Page 54 of Inside Out
“The only source of knowledge is experience.”
~Albert Einstein
“Don’t stop until you get it right.”
~Julius Shepherd
“In class today, we’re going to be making our own bouncy polymer,” I announced to my seventh period science class. “Which is basically Silly Putty.”
“Silly Putty?” Anastasia Collins asked. “We’re making kids’ toys in chemistry class? I thought this was supposed to be a hardcore science class. I didn’t play with Silly Putty as a kid, Mr. Shepherd. I certainly don’t want to start now.”
“That’s great news,” I replied. “I didn’t say anything about playing with our creation. Anastasia. I said we were going to make it.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because chemistry is the study of matter, and how matter behaves and interacts with other kinds of matter. This experiment is a study of both chemical properties and chemical reactions.”
“Surely, there are other things we could make as an experiment. I heard that first period made bubbles.”
“Bubbles?” Billy Hill asked from the corner. “You think making bubbles is more mature than Silly Putty? That’s just…silly.”
“No one asked you, Hillbilly,” she fired back.
“Hey, now,” I said, holding up my hands. “We’re not about to start criticizing each other or revert to name-calling. Anastasia,” I said calmly. “Did you know that some of our most common household items are results of failed NASA experiments? Most of the items were deemed unsuitable for our rockets but are extremely useful in our everyday lives.”
She rolled her eyes in response and snidely said, “Whatever.” That kind of attitude would never fly in my classroom.
“And now you get to write a detailed report about what those household items are and why the experiments failed. It will be due on Monday.”
“What?” she asked. “It’s Thursday already.”
“Keep it up, and it will be due tomorrow.”
She pursed her lips together in a firm line indicating just how displeased she was with me, but at least she was pouting silently.
“I know that this is a small school, and you’ve likely heard what the other classes made today. I introduced a series of experiments today to all my chemistry classes with various levels of difficulty. I will rotate each of the experiments around so that all of you will get a chance to make these projects. Your first experiment will be making Silly Putty. If anyone here doesn’t agree with my lesson plan, they can take a zero on the assignment and hang out in the office.” I sounded more and more like my mother every day. The woman took no prisoners, and neither would I.
I passed the project worksheet out that included the objective, materials, and procedure. “You’ll see under the procedure section there are columns for observations and physical properties beside each ration combination of glue and borax solution. A critical part of being a scientist is recording the data. I will knock a ton of points off your grade if you present me with a perfect specimen of bouncy polymer but don’t include your observations. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” most everyone said.
“You will fail this assignment if you aren’t wearing the appropriate safety gear. Lab coats, safety goggles, and disposable gloves are required as stated in the instructions. Am I clear on that too?”
“Yes, sir.”
One person from each team retrieved the safety gear while their lab partner collected the materials they’d need. Once the kids had their backs turned to me, I permitted my gaze to land on the sexy, silver fox observing my class. Looking at him then, no one would guess that we had spent the past three nights together. He was cool, calm, and the ultimate professional who judged my performance in the classroom. He had cheerfully greeted the kids and asked that they pretend he wasn’t there. Some of the kids had joked that they’d seen him in several of their classes over the week. Only I knew the magnetism his fancy suit, flesh, and bones hid from the rest of the world.
I had known Rome would be stopping by and had braced myself for the impact of seeing him in my space while surrounded by my students. I didn’t speak to him directly when he entered the room, nor did I allow myself to meet his crystalline eyes even though I felt his regard on me. Rome’s presence wasn’t an official evaluation, we had decided it wouldn’t be appropriate, but the board had implemented a new plan for the school district. They wanted him to be familiar with the teachers, their styles, and the classes our school district offered. I knew from dinner conversations how impressed he was by the teachers, students, and curriculum. He was looking forward to doing the same with the elementary and middle schools too.
“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life to work in a school district where I can have a real impact on the students’ lives,” he’d said while brushing his teeth last night. Rome’s joy and enthusiasm, both in and out of bed, were invigorating and inspiring to me.
I returned my attention to the class once they started to file back to their tables. “My good pal Einstein said, ‘The only source of knowledge is experience.’ That means we don’t stop until we get it right.”
“Isn’t that a Michael Jackson song?” Aaron Harbinger asked.
“No, Aaron. That’s ‘Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough.’ Close though,” I said. “I simply mean you have to start over if you don’t get it right the first time. Work together as a team.”
By the time the bell rang, each of the teams had successfully made bouncy polymer in various colors since food coloring was permitted. I could tell Anastasia was more impressed with her “toy” than she anticipated, but I didn’t comment on it. Most importantly, they each documented their observations.