
When I announced to the class that we were going to go outside and dig a hole, I was met with spontaneous applause. 'Yay! Digging a hole!' I didn’t think much of it because excitement about science is not uncommon in our classroom, but after school Mrs. D. laughed that only
my class would cheer about
digging a hole.

My
plan was to
quickly dig two holes, one near our building and one near the garden, measuring the depth and taking samples as we dug. Then we’d move on to the
real learning—examining the samples and comparing the

soil components present in the two different holes. Once again, I miscalculated. We only got as far as digging
one hole that day, but that one hole provided wonderful discoveries:

Soil forms different colored layers.
There’s clay down there!
That looks like a brick!
Digging became more difficult as our hole grew deeper. “Boy, it really
would be hard to dig a hole to the other side of the world!”
I had no idea that the digging of the hole would be such a learning experience. I guess children don’t dig holes anymore. We filled in the hole because my wise and thoughtful students worried it was a safety hazard for other children, but Ms. A. dug it up again so that she could show her students during after-school tutorials. A couple of students who happened to pass by were so intrigued that they joined her group for the afternoon.
The following week, I invited any interested students to join me during recess to dig the second hole. Only three dedicated souls joined me.

Our first attempt at the second hole failed miserably. Even when one of my diggers hopped up and down on our shovel, we weren’t able to penetrate the grass. I was ready to give up and wait for another day when I could bring a more heavy-duty adult-size shovel. Undeterred, one of the children suggested we try in a spot where the grass was browned and largely dead. Bingo---
much easier digging!

Not long into the digging, one of my diggers observed, “Only girls wanted to dig. Maybe boys don’t like science as much.” “I think the boys just like to play more,” suggested another. I suspect this is closer to the truth—we’d been testing all morning and the lure of running and playing was too much competition for digging holes—but I am heartened that my girls are so blissfully unaware of conventional gender stereotypes.
“I wish I could keep a chart of this in my mind.” Great idea!
Scientists use illustrations to record what they see and to help them think as they work. Soon, she was running inside for paper, clipboard, and colored pencils.

When we finished the hole, we called the class together so that the girls could share their observations:
There are roots and other living things in this hole.
The soil in this hole is darker.
The soil in this hole is looser and easier to dig.
Why might the soil in the two holes be different? “Maybe because it gets more water?” (The hole near the building was under an overhang, while our second hole was open to the sky and the rain.) “Maybe building materials were dumped near the building.”

“There’s a worm!”
Hmm. We didn’t find
any living things in the hole near the building. Why might that be?
“There’s less sun there.”
“It doesn’t get as much rain.”
Mrs. D. shared the sad truth that there may be another reason. Our custodians have been known to dump mop water, floor stripper, and wax from summer floor-polishing in the spot by the building. Not so good for living things, I think.
What we're reading:
Kids Discover SoilDirt by Steve "The Dirtmeister" Tomecek (National Geographic)
What I’m reading:
Last Child in the Woods by
Richard Louv