The child development classroom was abuzz with activity. There were murmurs of pleasure and giggles of excitement. The egg babies had arrived! Some students even went so far as to say, “Congratulations” to fellow classmates. Or, they might ask, “Is it a boy or a girl.” The students had one class period to decorate and name their egg baby. When they finished, each one would be as unique as a real baby. They were to care for their egg baby for 24 hours and report the experience to the class the next day.
It was the seventies. An innovative homemaking teacher came up with the idea of having her students experience the responsibility of caring for a baby by having them care for a raw egg for 24 hours. She shared her idea and it caught on with classes across the state. (The eggs were actually hard cooked.)
I thought the idea would be fun for students for one year or possibility two. Students had other ideas. They looked forward to the egg babies for several years. About midway through the prenatal lessons, they would begin asking when the egg babies would arrive.
There were rules for caring for the egg babies just as there are guidelines for caring for human babies. Egg babies were not to be left in a car or a locker. They could not do anything to the egg baby that would be harmful to a real baby. They could get a sitter for P.E. or extracurricular activities. A baby could not be left alone for that length of time. I had to put a limit on the amount paid for babysitting when someone had a friend offer to keep the egg baby for the entire day for $5.00. (That would buy more in the seventies than now.) I believe it was mutually agreed that 5 or 10 cents an hour was fair. If a sitter could not be found, the baby could be returned to the classroom for daycare during those activities. Babies were not to disrupt other classes. There were suggestions for what to include in their reporting of the experience.
Georgetown High School was octagon shaped. There was a front entrance and on the opposite side was a hall leading a rear entrance. The front entrance was nearer the student parking lot. My classroom was next to the hall leading to the rear entrance. It was a long way around to the front. Students could leave campus during their lunch period. This meant there was a mad dash to the front in order to get out of the parking lot quickly for lunch.
One year the egg babies were decorated, rules understood, and students were ready for the lunch bell. The usual rush began. One boy quickly put his books in his locker, and also his egg baby, and dashed for the front door. He got all the way to the front entrance, hesitated, and rushed back to get his egg baby. Alas! It was gone. In its place was a ransom note. Of course, the note was unsigned, but it did have instructions for retrieving the egg baby after lunch. This was unbelievable. He had no choice but to follow the directions. He did not want to do poorly on this experiment.
Later in the day, I was laughingly told by another teacher that the eggnapper admitted the crime to her.
The reports were always interesting. Some eggs even came back with band aides and detailed explanations of accidents. But there was never one more interesting than the kidnapped egg. I was asked by someone, “You mean, he got all the way to the front door and felt so guilty that he came back for that stupid egg?” I didn’t think the egg babies were stupid to my students (or I hoped not to most of them). My goal was for the pretend babies to give the students some inkling of what was involved in the care of a baby.
I had no idea whether the boy felt guilt for closing his egg baby in his locker. Only he knew that. He was honest about what he did, but I don’t remember if he expressed why he went back. I don’t know if he ever had children. I feel that if he did, he was a good, responsible, and caring father.