When I was in 6th grade, my class went on two field trips on Valentine's Day. In the afternoon we went to a museum, and as I recall there was a Chinese exhibit. In the morning? We went on a tour of...the sewage treatment plant.
That's right. On Valentine's Day. That was the day that James brought flowers and maybe a teddy bear to Meryl, even though I had a big fat crush on him. But that's okay, he became my boyfriend in 7th grade, so we're all good now. So back to real sewage, and not my emotional sewage.
Some various memories from the trip: I remember our tour guide showed us some fish that they kept in one of the offices in a tank, fish who were flushed but became the pets of new owners. Rescued flushies, precious. He also shared with us a heartbreaking story about an iguana who was rescued, then one of the workers decided to clean his tank and cleaned it with bleach, so then Mr. Iguana died, and thus one hundred 6th graders cried during their field trip. I remember a circular pool, at one of the final stages when the water is relatively clean, with a horizontal sprinkler tracking over the top of the surface. But y'all know I am telling you about the clean parts. Let's get to the good stuff.
I remember the stench. My favorite, most lasting memory, is a vivid image I have of my math and science teacher, Mr. Morgan, openly smirking amidst the rest of us hysterically giggling 6th graders, observing one particularly large piece of poop on a conveyer belt, recently sifted out of the incoming water flow.
Mr. Morgan was a hysterical person as it was. He used to stand at the front of the classroom as we were doing silent study, shuffling our pages, scribbling answers in our Trapper Keepers. He would rock up and down on the balls of his feet, raising his heels a little and then touching them back to the floor. He would grit his teeth and ask us, "Do you know what I'm doing?...I'm intimidating you."
He had some sort of electric device (people I do not know what it was called), and he would have us stand in a circle holding hands, with two students' fingers on each end of the generator, and then he would wind the crank and a clicking electric tingle would run through us and scare the crap out of me.
His best trick by far, though, was his gas in the can prank. Early in the school year, he pulled out an empty Folgers coffee can, with the lid on, and a hole cut out of the side, toward the base. He took the can over to the gas pipeline that we would use for our bunsen burners and filled it with gas (methane? Again, don't know, not a scientist). Then he took a match or a lighter to the hole. We all gasped in true terror, and then laughed, relieved, when nothing happened. Then class carried on as usual. Eventually, about 20 minutes later, the lid of the can popped off into the air and we all jumped again. We all got a good scare, followed by a good laugh, most especially enjoyed by Mr. Morgan.
Months later he decides to pull the same trick again. We all think we are so cool at this point, we know what's going to happen, "Whatev, Mr. M, go ahead and light that thing, we're not scared." This time, though, after he lights the can, he tells the class we are going to read aloud from our textbook, as a group. This was another one of his favorite pasttimes--group reading. Especially on the days he was bored, I think, and didn't feel like teaching. We would go around the room, paragraph by paragraph, and as it was your turn you would have to stand with your textbook. I really never felt that he was a mean teacher, I don't think he was trying to mock or belittle us. I think he was just trying to have some fun, and it worked because we all thought he was hilarious. So when it was your turn to read, not only did you stand, but you read in a particular manner. Each textbook-reading-class-bonding-session would begin with some added scholarly instruction from Mr. Morgan. In his measured vocal gait he would command us to "read with feeling and emotion." About amoebas. And hydrogen. If anyone got too monotone in their performance, he would pipe up, "feeling and emotion!"
Mr. Morgan always liked to pick on Matt, because he liked him and he was kind of a trouble maker but not a horrible kid; a future heartbreaker. So during Operation Gas in a Can Take Two, he asks Matt to read. Matt hesitantly picks up his book, looks over his shoulder nervously at the can, and we all laugh. He shifts his weight to be able to look at the can while reading. Mr. Morgan says, "please look at your book, Matt," and we all laugh some more.
The best part of this all is, Mr. Morgan never bothered to explain the scientific scenario. Or maybe he did, and I was just so distracted by the hilarity of it all to ever bother taking notes on the chemical reaction. That sounds accurate.
