C’MON BABY, LIGHT
MY FIRE !
Johnny Gallagher, my high school chemistry lab partner,
remains etched in my memory. Standing only five feet four inches tall, he
proved to be a star varsity basketball player because he could make two-handed
set shots from mid-court. His spunky nature made him a favorite of the team’s
coach, Mr. John Kane, who doubled as our chemistry instructor.
. Mr. Kane’s
basketball teams compiled a losing record, year after year. His record as a
chemistry teacher may have been even worse.
The first time
our class entered the Chem. Lab, Mr. Kane warned us about the danger of
spilling or mixing the various reagents. These were neatly stored in glass jars
that lined the shelves placed above the sinks and workspaces.
“Your first task is to saw cut these three foot long
glass stir rods into one foot lengths.” Gallagher and I managed to do this without
incident.
“Next, twirl them in the flame of a Bunsen burner
until the glass end melts and becomes smooth.” He demonstrated.
Gallagher had no difficulty following these instructions.
It seemed reasonable that I should be able to perform this simple task,
right?
Wrong. Moving
deftly, I positioned the glass rod in the flame, rotating it while one end
melted and became round and smooth. I then reversed the rod, putting the other roughened
end into the flame. Within seconds, the smell of something burning hit my
nostrils. It is I, O Lord! The end of
the rod I had just heated touched some fuzzy threads of my beautiful baby blue
angora sweater, causing them to smolder.
With alarm, I
said, “Here,” handing Johnny the rod in order to beat out the incipient flames
with both hands. He grabbed hold of the end I had just removed from the Bunsen
burner, scorching his palm. Johnny screamed in pain and flung the rod which
knocked over some reagent bottles. Their
contents interacted violently, creating a cloud of acrid, dense smoke. We had
created a scene akin to a Three Stooges skit: I’m dealing with a blazing
sweater; Gallagher is bellowing in pain; and Mr. Kan
After that
incident, Gallagher kept his distance from me. We never became close
friends. Despite this misadventure, Mr.
Kane gave me an exceptional grade of 90. In truth, he passed everyone with the
same mark, as he did not much care to evaluate students. His mind could only
focus on the next basketball season, wondering who would replace Gallagher.
This experience taught me never to choose an Irish
leprechaun as a lab partner. They ruin your best clothes.
▄ .
No comments:
Post a Comment