents were and how they still surprised him at times.  Then he delved into what happened when the dog came to a halt and started “the sniff.”  George W. became slightly more human with every second he spoke.

He talked of the contrast of months before being in closed rooms with dozens of advisors making decisions with too many effects to fully estimate. And then not. He talked of the sun and the breeze and the stillness while he was rummaging through his pockets for a post-presidential plastic baggie and how everything was so crisp to him because it was so new.

The former president presented gestures to illustrate the leash fumbling, the baggie retrieval and his stance as he squatted down to collect the heap left by his furry friend.  He said clearly into the mic, “So there I was. The 43^rd President of the United States, holding in my hand that which I had spent the last 8 years trying to deflect.”  

After that day, every single time I make my loop around Holt Arena with my dogs and one of them begins “the sniff,” I think about George W. Bush. The day he spoke to me became one of contrasts and appreciation. He juxtaposed the decision room and the suburban sidewalk while my mind considered the President with whom I still disagree and the man with whom I would enjoy sharing a drink.  Sparkling water, of course.