Seaweed, Egg Drop Experiment, and Silent Spring

I couldn't get to sleep tonight. As I laid there in the dark, my mind started pondering my old age amongst other things. I began to think about younger years and ended up focusing on my eighth grade science class.

In eighth grade, I had Mrs. Clark. She was an acceptable teacher, probably even falling on the good side of the scale, but in the end she left me with strong dislike for her. To be honest, there are only four things I remember about her and her class: seaweed, the egg drop, seeing her again when I was in high school, and Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring".

Being a science teacher, it was her job to open us up to the wild and weird world of science, pushing our boundaries and piquing our interests. One way she did this was by introducing us to the seemingly disgusting concept of eating seaweed. On one of the first days of class she passed around a small tray with half inch squares of seaweed on it, inviting us to be amongst the daring and try it. This was eighth grade, so I was unfamiliar with the whole concept of nori and sushi was still more of a gross idea of eating raw fish than a delightful delicacy. The seaweed tasted good though, and I remember taking small squares multiple times a week, as she placed it on the counter for the rest of the year (looking back, that seems unhygienic and gross). Obviously, feeding me wasn't how she got on my bad side, so let's continue.

The second thing I remember was the egg drop experiment. Basically, we had to build an apparatus to allow a raw egg survive a two to three story fall. To keep it interesting, she built up a back story explaining why we were in such a position, why it would ever be necessary to create this magical egg saving device. The premise was something like this:

You work for NASA. In an upcoming mission, astronauts will be sent to
the moon (or some unexplored planet) and need a way to drop their rover,
utilities, supplies, selves, etc., onto the surface. For some reason, jets
can't be used. Because their is no atmosphere, parachutes won't
work. Build your enclosure in such a way that the egg will survive the
fall. Egg must be able to be removed to prove that it has survived. Surviving eggs will be broken to ensure they are not hard boiled. Entire enclosure may be no larger than 6'' by 6'' by 6''.

My dad happened to be in town for work this particular weekend and we spent many hours building enclosures and tossing them out of my bedroom window. Eventually, we designed one that worked. It was cardboard, housing the egg in the center between a bottom surface and a top surface. The sides were open, and around the egg were multiple cardboard "springs" to lessen the blow. I was excited. I had gotten to work on a school project with my father (a rare treat), and we had succeeded in our attempt to solve this engineering dilemma. He went back to California, and I looked forward to taking my project to school.

In class, there was a buzz in the air. We placed all of our projects in a garbage bag (very un-NASA like), and us students headed to the patio outside of the cafeteria while Mrs. Clark headed to the roof. As she threw the first one down, it became obvious that something was wrong. She simply reached into the bag, grabbed a project, and tossed it down towards the ground. Not out, mind you, but threw towards the ground with force. Project after project failed. Finally she tossed mine.

Crack.

I was utterly devastated. I was in the majority, but that was of little solace. The students who had older siblings fared better, having the knowledge that the real secret was to place the egg in a plastic peanut butter jar filled with Jello. Being the eldest, however, I was not privy to such knowledge. I felt like I had failed not only the project, but my dad as well. We finally get to work on a project together and I go and blow it for him. But I didn't place all of the blame on myself. I placed a large portion on her. Mrs. Clark, that lying failure of a scientist. She went against the backstory. We're working for NASA. We need to get this enclosure to the surface from a space craft that is orbiting the planet. There is no atmosphere. Obviously, we have the technology to at least send it out of the ship in the right fucking orientation! Beyond that, why the need to hurl it at the ground. NASA is generally a pretty conservative bunch, avoiding unnecessary risks and liabilities. It doesn't seem that they would send something towards the solid surface of a planet at 50 mph when 15 mph would do. If you're going to give a backstory, stick with it. Instead, she made the concept of the experiment non-canonical. Suddenly it's all just a fun little story that actually has nothing to do with the project.

I'm not going to say that this was what broke my spirit and ruined me for the rest of my school career, but it certainly didn't help.

Third item: Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring". At some point, being a science teacher who was a fan of the earth, Mrs. Clark told us about the book that outlined the dangers of DDT, blowing the whistle and leading to change. She lent out some of her personal copies to those who were interested in reading it, and I ended up with one. After the school year had ended, I was still in possession of the book, and despite the egg drop misinformation, I felt a sense of guilt about it. I wanted to return it, but never really found any reason to go back to my former middle school.

That is, until my Senior year.

Senior year of high school, I took part in my school's production of "You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown". In an effort to raise awareness of the show, myself and a few other cast members were sent to my former middle school to speak to the eighth graders during their lunch period. On the ride over, I remembered the book, kicking myself for not remembering sooner, and contemplating searching her out in the school and sharing an apology for my tardiness in returning it. The speaking went well, very informal, and then we spent the rest of the lunch period going to different tables to talk to students and answer questions. Now, at the time, I was a bit of a punk. My hair was died black and was long enough for my bangs to go behind my ears. Everywhere I went I wore my steel toed boots, my wallet chain, and my black sweatshirt bearing patches for various crappy local punk bands. I don't remember what the dress code was for this engagement, but I likely had the boots and the chains, less likely the sweatshirt. Despite this, I still ended up at some table with little eighth grade punks. In conversing, I found out that one of them was the younger sister of a kid I knew from a year above me, Nate Sheridan. We all talked until the end of lunch, when the students left for their various classes. I had noticed Mrs. Clark monitoring the lunch period, so I now approached her. She was speaking to another teacher and when I came over she spoke first, saying "Is that your sister? Are you Nate Sheridan?"

Slap in the face!

I understand that I was taller, had dyed hair, and was dressed a bit differently than I had in eighth grade, but still! I simply said "no" and walked away, fuming. Yeah, yeah, I know it's hard for teachers to keep all their former students straight year after year, but all things considered it was just too much. It was at that second that I relinquished all guilt over hoarding her copy of "Silent Spring", vowing never to return it. Its cover price is simply a small payment towards the anguish she has caused me.