A Terrible Beauty: What Teachers Know but Seldom Tell outside the Staff Room by Dave St.John Page A

at
the lack of conflagration. O’Connel explained that nitrogen is not
flammable.
    They were not appeased. With much groaning, they
dutifully wrote their conclusions.
    Next was oxygen. He explained that oxygen was very
dangerous because it accelerated combustion, and that many horrible
fires had begun when oxygen was used in hospital rooms. He had the
first row move their desks back, and he ducked behind a cupboard.
The student with the pole, fearful, crouched low.
    Solange squinted, not sure what to expect.
    Pffft· They groaned.
    It was no good.
    It was boring.
    “You fooled us!” Solange smiled at herself for
falling for his trick.
    “Did I? Okay, remember, oxygen’s necessary for
combustion, but is not itself flammable.
    They weren’t happy, but they wrote it.
    “Next is hydrogen.” From a cupboard he took a large
balloon.
    “What will happen if we use a match to provide
activation energy for hydrogen in the presence of oxygen? Sally
surprised Solange by throwing up a plump arm. “It’ll bond?” He
smiled over Sally’s head at Solange. “So, you’ve been listening.”
O’Connel waved her up, “Okay, come on up here.” This balloon, big
as a beach ball, went up in a ball of orange fire three feet across
to flatten against the high ceiling, leaving no smoke at all and
twenty-four thirteen-year-olds yelled with one voice.
    Sally’s face lit up in rapture—now this was more like
it! When he had them quiet, he mentioned the Hindenberg, and said
that there was now some water vapor up near the ceiling that hadn’t
been there before.
    As they predicted, the noble gases merely made a
small raspberry sound when touched by the burning match. This
caused several imitations. The mushroom cloud of flame forgotten,
they were again bored.
    He took a balloon the size of a grapefruit down from
a high cabinet. “Now what we have is a mix of acetylene and
oxygen.”
    “The gas they use for welding?” Sally said.
    Again Solange was impressed.
    “That’s right. Now the hydrogen we burned wasn’t
mixed with oxygen.”
    “Just when it burned, right?”
    “Yeah, well this gas is, and when fuel is mixed with
oxygen burns very quickly. Very dangerous. Very good bombs.”
Groans. The balloon was too small, they all agreed. It wouldn’t do
anything but fart, anyway. They shut their journals, chins cupped
in open palms. The period was nearly over. They watched the second
hand on the clock as it ticked down taking them nearer the
break.
    He called for a volunteer. Sally’s was the only hand
raised.
    The small balloon went off like a bomb in the closed
room, leaving Solange’s ears ringing. Chalk dust blown from the
chalk tray by the concussion hung in the air like a fog. It was
dead quiet, now.
    Sally stood by the lab table, frozen, open mouth
slack, stick held under the empty ring stand. Slowly, a smile grew
on her face, tiny pig-eyes wide. “Wow.”
    O’Connel took the bamboo pole out of her hand. “Well,
you always said you wanted to blow something up. Now you have. I’ll
let you go a minute early for break, go get some fresh air.” He
opened several windows, as the class filed out in stunned
silence.
    Solange worked her finger in her ear. “That was
loud!” He smiled. “Yeah, I think it woke them up.” Lott stuck his
head in the door, frowning at the pall of dust.
    “What the hell’d you do, blow the place up?”
    “I blew up your best student.”
    “Oh, Lord, not Sally! Who’s going to take roll for
me? You got her to do any work in your class, yet?”
    “It’s only November. Today she came dangerously close
to writing her name, though,” O’Connel said.
    “What’s your secret? That gal can tell you where
anybody in the school is at anyone time—you pick the period—but it
takes her all period to open her binder! Explain that, will you?”
He went out.
    O’Connel wedged the door open to air out the
room.
    Solange watched him, thinking. “You know the decision
whether or not to return a student