Ten-year-old Logan Eggleston burst through the front doors of the Nicolaysen Art Museum Thursday evening, his buddies, twins Levi and Logan Wood, running right behind him.

"We're here!" Logan E. shouted, out of breath. "We're all here."

The fourth- and fifth-graders from Woods Elementary had been preparing for this moment every Wednesday after school since January, give or take a few weeks off for a break.

Now, it was time to give their parents and siblings a tour of the current NIC exhibit, "David Bradley: Restless Native, The Journey."

At 10, they're wedged between early childhood and middle school: A place where freedom and increasing responsibility are starting to collide. It's a place where hours upon mind-numbing hours can be spent playing racing video game FlatOut2, but at the end of the day, they still have to take out the trash.

They have a choice: They can either play with toys or act like grown-ups and do their chores.

They know the world around them is changing. Now, they're starting to understand just how much.

As part of the NIC's Student Docent Program, now in its fourth year, the students spent five weeks learning how to find meaning in art and how to tell people not to stand so close to the artwork, thank you very much.

The program was designed to get the community more involved in the arts and to encourage children to look closely at the art around them, said Linda Lyman, NIC curator of education.

"It's truly amazing," Lyman said. "By the end, these kids, they remember so much."

This year, the three boys and one girl who participated learned how artist David Bradley, whom they call the "Weird Al" of art, uses images from politics and pop culture to comment on American Indian stereotypes, life and history.

Through the program, Levi and Logan Wood, Logan Eggleston and Cameron Summerford built enough confidence to speak in front of a crowd and learned to think differently about what they see - in art and in life.

From the walls of the McMurry Foundation Gallery, a world of commentary glared down at them.

In early February, the four student docents picked the artworks they wanted to learn more about, each painting containing images and references beyond the docents' years.

Logan E. and Logan W. narrowed in on painting depicting Tonto and the Lone Ranger facing off, smog and a sprawling mess of chain restaurants dominating the backdrop.

Levi and Cameron, the lone girl of the group, picked a party scene where Bill and Hillary Clinton, Vincent van Gogh and assorted others from reality and fantasy worlds drink tequila inside a Santa Fe cantina.

Part of the 10-year-olds just wanted to make paper trumpets out of their docent handouts. But the part deep inside, the part that's growing up, started asking questions.

The art got them thinking.

After class, with a few minutes before their parents would arrive that day in February, Logan E. and Cameron headed straight for the puppet theater in the corner of the NIC's Discovery Center. The kid in them picked up the puppets to play. The adult in them talked about the problems they see in the world.

War. War is definitely one of them, they said.

And identity theft, said Logan E.

"Immigrants," said Cameron, the emerging adult in her speaking. "I don't think the immigrants should have to be smuggled into the U.S. The whole world should be free. All of us deserve to be free."

And almost as quickly, they were back to their puppets.

After a rousing version of "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells" and throwing Logan E. into a large trash can, it was on to another Wednesday afternoon in the exhibit.

Linda Lyman, curator of education, told them their fate: They would have to give their parents and, most likely, their classmates a tour of the exhibit.

"What? I didn't know we'd have to do that!" whined Logan W. "I get distracted by the people who are annoying. I just signed up because I like the art."

He wouldn't be able to come that day, whatever day it was, he told her. He'd likely be sick and on the verge of dying.

"Yeah, me too," Logan E. piped in, wanting to hide.

The boys debated how they'd handle a classmate who's particularly difficult.

"You never know what the kids are going to think or do," Logan W. said of his peers.

They weren't sure how they'd muster up the courage to stand in front of the class. They decided the best choice was to wear a black mask across their eyes, just like rock stars. To them, it made perfect sense.

Cameron put her head in her hands. She knew from the beginning that giving a tour was part of the deal. But boys will be boys.

"Let's get on to the art, people," she said.

Wrapped in thoughts of their costumes, they didn't notice her.

The evening of the official tour, graduation night, the boys showed up without their rock star masks.

By now they had the confidence to lead, disguise free.

After a few last-minute notes from Lyman, they were ready to give their parents a tour.

None of the four student docents is exactly sure when they'll officially be considered adults, but they decided it's either at age 13, 16 or 20. Or, the boys suggest, maybe it's when they get jobs and settle down with just one girl.

But as they clipped their docent pins to their shirts, the part inside that begged them to play puppets and toss each other into the garbage gave way to the grown-up, the part that had begun to question the world.

Logan Eggleston stepped forward and faced the group: "Please do not eat, drink or take pictures in here. Welcome to the McMurry Foundation Gallery. Please proceed."

Reach features reporter Margaret Matray at (307) 266-0535 or margaret.matray@trib.com