Friday, May 6, 2011

From the Sewage -- A Nugget of Wisdom

 Yep. You're looking at it. Raw sewage.


I swear, when I hear the words 'lecture', 'tour', or 'conference', it evokes a Pavlovian response in me. I absolutely love learning opportunities; the more obscure, the better. Which is the only way I can explain how I ended up touring a wastewater treatment facility last week.

I know this will sound idiotic, but the stench of the place came as a shock. Imagine a muddy elephant house at the zoo, where a diesel truck with burning rubber tires is idling. Now imagine smelling that while viewing machines and pools of deep brown sludge. Seriously, what was I thinking?

To make it worse, I was on the tour with seven scientists. Thankfully, our tour guide was very knowledgeable and passionate about his work. His enthusiasm was contagious, but that didn't change the fact that I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Pumps, intake valves, blah, blah, blah. I was trying to listen, but I felt like I was on the verge of laughter. The absurdity of me touring a wastewater treatment plants with scientists hit me. What in the world was I doing here? Why do I keep signing up for these things? What is wrong with me?

And then, he told us about the micro-organisms they use to process the water. He joked that they "eat poop and die." He laughed and said that's what he tells the school groups that come through on tours. He calls his job being a "Turd Herder" and the 5th graders love it. That got my attention. I asked him what kinds of questions the 5th graders ask when they come on a tour. (Because I knew it couldn't be anything like the questions the scientists were asking!)

The Turd Herder, more commonly known in adult circles as Henry, vaguely said that kids asked good questions. But he added that he uses a lot of potty language in his talks with them and they eat it up. He said the kids suddenly get to talk about Thomas Crapper, who invented the flush toilet, and no one reprimands them for saying 'crap.' I immediately thought of the "Captain Underpants" book series. When I worked for Scholastic Book Fairs, those books flew off the shelves. The 4th and 5th grade boys devoured them.

Then Henry imparted this wisdom. He said he once watched a late night talk show host interviewing a rapper and asked the rapper if he feels like a bad influence on his young listeners because he uses so many cuss words. And the rapper said, no; that he uses the same words that the kids are hearing and saying and that by talking to them in their language, they can then filter that out and hear what his message really is. But they wouldn't hear that if he didn't frame it in their language. So Henry employs the same tactic and uses a potty mouth and plenty of crude humor in his tours with kids.

That's when the whole thing clicked. My a-ha moment. A nugget of wisdom that I knew I'd come away with that day. It wasn't the wastewater treatment process or even collecting the sensations of being there. It was remembering that as a writer, I must relate to my reader, much as Henry geared his talk to the scientists. And as a children's writer, I must relate to children. I need to frame the stories and words in their language.

I don't think that's what I was supposed to learn during my wastewater tour, but that's what I gleaned from the sludge. I wonder what I'll learn on my trip to the Rumpke landfill? Because I have, of course, signed up for that tour, too.

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