Explosive Uptake Of Chemistry In Schools, As It Turns Out Blowing Stuff Up Is Awesome

, , , , , , | Learning | November 9, 2018

(Decades before the TV show about blowing things up with science, there was my high school chemistry teacher. The very first day of class, I sit down in my chair and lean back lazily. Then I freeze, with my eyes wide.)

Friend: “[My Name]? Are you okay?”

Me: “The light fixture is melted.”

Friend: “What?!”

(He looks up where I’m looking, and right above the table where the teacher would be making demonstrations, the hanging light fixture is indeed partially melted, and twisted. The ceiling is pock-marked with black marks, and I could swear there are things… embedded… in the ceiling.)

Friend: “Uh…”

(The facts spread quickly as other students file in, see other kids muttering uneasily, and follow the pointed fingers. The teacher comes in:)

Teacher: “All right, students, I know this is not a class you want to take first thing in the morning, but I would like to inform you now that there will be no dozing off in this class.”

(The entire class wordlessly points to the ceiling.)

Teacher: *with an evil smirk* “Oh, darn. You already figured out the reason why.

(To be fair, nobody did doze off in class. Our teacher was notorious for demonstrating why you followed the rules exactly, by demonstrating how NOT to do things. Just about everything our teacher did either exploded, caught on fire, or did something likewise terrifying. Every day a demonstration happened, the first three rows of students scooted their desks back as far as they could, cramming toward the back of the room. I learned a lot about chemistry, but I wonder, years later, if my teacher ever happened to teach the hosts of that show. It would explain a lot.)

Funerals Don’t Have To Be Funereal

, , , , , , , | Related | August 6, 2018

My great, great grandmother was quite a character all her life. When she passed away, the family gathered for the funeral, and milled around, sharing stories in subdued voices about memories of her.

Shortly before everyone began to file into the room, the funeral director came in. He was looking very frazzled, and wringing his hands. He apologized profusely, and said that the funeral couldn’t start yet; her body wasn’t there!

Apparently, the morgue sent her to the wrong funeral parlor, in an entirely different city! The hearse was on its way to pick her up, but… well… the funeral was going to be delayed.

There was a beat of silence, and then the entire family managed to start laughing.

My great, great grandma had always told the family that she was always late, and would likely be late to her own funeral. She was! About two hours late to be exact.

The story is now family legend, of how great, great grandma was late to her own funeral, and it was the one family funeral that was conducted with snickers and giggling.