Almost every kid loves Legos, well maybe only guys, but I had a legitimate obsession. I think the first crime I ever committed and the first time I ever sinned was over Legos. My Mom’s office partner had a big box of Legos, and she had some sweet pieces that enhanced my collection back home, so in the mind of a five year old if they made my collection better, I had the right to them.
What is so awesome about Legos is the freedom and creativity associated with Legos. I could be a deep-sea diver, a pirate, a space cadet, or a knight in shining armor. These sweet occupations in the world of Legos carried over to my vision for my real life. My dream job was to build real life Legos. For a huge majority of my childhood I wanted to be an engineer and design planes for Boeing, or guns for Remington, or build giant bridges and cities.
My parents were so proud of their “little engineer” who was always building and modeling and creating. Legos give kids the power to create and develop, and so I was compelled to create and develop in the real world. And this elates parents! I remember one year for Christmas Santa gave me book about building bridges. I guess Santa was proud of the “little engineer” as well? My plan to be an engineer, work for Boeing, or design the world’s coolest bridge was foolproof! Except there was one minor detail: math.
Legos need a warning label. I would suggest something like this: WARNING: Playing with “real life Legos” requires math. Enjoy it while you can.
Am I bitter that playing with Legos in real life requires math? Yes. Why am I blogging about this? Because even if I had the opportunity to become a math genius, I would never trade the Liberal Arts for real life Legos. I find passion in the Liberal Arts. Not just in fellow students, and myself but in the actual course of study, and the professors who teach it. And this passion makes building “real live Legos” seem unexciting.