I sit hunched on my living room floor. Soon I’ll attempt to relieve the shooting pain in my lower back by rolling over onto my stomach like a sea lion sunning on a rock. In front of me sit my two daughters, 3 and 6. Between us lies the colorful, geometric wonderland of Picasso Tiles. The late afternoon sun shines through the assemblies and alights the floor in a kaleidoscope of dazzling rainbows. My daughters work on some impossible maze for their ponies. It has all the appeal of an M.C. Escher drawing inhabited by one of those poor mythological Greek dudes who can never succeed in his task.

But as I execute my flawless sea lion roll, I focus on my own Icarus-like quest. My inner child is giddy as I attempt to challenge the limit of the multi-dimensional capacity of these little magnetic plastic shapes. Just as I complete my tetrahedron within a tetrahedron, it collapses under its own weight – not unlike my hubris. And so, I haphazardly collect my pieces into a pile and sort them into the flimsy plastic caddy that sits inside their cardboard case. The girls are still playing, so I close the lid of the briefcase-like package. And that’s when our story turns…stupid.

There, across the front of the packaging’s negative space is the dumbest assortment of meaningless, thought-revoking, science-y equations we’ve all seen way too much. The Pythagorean theorem? Even with a toy set that’s dominated by triangles, there is no added value here. But so much worse is Einstein’s famous E=mc2. I had to google that the equation is formally called “Mass-energy equivalence” because, like most everyone I know, I don’t actually understand what it means. And even after a quick lesson by Google, I am still strongly of the opinion that it has no business being included with a perfectly engaging, legitimately-STEM-themed toy. This is a fantastic product that does what it should do: encourage young (and middle-aged) minds to explore, discover, and play with dimension and mass and to connect with their creativity. So why do we find it necessary to keep adding these admittedly recognizable, but clearly gimmicky ploys? Why not just slap “Now with 50% more STEM!” on the box? It would mean just as much.

I couldn’t help but wonder: What are we doing with STEM?

For the uninitiated, STEM stands for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math. The term first became widely used around 2005 when I happened to be graduating high school and entering the engineering program at the University of Nebraska. Since then, the term STEM has saturated children’s toys, books, educational tracts, and beyond. As a self-published fiction author, I myself have pivoted from my original science fiction trilogy to write a growing collection of elementary level chapter books that focus on strong and purposeful STEM themes, despite taking place in a colorful fantasy world. And as a father of these two young girls, I vicariously delight in the never-ending trove of tinker-toys-on-steroids that I would have loved in my youth. But as a person who adores all these things: STEM topics, clear and meaningful communication, and the wonder of childhood, I have a bone to pick.

The excitement and fervor around the engineering and science fields is clearly positive – so what’s the rub? Well, STEM is a means to an end, not the end itself. As it is, we often see these activities with overt symbols like a robot, a volcano, or a microscope. Microscopes are another one of these standard-bearers of the science world. Everyone recognizes them and can point to one and say, “Hey look! Science!” But are we trying to learn more about the microscopic things that hide in plain sight or starting with a microscope and working backwards to incorporate some after thought of a lesson? Incidentally, I’d be curious to see how many new microscope sales folks have entered the job force over the last few decades.

So, here’s the takeaway: Just advertise your toy on its own merits. If it is inherently STEM-centric, someone will see it and immediately think of that kid in their life. If you have to slap STEM-isms all over the package, then maybe just let it be a toy. What’s wrong with that? STEM isn’t a sports franchise. It’s not an energy drink. STEM simply describes a category of industries or focuses of study that resonate with people who are predisposed to certain skills, talents, and interests. The flippant addition of some misunderstood equation-turned-catchphrase doesn’t enhance – it cheapens and distracts. We have to stop being so heavy handed and let the sense of wonder and discovery from these toys speak for themselves.

In the meantime, I’m going to try (and fail) to get up off my living room floor without grunting.

Matt Hebert is an engineer and self-published author. His dopamine-fueled creative pursuits have spanned from chicken keeping, sand sculpture, acting, and public speaking, but writing is nearest and dearest to his heart. He lives in Bellevue with his wife and two daughters. You can find him on Instagram at @jerkofalltradeshebert or email him at matt.hebert.books@gmail.com

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