Joshua Winn
Not Your Typical Chemistry Class
The class is staring ahead, looking blankly-their eyes half open, their mouths hanging-at our instructor, waiting to hear what she has to say. She isn't the typical chemistry teacher, one with a pocket protector, thick glasses, and a periodic table in her hand, which makes her unpredictable. Slowly she raises one eyebrow, then the other, and stares a cold stare. Her mouth opens slowly, announcing, "It's a good thing I love you guys. Because if I didn't, I would have destroyed you all . . . mercilessly."
Even though she is just kidding, she really has the power to "destroy," giving multiple packets of free response and multiple choice homework problems, wreaking havoc with grades. The instructor, whom we all love to call "Momma," is an unique individual: a diehard fan of Star Wars, a brilliant scientist who has memorized the entire periodic table and can recite it to a tune, and announces her punctuation while speaking. She can be heard saying "However, comma . . . " throughout the day. She grades with participation points, where a student can receive anywhere from one point, zero points, or negative points. She refers to this system as the "P" orbital system, a joke taken from the periodic table, where each section is blocked off by energy levels with designated orbitals. John, a senior, who is cross-eyed, peculiar, and a brilliant student, consistently asks to be moved to the "F" orbital, so he can receive more participation points, seven to be exact. He believes this might raise his grade, but due to his outbursts, it would most likely harm him as he can also reach negative seven points.
The classroom is most unusual, covered in Star Wars posters (rotated every six days and never used twice). Barometers of various sizes, colors, and shapes are seen hanging on the wall, some of which couldn't even be recognized as barometers. Also surrounding the room are various PenMen posters, each with only two identical PenMen, to which Momma knows all of the locations except one.
Today the class enters this classroom, expecting a quiz. Today's quiz just so happens to be from the previous night's homework: shapes of molecules. "Are you trying to make this difficult?" she asks, as several of the students complain while swimming in their frustrations. Atomic shapes all have names determined by the number of bonds and electrons connected to the central atom. After more complaining, Momma exclaims, "You know, you sure expect a whole lot." Our response is: "Utah students deserve more."
Most quizzes take time to complete, not because of the time it takes to finish the quiz but the time it takes to correct. Correcting is a time when I find I learn the most, but it is also full of interruptions of confusion and distraction. After going on a tangent, Momma says, "Some of you may be saying, 'Who cares? And that's a good point. We're going to move on . . . to number one!'"
Hoping to create more delay, another class member asks, "When is Power School going to be fixed?"
The response: "The 12th of never! I don't care! Some of you are going to die soon. I won't miss you. You're bad people . . . now shut up!" Erin, a girl who sits near the front and likes to share her random thoughts, says, "Why don't we use the pink atoms? I would learn so much better if we used that color."
Finishing the quiz, we move on to either a lab or paperwork. Today we are doing paperwork-assignments for our take home test. Sitting in our desks, we listen while Momma relates a story of a boy who likes to pick his nose and how he is like electrons that are repelled by each other, forming geometric shapes. While the story is disgusting, it will keep the idea (how electrons are oriented in a molecule) in our minds forever. Momma then yells, "If you have questions, come in before school. I don't want anyone calling me tonight at three a.m. Otherwise, I will destroy you all!" More than likely, a third of the class ignored this comment and will call her anyway, as this event has occurred several times in the past.
Doing a lab would have been more interesting than our test. A lab, which is a rare event, is full of excitement, with the "Empire Strikes Back" theme playing in the background while we use pipettes to mix various chemicals, observing the reactions. Because of the risk, we are required to wear safety goggles. Failing do so will result in Momma publicly warning us that if we spill any dangerous chemicals on ourselves, we must strip down any clothing with chemicals on them and jump under a high pressure shower with our eyes pointed up toward the shower head, while everyone can laugh at our accident.
It is now 10:29, the bell is about to ring. The students are tired and Momma
is tired, but we have all learned enough to finish the estimated sixty minutes
of homework for tonight's assignment. The bell rings. We are excited by our
freedom as we run from the classroom. Each student now chatters about the upcoming
dance or what they are going to be doing after school or freaks out about the
forgotten homework for the next class. We may have forgotten the class for the
moment, but we can expect to come to class the next day with new stories and
new lessons to learn, like the incident of Momma dropping a rock from the rafters
at her home on her brother to experiment with gravity.
None of this site--in part or in whole--may be reproduced or copied without the express consent of either Mark or Chris (Actually, for this page, you need Josh's permission). For questions or concerns about using this site for your own purpose, E-mail us at wentzium@yahoo.com Copyright 2003
