Too busy to talk on a very busy day

Merilee Andrews tries to poke her nose in (with mixed results) on some very important business indeed
It's an event that promises its young crew a whale of a time. Two days off school, a glitzy waterfront location, swags of new friends and access to all the computer gear a young heart could desire. Surely too fun to be educational? This is Kids' Congress, an annual creative technology conference run by children for children, and held at the Viaduct's MaritimeMuseum last week. It's a gathering of 120-odd student delegates from around the North Island, led by a unit of Summerland School student-hosts, and me ? there to observe the reverse universe where kids are in control. The first team I meet, just inside the doors of the museum, are there to learn all about making comics, and far too busy to chat. I leave them to their speech bubbles and character outlines, and look forward to meeting more talkative types at the next workstation. En route, the early-style paddling craft that surrounded us caught my eye. ''In the olden days, cavemen discovered boats,'' offers Mavae, one of the kids on duty to guide guests through the experience, which, when you think of how boats must have started ? a log, two logs strapped together, and so on ? makes perfect sense. We reach the next pod, a virtual tour workstation, where students will design a visitors' guide through the museum; then on to the iListen team, which does the same, in audio form. And I'm getting a trend here: no one from the actual stations seems to have a moment to spare to lift their eyes from their screens, and chat. My guides do the talking ? and they're lovely ? but frankly, it's strange to be ignored. Is this what it's like to be a little person in an adult's world? Still plenty of time to connect yet, though, and we go on, on a whirlwind tour of everything nautical. Our journey brings us into a virtual cabin, which seesaws pleasantly from side to side, as it would at sea. On again, on to the interactive modern boat, then the Peter Blake section, flanked by the most focused group of young photographers I've ever seen at work. It's when we reach a trio of activity tables at the end of the building, in a captain's deck with spectacular views out to the Waitemata, that I get a second wind. This is green screen technology, Latham from Pt England School tells me, and they'll use it to tell a story about how a shipwrecked sailor came to live in New Zealand. The story will involve a red string man, superimposed on top of a static background. I'm just about to press further . . . and then it's over. Latham, it seems, has done his dash. He's been polite, now he has work to do. Dejected, I find myself wandering over to the sea shanty crew ? this is music, and no one can stop me listening. It's late in the afternoon, and after a day of writing, performing and recording an original song, they're making plans for tomorrow. A rare straggler attempts to describe her day. ''I expected it to be more computers, but it's been more music,'' says Tori Cooper, from Waioneke School in South Head. ''It's just fun.'' You get that alright. Not fun in the sense of mischief and games, but purposeful, engaging. Even the shy ones are tapping. Just then, a crew from one of the empty stations arrives back, victorious. They've been out on the Pride of Auckland, gathering footage of the boat and harbour, and now they'll turn it into an advertisement for the fleet. They're excited, buzzing, busy, looking forward to the next day ? but I stop the urge to bail one of them up. Isn't it bleeding obvious what their day was like? I sidle away in a quiet escape, like a crab in the sand.