Funny how some people click, some run together idle on neutral, and a few are positively irritating. I know someone is irritating (to me) when a strong urge to punch them comes over me. Luckily, whilst impulsive, I do have self control. And all the people I want to punch are in cyber space. There but not here.
For some time there has been a blog person who so irritates the hell out of me I latch onto her rarely – other than when I need to scratch my irritability itch. If she weren’t so delicate she’d definitely qualify for a good punch. Most interesting that whilst she is a wilting flower she is as hard as nails. Rarely have I known a person I dislike more. And no, it’s not you. It’s you.
Yes, chemistry. I slept through most my chemistry (and physics) lessons with the dismal results to be expected: Swotting like crazy, and through the night, before an exam. Unfortunately my chemistry teacher was also my Maths teacher and when I joined the school, mid lesson, he hated me at first sight. If there is one man in my life who ruined aspects of it it’s him. He is dead now. Serves him right.
What’s there to mind about a dwarf with a glass eye and a passion for math? Nothing. I could have lived with him (in the classroom) perfectly well. Yet, to him I was that glug of oil that wouldn’t mix with his water. Interesting, very. Ponder.
Anyway, I have now devised the perfect way of how to teach tired teenagers chemistry. Forget about your Bunsenbrenner. No, I will not tell you a system so perfect I wish I were headmistress and could run my school’s own labs. I can guarantee you one thing: If that system were in place you’d graduate with an A*. All of you. And me.
And by the way: PB (Plumbum), lead, was my favourite element.
U
Bitch on the Blog 
Ah the effects of chemistry on human relationships! Yes, I think we all have had the experience of meeting someone we instantly dislike or who dislikes us, for no explainable reason. The beauty is that we sometimes meet people who we gravitate to with an abrupt joy, also for no explainable reason. And may I just add that one of my chemistry teachers had one of those adverse reactions to me, and I to her. Yikes!
Comment by writingfeemail — August 25, 2012 @ 10:39 |
Renee, the ones you don’t connect with don’t really matter. It’s the ones you do [gel with} that have potential to cause you pain.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — August 26, 2012 @ 13:37 |
Ah no – bunsen burners are essential. Instant conflagrations – just as instantly extingushed. Does get in the way of learning though, I suppose.
Comment by blackwatertown — August 25, 2012 @ 20:02 |
Paul, you are right: The Bunsen Burner does add a certain amount of excitement to proceedings.. I am curious but I am not stupid. So I never ever volunteered taking part in an experiment. You may not only burn your fingers your eyebrows may get singed – as happened to two of my classmates. It’s essential to know when to keep your distance.
As an aside: If that happened today in our ‘Health and Safety’ obsessed society it would be a scandal in a tea cup. After all, kids are not allowed any longer to use skipping ropes or kick a ball around during school’s playtime. They might fall over. They might hurt themselves. Yes, how to take the fun out of a child’s day. How do you learn what risks to take if you aren’t allowed to take any?
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — August 26, 2012 @ 13:33 |
That attitude has not completely infected where I live – skipping is encouraged. In fact I live next to a champion skipper. Cricket (and sometimes football) is played in the middle of the road. Kids and older people race bicycles over ramps and into holes in the woods.
There are also two decent pubs – one which is great. Perhaps I’ll never leave.
Comment by blackwatertown — August 26, 2012 @ 22:02 |
Sounds like paradise, Paul.
I remember the mother of one of my son’s class mates being horrified that I’d let the Angel take the train to school (20 minute ride and a walk from the station to the school). “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him”, she said. So she’d drive her son door to door. For heaven’s sake, Paul, they were in their nearly mid teens. A friend opposite me who saw the warning signs of a storm brewing in my face kicked me in the shin under the table. I still couldn’t help myself to ask that stupid woman at what point she’d let him take public transport, indeed let him do anything that children and teenagers do. What did she say: “When he is eighteen. Because then he won’t be my responsibility any more.” I stopped it there. I realized that there was no point to tell her that if you don’t allow your children to gradually dip their toes into the big pond of life (emphasis on ‘gradually’) they will hardly be ready to enter the holy grail of ‘adulthood’. Funnily enough, when I briefly mentioned the name of that boy to the Angel he said: “Oh, yes, he is the most disruptive in class.” And he didn’t mean ‘in a good way’. It’s years ago and I still can’t wipe that smug smile off my face. Wonder what’s become of that poor boy.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — August 27, 2012 @ 06:08 |