King Tut had nothing on this chicken. Just ask one of the students in Amy Civin’s sixth-grade history class at San Diego Jewish Academy in Carmel Valley. King Kluck, the chicken-cum-royalty, was the focus of the class’ recent study of ancient Egypt and the mummification of pharaohs and kings. Civin, a Pacific Beach resident, believes in hands-on learning. “I like to think outside of the box,” she said. “You give the students a little wiggle room and they run with it.” Hence, the actual mummification of the 1,682.3-gram poultry. The project combined history, science and writing. For seven weeks, “King Kluck’s Journey to the Afterlife” brought to life the death ritual of the royal chicken. The students cleaned it and removed the organs, mixed natron to dry it, stuffed it and dried it again weekly, coating it with cinnamon and baking soda and then re-stuffing it once again. Through the process, they decided, the chicken smelled like “a wet dog” or “Dad’s gym socks.” For the burial, the kids crafted a sarcophagus, which they filled with Mardi Gras necklaces and buttons and other little trinkets they found around their homes. They also included a jar filled with plastic “jewels.” At the final weigh-in, the mummified chicken-king’s weight was down to a svelte 193.54 grams. Finally, the class met outside to celebrate the passing. Students wrapped Kluck in gauze, then smoothed on ribbons printed with hieroglyphic messages honoring the deceased. Yes, Civin said, her students learned enough hieroglyphics to be able to spell: “We love you” and “I’ll miss you.” As a student jazz band played, the chicken was laid to rest in his Nike-shoebox sarcophagus. Then, the class shared original essays of homage. One mentioned Kluck’s wife “Chickapatra.” Another wrote about the fowl’s mischievous teen years and his bout with green-spotted chicken pox. A third wrote about Kluck’s move to the country of El Pollo Loco and explained that that’s where the modern-day restaurant got its name. “We learned,” one girl joked, “that (a mummified chicken) smells. But it’s not the smell that counts.” Though the students were fascinated with the project, they admitted that their relationship with chickens had changed. “I haven’t had chicken since we started the project,” one little girl claimed. Another said, “I’m a vegetarian, so it doesn’t matter.” “I won’t be making cinnamon chicken ever again,” said one of the mothers in attendance at the “funeral.” Civin, who watched the rites with a big smile, said she wasn’t sure yet where she would end up burying the King Kluck. But she said she thought it would be fun for her students to disinter it when they became seniors.
