The days before an exhibition is chaos, unless you are Jeff Robin whose projects are already complete weeks before. Leading up to exhibition students have a real and palpable sense of angst, stress and uncovered excitement, not to mention to teachers too.

This exhibition brought with it a massive amount of anticipation in regards to the Long Now Project, a year and a half long project whose official debut, was last night. The students from the previous school year had spent the whole year belaboring about the details of the artwork on the cube, the fine tuning and laser cutting of the panels and the physics behind it. This current year's students had picked up where their peers had left off and devoted virtually the better half of their first semester working on the project in their Physics and Math class.

As a math class, what were we going to exhibit? We had worked to mathematical model the dozens of interdependent equations and isolated numerous inputs in order to capture the ideal outputs. Should we simply print out our Desmos graphs, all 54 combinations of them?Or possibly, should we deluge our audience with the spreadsheet that housed over 36 equations with their desired domains and ranges? I discussed it with my colleagues, Mike and Scott, and they suggested a timeline of the process students went through. Fantastic! An idea that seems honest and authentic.

However, as time came closer to exhibition I made one major mistake. It wasn't until two nights before exhibition where I shared with Scott what the timeline included. We went back and forth as a class about what to do and I made a decision to do a comic book type storyline featuring one of the main characters of the artwork, Merle the Squirrel.

This exhibition brought with it a massive amount of anticipation in regards to the Long Now Project, a year and a half long project whose official debut, was last night. The students from the previous school year had spent the whole year belaboring about the details of the artwork on the cube, the fine tuning and laser cutting of the panels and the physics behind it. This current year's students had picked up where their peers had left off and devoted virtually the better half of their first semester working on the project in their Physics and Math class.

As a math class, what were we going to exhibit? We had worked to mathematical model the dozens of interdependent equations and isolated numerous inputs in order to capture the ideal outputs. Should we simply print out our Desmos graphs, all 54 combinations of them?Or possibly, should we deluge our audience with the spreadsheet that housed over 36 equations with their desired domains and ranges? I discussed it with my colleagues, Mike and Scott, and they suggested a timeline of the process students went through. Fantastic! An idea that seems honest and authentic.

However, as time came closer to exhibition I made one major mistake. It wasn't until two nights before exhibition where I shared with Scott what the timeline included. We went back and forth as a class about what to do and I made a decision to do a comic book type storyline featuring one of the main characters of the artwork, Merle the Squirrel.

While his/her/its eminence, Merle the Squirrel was a main character of the squirrel civilization's rise and fall, I had missed a whole lot of information. Scott looked at the proposed timeline and advocating for something more informative, museum-like and simply put, better. It was a crash a burn moment for me. I knew he was exactly right and I had failed to collaborate more with him, Mike and others as the time left until exhibition was expiring.

It was one of those sink or swim moments when you realize that your canoe has sprung a leak. You can sit idly as tears (I didn't actually cry) of the past and streams of "should haves" fill and drown the canoe. Or you can abandon it, flip it over and make use of its buoyancy. That's what I did. I abandoned the idea of exhibiting the timeline through a comic because I didn't think it would have shined enough light on the students work. After the mistake of not collaborating enough, the stress leading up to exhibition, Merle the Squirrel, the students put on a memorable exhibition of their fantastic work.

It was one of those sink or swim moments when you realize that your canoe has sprung a leak. You can sit idly as tears (I didn't actually cry) of the past and streams of "should haves" fill and drown the canoe. Or you can abandon it, flip it over and make use of its buoyancy. That's what I did. I abandoned the idea of exhibiting the timeline through a comic because I didn't think it would have shined enough light on the students work. After the mistake of not collaborating enough, the stress leading up to exhibition, Merle the Squirrel, the students put on a memorable exhibition of their fantastic work.