Every summer I bring my daughters to one of the towns I grew up in so they can spend a few weeks seeing relatives and friends while I write. It's a great chance for us to see people and places that I grew up with in New Jersey and Pennsylvania since we live in MN the rest of the year.
We also go to the same stores that I used to go to when I was my daughters' ages. Last year, my daughters and I had a long discussion about the aisle signs in our go-to store for things we need.
I spent a lot of time thinking (and writing) about why these signs bothered me so much, and then sent the following note to the store:
> Hello. > > I have been visiting your ______ store my entire life. Now I bring my daughters there. > However, I am always disturbed by the "girl's toys" and "boy's toys" signs on the aisles. > As a woman engineer professor who works with educators and children it makes me incredibly frustrated to see the toys labeled by gender. > > Please consider changing the signs to something more descriptive of the toys themselves? > "sports" "building" "Arts and Crafts?" > > Sincerely, > AnnMarie Thomas
I was thrilled when I got this reply:
>Hi AnnMarie ,
> Your message has been received and understood . It might take some time but we will make >changes . The signs have been around for a while . I have to think on it because you have to put at >most 2 words which describes what is in the isle . The description needs to help customer locate what >they are looking for without asking store personnel . > Enjoy Your Summer
<name removed>
Tonight I walked into the store (with my daughters) for the first time in 13 months and saw this...
As much as I'd love to say that women in engineering and science don't face increased challenges when compared to men.... I'd be lying. It won't take long for you to google examples, but I'll make it easier for you by suggesting you look at the June 1 Careers column posted online by Science, or find an article on the public comments made earlier this month by a Nobel laureate at a luncheon honoring women, about the problems with having girls in a lab. Happily, in both of these cases, the reaction was swift, vocal, and fairly unanimous in condemning these statements.
As a mother of daughters, engineer, and educator I try not to overemphasize the negatives. I see my role as showing my daughters and students how to forge their own path, and hopefully do so with kindness, humility, and an effort to support others on their own paths. (I've written before about my experiences as a female engineer/engineering professor/mom.)
Recently I found myself thinking about this while at a playground. My daughters and I love to wear dresses, and we also love adventure. Thus as I watched my four year old scrambling up a climbing wall in a bright dress and bare feet and found myself calling out to her "Don't step on your dress! It makes it harder to climb." At the time I meant it literally, but as I watched her happily scaling to greater heights, I realized the symbolic meaning of that phrase and discussed it with both of my daughters on the drive home from the park. The three of us decided that "Don't step on your own dress or on other people's dresses" is a good way to sum up many of the literal and metaphorical obstacles that we face in our lives. The thing is, stepping on someone's dress helps no one. You're most likely to end up causing you both to fall.
Giving in to self doubt and failing to try new things because of a fear of not succeeding? You're stepping on your own dress.
Being overly critical of yourself and convincing yourself that you aren't good enough, or don't belong? You're stepping on your own dress.
Being mean to another child in your class and telling her she's not good at something? You're stepping on their dress.
Not speaking up when you see another woman being put down or not being supported? Stepping on their dress.
For that matter, let's stop stepping on anyone's dress, cape, or apron. Instead, let's help each other climb the walls we choose to climb, regardless of what we're wearing*.
*or not wearing... kiddo claims it's easier to climb barefoot!
To celebrate National Women in Engineering Day, Make magazine launched a week of profiles on women makers . I'm really enjoying reading them. (Here are the ones posted so far: Lenore Edman, Jeri Ellsworth, Erin Kennedy, Caroly Reiley-Ng. All four of these women are amazing, and I encourage you to temporarily stop reading this post, and read these profiles. And then keep reading the ones that get posted later this week.)
This comes on the heels of the White House Maker Faire, which my daughter and I were delighted to attend and present at. I was ecstatic to see my six year old in the White House teaching adults about circuits. She met amazing role models, both women and men, and had an amazing day seeing the incredible things that people had made and were passionate about.
Then today, six days after my 6 year old daughter was in the White House explaining current flow to people double her height, I took my two daughters to a local store and saw this:
And... I've had it. What are girl's toys? Doesn't that just mean "a toy that a girl plays with?" What if my daughters want something from the "boy's toys" aisle? What if a boy wants a pink toy, or a craft kit? It was the final straw to a lot of things that have been on my mind lately.
Given that we spend so much time talking about how to get girls interested in STEM, I also think we women in STEM should share the moments that made us doubt our paths.As a female engineering professor, I'm used to being the only woman in the room (or one of a small number of women.) Heck, I was the only woman Ocean Engineering major my year at MIT. In my 9 years of engineering undergraduate and graduate work, I only had one female professor. She was amazing, and she taught Music Theory. I have never had a female STEM professor, or worked in a lab run by a woman. <11/20/14 correction> I never had a female STEM professor at MIT, or worked in a lab run by a woman. At Caltech, two semesters of my Controls lecture were taught by a female postdoc. (11/20/14: I don't know how I overlooked that when I first wrote this piece. I apologize! Interestingly, she was a post-doc, not a professor As I look at that department's faculty list, I see no women currently there and at the time this postdoc taught my class I do not believe there were any female CDS profs.) I am incredibly fortunate to have had wonderful male mentors (I wrote about that here), and it worked for me.
But... now I'm a mother to two daughters. As a six year old interested in everything, my daughter Sage is used to being the only girl in class when she signs up for engineering events and camps (see reflections here and here). This fall she looked at my student rosters for the engineering classes that I was teaching and asked me what I was doing wrong. Confused, I asked her what she meant. It turns out that she noticed that I only had about three female students in each of my 30+ student classes and assumed this was my fault. She definitely notices when she's the only girl in a weeklong engineering camp and I'm really happy that she thinks there's something odd about that (and doesn't think that she's the one doing something wrong.)
Sage and I were interviewed by Make: for a blog post that went up the day of the White House Maker Faire. They asked if we had anything we wanted to say, and Sage said that she wanted them to write that "Girls can do engineering if they believe in themselves and try." Some people have pointed out that they didn't love this statement but I don't really want to get into that here. I'm proud of her and she's speaking from her heart and her experience. It's 2014 and I still know engineering students at the college level who have been told that girls don't belong in engineering.
I am known as a (usually) high energy, upbeat, quirky engineering professor. I don't like to dwell on negative things, particularly in front of my students. However, I'm also realizing (maybe too slowly) that I need to be vocal about the bumps in the road. This January, I was invited to speak to graduate students at Stanford about my career and balancing work and life. Writing that talk made me do some serious assessment of the choices I've made. I gave the bluntest talk of my life. I talked about missing my daughter's ballet recital, and almost dropping out of graduate school because I was convinced I didn't belong there. I talked about attending meetings with an infant tied to me in a sling, and about OCD. I talked about the fact that I was never a straight A student at any point in my life, and that to get where I did I drank a lot of coffee and spent a lot of late nights in labs and libraries. I talked about the amazing people that I've gotten to work with, and who are my mentors, and how incredibly happy I am with how things have worked out so far. But I also said that we have to remember that in academia, and in life, we can't spend time comparing ourselves to what we think other people are. On my CV, people see my paper count, but not the rejection letters or late nights writing drafts with a baby under my desk. I told these stories so that when other women engineers find themselves missing important meetings because their child is sick they don't think that they are doing something wrong. We just don't put the missed meetings, rejected papers, or time spent crying/screaming/etc, on our resumes. Note: Don’t compare yourself to resumes. I've spent way too much time doing that, and it's painful and not very productive.
When I was in high school, I desperately wanted to be an actress or a painter. I ended up applying to engineering schools instead. (To me engineering is a fine art.) I was incredibly excited when I got into MIT. (To be honest, the acceptance came in a thin envelope. I assumed it was a rejection letter and tore it saying "This has been an awful day and now I'm getting rejected from college." I then decided to read the letter I tore. Turns out it was an acceptance letter.) I was also terrified. I figured I had to be the least qualified person that they had accepted. From the time I was accepted until the time I got on a plane to Boston, I read every piece of paper (this was before email) that MIT sent me, so many times that I probably had them all memorized. I was giddy.
Then, a few weeks before I left for MIT, I got an official looking envelope in the mail. Excitedly, I opened it, and read pages that said things along the lines of "MIT certainly lowers standards for women and 'underrepresented' minorities" The average woman at MIT is less intelligent and ambitious than the average man at MIT. The average 'underrepresented' minority at MIT is less intelligent and ambitious than the average non-'underrepresented' minority." It was sent by a student group at MIT. (I later learned that this was an illicit mailing, and that the group faced sanctions from MIT. Read about it here or here, or google it.) I was completely rocked by this letter. I spent the remaining days before my departure for college questioning whether I deserved to go. And then every time I got a less than stellar grade, I felt guilty because I felt that I was proving the Extropians' point- what if my grades proved that I didn't belong there. Why hadn't they accepted a smarter girl who wouldn't let down other women by proving that girls didn't belong at MIT? I worked as hard as I could in college, spending nearly every waking moment in class, doing homework, working research jobs (at times more than one concurrently) and going to proessor's office hours. The entire time I was terrified that I just wasn't good enough.
I had forgotten about the Extoprians' letter until this week, when I've found myself in a variety of conversations about women and engineering. Then I saw the toy aisles signs and realized that not even my engineering-loving oldest daughter commented on them. And I realized that it's these signs, and ones like them, that send a loud message to our children. Here's a great video that touches on this. Thanks to Christopher Davis @cradavis ,who pointed it out to me.
I found myself reflecting on times in my life where I found myself doubting my engineering path. I'm sharing them because I think it's sometimes too easy to forget that comments said in passing, or words put on a sign, can really impact those who hear/see them. Again, I am so grateful for the amazing people who supported me as a young, and then as a not-so-young, woman that was interested in engineering. However, I also realize that so many of the moments when I doubted myself stemmed from times when people thought they were helping me or giving me good advice.Here are the ones that stand out to me:
The teacher who, when hearing from a college counselor that I was applying to engineering schools said, "that's great. It's not like she's applying to MIT though." I was in the room when this happened and remember thinking intently "please don't tell him, please don't tell him." I had so hoped that I could keep my application to MIT a secret. I couldn't. And then I got in, and one of the "smart boys" didn't and, well, you can imagine how that went over with the other students. Apparently, the situation wasn't fair.
There was the visitor (prestigious and respected) to one of the labs I worked in who told me that clearly I was very smart, but that I "shouldn't %@*k it up by doing something dumb like smoking dope or getting pregnant." I remember that statement well, but not my reply. I think I was just flabergasted. Especially since I was the one running the dangerous equipment that seemed to make him nervous.
There was the mentor whose big piece of advice for me when I left for grad school at Caltech was that I should buy a fake engagement ring so that men would leave me alone and I could focus on my studies.
Then there was one of the first conferences I attended. I was the only woman in the room, and I wore my first black suit. I was excited to be there. Less so after someone I didn't know asked me to bring them coffee.
I could go on. My work in education has at times been criticized as proof that I'm not a serious engineer. (At one point someone who was describing my engineering outreach work, while I was a grad student, was told "Well she must not be a very good graduate student. If she was, she wouldn't be spending her time playing with third graders." I was crushed when the administrator friend passed on the comment to me, but I'm also thankful that they gave me a sense of who my non-allies were at the time.) Currently quite a few of my projects involve sewing, pattern design, and geometry, and I'm being warned that it's too girly. (Side note: How many of you can design your own patterns and then turn them into clothes? It's an amazing feat of 2D to 3D visualization and construction.)
After a while, this gets tiring. After a while you don't want to be the only girl in the room. When you're 12, or 6, or 20, sometimes you just want to enjoy doing things without the pressure of knowing that you are representing your gender. Often I speak at conferences and events where I am the only woman presenting. I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice, or that it didn't make me nervous, because what if I mess up and people try to paint this as because I'm female?
And then I saw the toy aisles labeled by gender. I'll leave it to you to imagine what toys are in the two aisles. Your guess is likely correct. We all have a job to do, which is to let all kids know that there aren't "boys' toys" and "girls' toys," just like there aren't "boys' careers" and "girls' careers."
For most of my career, I've stayed away from panels about being a woman in STEM. The real reason is because I never thought I deserved to be there. I never saw myself as a role model. Surely one of the smarter women should be doing it? I was terrfied that I'd give bad advice, or that by being a "not good enough engineer" on the panel I'd inadvertantly be showing the students that girls really couldn't do this field. Those days are over. I'm proud of the work I've done, I'm proud of the A's but also the Bs and Cs. I'm proud of the research, and the robots, and the papers. I'm proud that I have turned down conference speaking so that I can attend events at my kids' schools.
The "little things" like signs and passing comments aren't so little and it's all of our responsibility to do something about it. I wrote a letter to the store above asking them to consider redoing their signs such that they describe the toys themselves ("sports," "building," "arts and crafts") as opposed to who the store thinks they're for. I also don't plan on bringing my daughters there again until the signs are changed. I've also become a lot more vocal about what it feels like to be a women in engineering, and that my story is just that... "my story." I can't speak for all women engineers because we all have unique stories. What I can do, though, is share my story.
Positive update: I have received an email from the owner of the store whose signs are pictured in this post. They will be changing the signs (which are quite old). New wording to be determined. Hurrah!
Ever since my girls were old enough to ask to go to Maker Faire (about 3 years old), I set a rule: if you're going to travel with me to a faire, you need to do two things:
(1) Make (or help make) your clothes for the faire
(2) Present, volunteer, help at an exhibit, or participate in some other way
We've followed these criteria. Sage's first big Maker Faire was World Maker Faire in 2012, when she was four. She helped sew a dress, and built a Nerdy Derby car that she brought to NY from MN. (This car makes a cameo appearance in The Art of Tinkering, if you look veryclosely.)
In 2013, Sage was five, so we discussed the possibility of presenting at the faire. She was up for it, and volunteered to teach a workshop on Squishy Circuits. This year she also took the lead on making a jumper with pockets (for LEDs) and big wooden buttons.
About two weeks ago when Sage and I were invited to the 1st White House Maker Faire and run a Squishy Circuits table, and we jumped at the chance. Clearly, it was time to make a new dress! Sage had just finished kindergarten and had a free day to work on it, so we decided to be adventurous and make our own pattern, based on an older dress that she likes. She made some modification, traced, cut, pinned and sewed. (Since we used the serger, I "steered" and she worked the pedal.)
Unfortunately, we completely forgot about seam allowances and the first dress was too tight. Sage picked new fabric (very patriotic in stripes, white, blue and pink) and made a second version.
My oldest daughter, Sage, and I were incredibly honored to have been invited to the first White House Maker Faire, which was held as part of National Day of Making, on June 18. As one of the 30 exhibits, we were asked to create an interactive Squishy Circuits table inside of the White House. We didn't have a lot of time to prep for this trip, so I am incredibly grateful to the University of St. Thomas engineering students who pitched in and made dough, fixed circuits, and helped pack. In particular, thanks go out to Emma Koller, Lauren Van Beek, and David Siglin. Matthew Schmidtbauer, a former Squishy Circuits research student who now runs Squishy Circuits Store, kindly donated kits for us to bring. He also wrote a tutorial for a great new project: The Squishy Circuits' version of the US Flag! With our bags packed, we headed to the airport and to DC. (We also got to meet a lot of very lovely TSA and bomb squad folks, but that's a story for another day... In short, be careful when you fly with playdough and electronics.)
At the White House, we were thrilled to find that we had been given a spot below a portrait of President Lincoln. Sage did an amazing job of prepping our table. We were delighted to be able to use our University of St. Thomas tablecloth. (The University of St. Thomas was one of over 150 universities that signed a letter of support for increasing the opportunities for young people to make. I will write more about this later!)
Once the Maker Faire was opened, the day became a blur of circuit making! Sage and I got to teach visitors ranging from NASA engineers to children how to create Squishy Circuits.
Sage and I were also interviewed by Make magazine which ran a post about us. As many of you know, Sage is very surprised to often find herself as the only girl in engineering classes and workshops and decided that the White House Maker Faire was a good opportunity for her to speak out about this.
Partway through the day, we were brough to the room where President Obama gave his address about National Day of Making. It was amazing to be in a room full of so many people that I admire. His address stressed the importance of making in education, the economy, innovation, and other aspects of society. The full text of the speech can be found here.
All good things must come to an end, and Sage and I packed up and headed out after five hours of meeting incredible makers, teachers, politicians, and scientists. Sage was especially proud of the blue ribbon we were given to commemorate the day!
Thank you to the amazing White House staff, the Maker Media team and the Maker Faire team!
PS-Sage designed and sewed the dress she wore at the White House. Later, I'll write another post about her design.
Karen Wilkinson and Mike Petrich of the Exploratorium's Tinkering Studio have produced the most beautiful book on Makers and their work that I have ever seen. The Art of Tinkering is filled with stunning pictures, intriguing maker profiles, and well-written how-to instructions for a wide array of Maker projects. Turning through the pages of this book feels like looking through a Maker yearbook. If you are at all interested in the Maker Movement, design, art, or education, this book is one you must get!
I feel incredibly fortunate that, as part of the launch, they invited me to "hack" a copy of the book. I decided to do this as a mother/daughters project, so my five year old daughter, Sage, and three year old daughter, Grace, helped. I proposed making a "child" sized copy of the book (complete with conductive ink on the cover) and having it snap together with a "mother" book. Since she was working on making a Pippi Longstocking costume for Halloween, Sage proposed that she create bright red braids for both books. She and her sister had fun decorating the books and creating pages (pop ups!) for the mini-book. Both books use the conductive ink on the cover to allow their LED "hearts" to glow.
My favorite "hacked book," is the delightfully devoured one created by Moxie. Ever since seeing this video, and then seeing her work at the Exploratorium, I have been dreaming of a way for us to work together! (Note to curators: Looking for a playful engineer and an amazing felt artist to do an installation piece? Moxie and I would love to chat with you! Email me!) Here's her amazing hacked book:
Since some of you have caught mentions of this on Twitter, I guess it's time to make an "official" announcement:
I'm in the process of finishing up my first full length book. (A short school library book on "Squishy Circuits" is done, proofed, and should be coming out in a few months.) Tentatively, it looks like it will be out this fall. The title is "Making Makers," and it will be published my Maker Media. The amazing Brian Jepson is my stoic editor, who is helping calm my first time author jitters.
As you can probably guess, the book builds off of many talks and articles (here's 1) that I have given/written over the last three years looking at the childhoods of makers. I've interviewed over sixty adult makers about what they were like as kids. It's been an amazing experience, and I am incredibly grateful to everyone who shared their time and stories with me. Written from my vantage point as a mother, maker, and engineering professor, it's a look at the what some of the attributes/traits are that I believe make makers "Makers."
I'm going to be hunkered down writing/editing/finalizing for the next few weeks, but happily I also have some great trips coming up for teaching, presenting, leading workshops and consulting. It looks like I'll be in Los Angeles, Long Beach, San Francisco, New York, Denmark, Philadelphia, and Albuquerque over the next few months. If you're a maker or educator in one of those cities who'd like to meet up for a coffee, or have me speak, please do let me know!
You may have noticed that the previous post is something I wrote over two years ago. I started to write today's post and noticed that it was similar to the older post. The fact that I was writing almost the same thing two years later made me realize that it was time to share both posts.
This month I decided to let my older daughter, who is starting kindergarten soon, attend camps at some of our favorite museums. (As much as she likes hanging out in my office/lab there is only so much time you want to spend with your mom in the summer when elsewhere there are kids to play with!) Based on her interests and schedule we chose two: one that was mathematics focused, and one that was engineering focused. Both classes emphasized fun, hands-on projects and it seemed like a great way for my artistic, science loving kid to meet peers and mentors.
Last week was math camp. She made structures, patterns, cooked, measured, etc. It was awesome! There seemed to be about 10 kids. 2 were girls. She loved the camp, but pointed out to me that she noticed how few girls there were.
This week is engineering camp. So far she's made an awesome motorized pen and a car out of found materials. Morning drop off is a bit tough, though. When she gets there the boys are usually all together playing with the car race track. She likes to start her day building or drawing in the cardboard fort. I guess I should state that that's how all of the girls in the class start their day. Note that it's a one person fort. She seems to really like the class but has mentioned how she's the only girl and that the teachers thought there would be one more but that girl hasn't attended yet.
I thought things were improving.There are amazing groups like DIY Girls, Black Girls Code, andTechbridge. In my engineering classes over the past few years the number of women seemed to be going up. This fall more than half of my teaching assistants, who are skilled students who serve as peer mentors to students in the engineering design courses I teach, are women. However, in my day to day experiences as a parent, it seems that at the youngest level we're missing some amazing opportunities. I wasn't expecting there to be an equal split of boys and girls in these camps, but I'm surprised at just how few girls my daughter is meeting in programs like this.
I strongly believe that a world in which kids, all kids, are given the opportunity to make things (and engage with math, science, design and technology) from an early age, and shown how this knowledge can be used to improve the lives of others, and the state of our environment, is a world that we need to create. Soon.
As the school year approaches, and I prepare to teach engineering undergrads and PK-12 educators, this experience is something that I'm thinking a lot about. I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences on this topic.
I have two young daughters. My oldest is three, and seems to love all things science and engineering. (My youngest is an infant, so her engineering/science experience mostly consists of chewing on my textbooks.) Recently, my older daughter took a class on "Robots and Rockets." We're members (and go to the museum almost weekly), so when the class catalog arrived I read the list of courses to her and let her pick. She chose one on shadow puppets, one on "things that go," and the "robots and rockets one." Her dad accompanied her to the first two classes, but she decided that since I work with robots, I should go with her to the robots class.
Imagine my surprise when I realized that out of the 9 students in the class, my daughter was the only girl. Among the parents, there were 6 men and 3 women. I am often asked to write/speak/comment on issues pertaining to being a woman in engineering, but usually find this challenging as I usually think of myself as an "engineer," not a "female engineer." (I'm proud to be both.) I know, based on my experiences as both a student and a professor, that engineering programs are dominated by men, but it never occurred to me that this would also be the case for a program designed for three and four year olds! There are excellent studies out there that identify some of the reasons that women leave science by the time they enter college, but these articles often focus on things that happen in elementary and middle school. My experience at the "Rockets and Robots" class made me realize just how much earlier this happens.
(Before I go any further, let me say up front that it is entirlely possible the gender ratio for the class was a fluke. The instructor said to me later that there is usually a better boy/girl mix. That said, 8 boys to 1 girls seems worth writing about.)
So how does a three year old end up in a robotics class? I can think of two possibilities: (1) They are given the choice, and they choose to go, or (2) Their parent or gaurdian signs them up for it without asking. In both cases, the parent is the initiator. (Unless your 3 year old can read the class listings by themself! Mine can't.) Thus, when a class has such a skewed gender ratio, I find myself asking whether the parents of young girls (again, we're talking about three year olds) are unintentionally steering their children away from this sort of activity?
This is something that I'm thinking a lot about these days. The push for engineering in middle schools came because people argued that high school was "too late." Then middle school was "too late" and we saw more hands-on STEM in elementary schools. However, if the opting out is actually starting before preschool, we need to rethink our whole strategy. There are some excellent efforts out there (including those at science museums) which teach pairs of parents and children together.
Now I should mention that if my daughter told me she'd rather go to ballet class than robot class, I will happily drive her and her slippers to the studio, but I hope she always knows that the "robot class" is an option. Here's a guest editorial that I wrote for Make: online.
Recently, I wrote a short article for Make: magazine about my experiences looking for "real" tools for my daughter. I thought I'd share what happened next...
I put off the actual buying of the tools for a bit, but when the holidays rolled around, my oldest (almost 4 years old) daughter asked an elf to tell Santa that she wanted a "wood set with tools." (I was amused that she didn't ask Santa directly. This was possibly becuase (a) she'd already asked Santa for three things, which is our family limit, (b) the line for Santa was long, or (c) as she put it "the elves are the ones who use tools.") Now that it was an official request, I figured I better start looking more seriously!
I started by going to a local "big box" chain hardware/home-repair store. When I got there, I figured I'd ask a sales clerk for suggestions. I asked the man in the tools section for some help, and couldn't help but notice that he looked uncomfortable when I said I was shopping for a child. He waffled a bit about how they didn't really sell things for children, and then he asked how old my daughter is. Here I must confess that I lied. I started to say "four," and stopped myself. I then said "eight." (I figured that if they couldn't help me shop for an eight year old, a four year old was out of the question.) The reply? He looked at me a bit wide eyed and said. "Eight? That's really young. I didn't have woodshop until my last year of middle school, and that school doesn't even do that anymore. Eight?" This is when I knew that this shopping excursion was going to be a challenge. I said that I thought eight (thinking four) was a good age for a hammer, nails, saw, and hand drill. (They didn't have non-powered hand drills, though.) After watching him uncomfortably look at saws I thought I'd throw him an easy request. "How about safety glasses? Can we just get a pair of kid safety glasses?" The reply "We don't have those." I guess I could have picked my own hammer or nails at this point, but decided to leave.
Later that day, I was in a small shopping district buying some other presents. As I walked to my car I noticed a small hardware store on the corner. On a whim, I went in, not expecting much. However, when I said that I was trying to buy tools for my daughter, two of the sales clerks jumped up. The first suggested I look at the smaller hammer that they had just sold to a dad and son, the other started walking me down the aisles pointing things out. Then they asked "the question." "How old is your daughter?" When I said four, they nodded and said that was a bit young, but that was all. And who knows, perhaps four is a bit young, but my daughter asked, and I'm willing to supervise. I'm happy to say that I was able to pass my shopping notes on to some elves, and that there was a saw, hammer, nails, hand drill, tool box, safety glasses, and wood under the tree a few weeks ago.
AnnMarie Thomas is an Associate Professor in the School of Engineering at the University of St. Thomas. She is the Director of UST’s Playful Learning Lab and the UST Center for Engineering Education. AnnMarie is the author of “Making Makers: Kids, Tools, and the Future of Innovation.”
She earned an SB in Ocean Engineering from MIT, a PhD in Mechanical Engineering from Caltech, and a professional certificate in Sustainable Design from MCAD.
She lives in Minnesota with her husband and daughters.