Page 24 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

“I’m Ms. Burke, and I will be teaching Fundamentals of Chemistry this semester, or as I like to call it—Fun Chem. I love chemistry jokes and will be telling them periodically. They really put me in my element.” I paused, waiting for a few laughs, but was only met with blank stares.

“Burke like the library?” the sleepy student called from his prone position. His eyes were still closed.

All the air felt like it had been sucked out of my lungs, and I had to strain to hold my smile in place.

“No relation,” I said quickly.

Lying was probably a mistake. Gossip spread like wildfire through the isolated campus. But I simply didn’t have the capacity to think about anything outside this classroom at the moment.

I turned to the whiteboard and, picking up one of the two dry-erase markers, began to write my name. The marker was light yellow and practically impossible to read. Why did marker companies even make yellow markers? Surely, there was no demand for this useless color.

I popped the cap back on and dropped it on the tray before grabbing the second marker—blue. Much better.

Having written my name and the class title in large letters, I turned back to the room and picked up my syllabuses. I began passing them out to each student while I continued my prepared remarks. Moving around and having something to do with my hands helped settle my nerves more than anything else had so far. I was finally finding my groove.

“All of you took the prerequisite, Introduction to Science, either as freshmen or sophomores, and chose to continue in the chemistry track. Fun Chem covers atomic and reaction fundamentals and lays a foundation of chemistry principles which you may choose to build on in Advanced Chemistry next year. The material may seem challenging, but we’re all going to make like a proton and stay positive.”

More silence.

My cheeks were starting to ache from the strain of holding the smile on my face.

At the rate I was going, this was going to be the longest hour of my life. I took another deep breath and counted to five, willing my nerves to relax. I just needed to follow my plan. It was a good plan.

“Let’s start by going through the roster so I can learn your names, then we’ll review the syllabus and classroom expectations. This is a classroom, yes, but this is also a laboratory. So, there are some important safety rules that everyone will be expected to follow. Chemistry is a lot like cooking—just don’t lick anything.”

This finally got a couple of tentative chuckles, and the weight that had been crushing my chest began to ease.

The next twenty minutes passed more quickly with me trying to find a balance between being likable and maintaining authority. When I got to the napping boy in my role call (Masterson comma David), I said, “What did one charged atom say to the other? I’ve got my ion you.” No one laughed at this joke either, but the boy did sit up, at least.

I spent the second part of the period lecturing on the first section of material. There were nine topics to cover this term. With exams and holiday breaks, I figured that I would need to cover one topic per week to keep on track. Best to start on day one.

This week we were starting easy. “Everything in the universe is made up of atoms and molecules, including the caffeine that Mr. Masterson forgot this morning. And, we can predict how matter will behave by understanding the essential building blocks—the similarities and differences in their properties.”

Heads were down, and the room was filled with the soft scratching of pencils on notebooks as I reviewed alkali and alkaline earth metals. By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the period, the white board was covered with atomic symbols, definitions, and a halfway decent drawing of sodium exploding in water.

“Check the syllabus for your homework assignments,” I called as students packed up their bags and hurried from the room. “Do you know your elements? Isotope so!”

Admittedly, my first lecture could have gone a little more smoothly—I couldn’t believe how few people laughed at my best jokes. Those always killed with my classmates in college. But it was only the first lesson. They would warm up to my humor eventually.

The important thing was that I had done it. I had survived my first lesson and lived to tell the tale. I flipped the marker in the air and caught it in one hand.

The air changed the second Cooper stepped into the room. He looked like the perfect academic this morning in another crisp Oxford shirt and slim, khaki pants. His belt was the exact shade of brown as his shoes and a leather backpack that looked like it had seen better days.

My purple pants suddenly felt garish and unprofessional. I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and ducked down to collect my bag and empty coffee cup.

“Good luck,” I chirped as I passed him on my way to the door, hoping I didn’t look like I was running away. Which I definitely wasn’t. It just didn’t feel like my room anymore.

Chapter 8

Marker-gate

When the bell rang again, signaling the end of second period, I heaved a sigh of relief mixed with anticipation and began the trek back into Franklin Hall, up the familiar staircase and down the long hall to the last classroom. The break felt like a purgatory where my nerves had fifty-five minutes to spiral again even worse than before. All I could think about was Cooper. What was he doing in there? Was his class going well? Was it going better than mine had?

As much as I had hated killing time before my next section began, I hated even more the imposter syndrome settling into my chest the closer I drew. This class would go better than the first one. It had to.

It wasn’t that the first class had been bad. It just hadn’t been good. And I needed to be better than good. I was sure my parents wouldn’t care if I got the job, but they would sure as hell have something to say if I didn’t get it.

Standing outside the classroom, I waited for the heavy stream of students filing out to ebb so I could slip back in. Quite unlike the students in my own section, this group were all grinning and chattering like a flock of birds.