Find the red door by the loading
dock and enter through it.
Turn right, go through a door.
Turn left, go through another
door.
Go through a dark room until you
see a lobby.
Find the Community Room.
I parked, I went through some doors, I found a room, I
sat down. It was my first morning at ECHO, and I was apparently the only one to
show up for the staff meeting. The panic induced by this realization,
intensified by an eerie quiet that could only exist in an empty museum, quickly
subsided at the sound of excited chatter. The room filled; people hugged each
other and laughed. I smiled, declaring with a faux confidence to whoever asked
that I was “Linda’s new intern.” I answered some questions about myself. I
stood up, I sat back down. I shook hands with a friendly man who I now know as
Phelan, ECHO’s Executive Director. No one mentioned Linda. But then, in an
almost coincidental way, she took a seat next to me and introduced herself.
Since that morning in January, I’ve grown into my role as
an ECHO team member and Linda’s intern. We’ve hosted adult science events,
created new learning experiences for the museum floor, learned science from
experts, kept earthworms from dying at the hands of rowdy children, decorated
ECHO’s Action Lab in lieu of “real work,” prepared cheese platters, tasted
German beer alongside a man with a handlebar mustache, flung mud off ECHO’s
deck, and countless other tasks. We’ve shared awkward moments, confused
glances, victorious high-fives and relieved hugs. One time I sat in a hot media
closet clutching a radio and waiting for a voice to give me the OK to press
just the right button at just the right time or else an entire event would be
put on hold. One time I let some kids convince me our horseshoe crab had died
on my watch. (It was really just taking a rest… on its back.) One time I
thought a turtle was stuck between rocks. (Okay, fine. That has happened at
least four times now; I always think the turtles are stuck.) One time I watched
a hermit crab crawl into a new shell, change its mind, and crawl back into its
old shell. One time I cried in the volunteer lounge because I didn’t know what
I was supposed to be doing.
Now, with only a couple weeks left as an intern here, I
realize that those cryptic first instructions were actually simpler than
everything that followed. I realize that all of my
achievements and contributions, some great and some minute, were the direct
result of both ECHO’s complex nature and a kind of intrinsic chaos that exists
only in a truly creative, passionate, and inspiring place.
“Our real discoveries come from chaos, from going to
the place that looks
wrong and stupid and foolish.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters
Blog by: Erin Shetron, Spring 2013, ECHO Education Intern
― Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters
Blog by: Erin Shetron, Spring 2013, ECHO Education Intern









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