History for all ages

In museum work, the end of June is always a crazy time of year. A good type of crazy. As the school year draws to a close, the school field trips pile up on our schedule like pennies in a wishing well.

This is my favourite time of year at the museum. Not just because of the school groups, but they play a big part in the excitement. There is something encouraging about seeing a museum gallery come to life with dozens of little ones jostling for their turn to play with the ‘olden days’ stuff. When I hold up a yellowed and dusty old newspaper it can become quite a commodity, especially when a 7 year old, who has just watched the newest release of Indiana Jones, declares that it is probably a pirate’s map.

Some of the best moments for our museum staff involve working with the school groups. I’m laughing to myself as I recall a few instances in particular …..

I had developed a new program to introduce the topic of trade, early forms of commerce, and bartering to primary students. My goal was to let each student pick a trade and decide what they would produce using their new skills in exchange for a small treat. I had approached a local chocolatier and asked for prepackaged treat bags. They could expect to be ‘bartered’ with.

One child decided that he wanted very badly to be a blacksmith despite the fact that he could not, for the life of him remember the word blacksmith. He could remember however, that he worked with metal. When we were ready to practice our bartering skills, he marched proudly up to the counter, in his most rugged blacksmith impression, and demanded a treat because he ‘wooked wiff meadow’.

If children are not fascinated with becoming blacksmiths, then without fail they are fascinated with ghosts. I don’t know how many times I have been asked if someone has died in the building that houses our museum. How do you answer that question honestly? I have found the best solution involves my declaration that I have worked in this 105 year old building for several years and never seen a ghost. My only regret in using this explanation resulted from a child who oh so charmingly asked if I had been working there the whole 105 years.