Monday, October 30, 2006
The Great Alkali Robbery
Ah, fall break. After spending 11 hours or so in the library, I'm pleased to report that I have finished an 8 page handwritten outline of my first graduate school paper. And all without seeing that shiny yellow orb you call "the sun." Sure, that may sound like a negative thing, but because of all the work I got done I can now write an account of the most fascinating and terrifying event to occur at Underwood High School since my departure. An event that will go down in history as the Great Alkali Metal Heist of 2006.
I have heard multiple versions of this story, both from my girlfriend (who is still teaching statistics) and the actual victim of the robbery, a well meaning fellow who has taken up residence in my old classroom on the second floor as well as my previous roster of ninth grade physical science classes. Unfortunately, despite all of this, some of the exact details remain rather garbled, so if anything does not make sense, feel free to e-mail and I will be more than glad to investigate further.
What is certain is the following: Readers of this blog are no doubt familiar with my old nemesis, the school district core curriculum. For those of you staring blankly, I will summarize by saying that one never knew until the day or two before school started precisely what content you would be expected to teach, much less the order in which they would be taught. The first year I taught, it did not exist for science so I got to teach what I wanted, when I wanted. The second year, it started with earth science and ended with physics and chemistry, with random digressions into astronomy and environmental science in the middle. The third year, it started with chemistry, moved to physics, and then ended with earth and space science. This year, it appears they kept the order relatively constant, meaning that my successor is right in the midst of teaching his students about the periodic table.
Now one of the wonderful things about working as a science teacher at Underwood was that one had access to all manner of interesting chemicals, only some of which were dangerous and/or illegal for public schools to possess. One of the departments' prize possessions is locked away in the chemical locker. To all outward appearances, it is an empty cardboard box of the sort that might hold a coffeemaker. But what is inside this box is no mere appliance, but a brass cylinder and a pyrex jar. The jar is filled with paraffin wax and small silvery chunks of elemental sodium. The cylinder, which must be nearly as old as the school, has a screw top lid. Unscrewing it reveals a second, smaller container similar to the sodium jar, but this one contains elemental potassium. Neither of these elements is particularly safe, but the members of Underwood science department have made sure to protect the box because (as I posted a long time ago), mixing alkali metals with water provides one of the most explosive chemistry demonstrations around!
So my successor is working with his students on the periodic table or chemical elements or some such thing and decides he's going to show them the alkali metals. And he does the normal things: small piece of sodium (fizz), large piece of sodium (cool orange flame), small piece of potassium (bigger purple flame), larger piece of potassium (apparently this one broke the beaker!) And needless to say the kids are impressed! You can't really blame them...alkali metals are indeed quite awesome. (Just ask Humphry Davy.)
None of this would be a problem were it not for one small detail the teacher noticed only after his class left. After cleaning up the demonstration table, it was soon discovered that something was missing. Something that rhymes with "you're gassy...ummm..." Yes, that's right. As you should already have deduced from the title of this post, the potassium had been stolen. STOLEN, I SAY!
Before going any further, allow me to provide this convenient link to a material data safety sheet for elemental potassium. (here)
Key points to consider:
Stability Stable. Moisture and air-sensitive. Spontaneously combustible through the generation and ignition of hydrogen. Reacts violently with water and acids, alcohols, carbon monoxide. Store under oil.
Toxicology Very harmful by ingestion or through skin or eye contact. May cause irreversible eye damage. May cause serious skin burns.
This is a metal that should only be directly handled wearing safety goggles and gloves, and even then it's still not exactly safe due to its violent tendency to react with oxygen, particularly that found in water, and burst into flame. And now this incredibly unstable element was in the hands of equally unstable ninth graders who had no idea of the danger into which they had put themselves and the school.
Fortunately, they moved as a group to their next class and the teacher decided to be nice and asked them to return the potassium and if they did so before the end of lunch, it would be no questions asked.
Anyone care to guess if the kids took him up on this?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Of course not.
So now we have a situation. Somewhere in the middle of lunch, the teacher reports the situation to the head of the science department who (justifably) flips out over the missing potassium. Because of the safety issues involved, he in turn reports this to the principal and school security, who take it upon themselves to hold the science class in the lunchroom until this whole affair can be settled. As police searched student backpacks and escorted the kids to their lockers in search of the missing metal, the principal contacted the fire marshal who (justifiably) flips out further since no one knows how to neutralize a potassium fire. I would have assumed the fire marshal would know how to deal with flammable metals, but apparently this was not the case as he apparently started yelling at the hapless teacher that he sure as heck had better find out how to stop a potassium fire...RIGHT NOW! All in all, rather stressful.
The ending of the story is where things get hazy because it seems that the jar was in fact recovered in a student's locker and "most" of the potassium was still in it. Here's where my understanding gets a little hazy because if only "most" of it was recovered, then "some" of it might still be missing. Apparently, from what I gather, the students involved had disposed of some of the potassium in the toilet, which makes complete and total sense when one thinks about the list of possible disposal sites available to a typical freshman. I'm not sure if there were still some pieces missing beyond that or if the non-exploded potassium had been further subdivided prior to its recovery.
But the ending of the story is that as far as I know Underwood is now no longer in possession of its potassium as it seems almost a certainty the fire marshal confiscated it. The students involved in the theft were suspended, although I fear it will not discourage others from their thievery since the poor teacher, after trying so hard to come up with a lesson his students would enjoy and getting yelled at by every administrator, from the regional superintendent on down, had his laptop stolen within the next two days.
There is a small part of me that is tempted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but ultimately, I can only sympathize because hell, I've been where he is, and after all, if I had not left then perhaps that could have been me dealing with kleptomaniacal students and a sudden, dangerous potassium deficiency.
Ah, fall break. After spending 11 hours or so in the library, I'm pleased to report that I have finished an 8 page handwritten outline of my first graduate school paper. And all without seeing that shiny yellow orb you call "the sun." Sure, that may sound like a negative thing, but because of all the work I got done I can now write an account of the most fascinating and terrifying event to occur at Underwood High School since my departure. An event that will go down in history as the Great Alkali Metal Heist of 2006.
I have heard multiple versions of this story, both from my girlfriend (who is still teaching statistics) and the actual victim of the robbery, a well meaning fellow who has taken up residence in my old classroom on the second floor as well as my previous roster of ninth grade physical science classes. Unfortunately, despite all of this, some of the exact details remain rather garbled, so if anything does not make sense, feel free to e-mail and I will be more than glad to investigate further.
What is certain is the following: Readers of this blog are no doubt familiar with my old nemesis, the school district core curriculum. For those of you staring blankly, I will summarize by saying that one never knew until the day or two before school started precisely what content you would be expected to teach, much less the order in which they would be taught. The first year I taught, it did not exist for science so I got to teach what I wanted, when I wanted. The second year, it started with earth science and ended with physics and chemistry, with random digressions into astronomy and environmental science in the middle. The third year, it started with chemistry, moved to physics, and then ended with earth and space science. This year, it appears they kept the order relatively constant, meaning that my successor is right in the midst of teaching his students about the periodic table.
Now one of the wonderful things about working as a science teacher at Underwood was that one had access to all manner of interesting chemicals, only some of which were dangerous and/or illegal for public schools to possess. One of the departments' prize possessions is locked away in the chemical locker. To all outward appearances, it is an empty cardboard box of the sort that might hold a coffeemaker. But what is inside this box is no mere appliance, but a brass cylinder and a pyrex jar. The jar is filled with paraffin wax and small silvery chunks of elemental sodium. The cylinder, which must be nearly as old as the school, has a screw top lid. Unscrewing it reveals a second, smaller container similar to the sodium jar, but this one contains elemental potassium. Neither of these elements is particularly safe, but the members of Underwood science department have made sure to protect the box because (as I posted a long time ago), mixing alkali metals with water provides one of the most explosive chemistry demonstrations around!
So my successor is working with his students on the periodic table or chemical elements or some such thing and decides he's going to show them the alkali metals. And he does the normal things: small piece of sodium (fizz), large piece of sodium (cool orange flame), small piece of potassium (bigger purple flame), larger piece of potassium (apparently this one broke the beaker!) And needless to say the kids are impressed! You can't really blame them...alkali metals are indeed quite awesome. (Just ask Humphry Davy.)
None of this would be a problem were it not for one small detail the teacher noticed only after his class left. After cleaning up the demonstration table, it was soon discovered that something was missing. Something that rhymes with "you're gassy...ummm..." Yes, that's right. As you should already have deduced from the title of this post, the potassium had been stolen. STOLEN, I SAY!
Before going any further, allow me to provide this convenient link to a material data safety sheet for elemental potassium. (here)
Key points to consider:
Stability Stable. Moisture and air-sensitive. Spontaneously combustible through the generation and ignition of hydrogen. Reacts violently with water and acids, alcohols, carbon monoxide. Store under oil.
Toxicology Very harmful by ingestion or through skin or eye contact. May cause irreversible eye damage. May cause serious skin burns.
This is a metal that should only be directly handled wearing safety goggles and gloves, and even then it's still not exactly safe due to its violent tendency to react with oxygen, particularly that found in water, and burst into flame. And now this incredibly unstable element was in the hands of equally unstable ninth graders who had no idea of the danger into which they had put themselves and the school.
Fortunately, they moved as a group to their next class and the teacher decided to be nice and asked them to return the potassium and if they did so before the end of lunch, it would be no questions asked.
Anyone care to guess if the kids took him up on this?
Anyone?
Anyone?
Of course not.
So now we have a situation. Somewhere in the middle of lunch, the teacher reports the situation to the head of the science department who (justifably) flips out over the missing potassium. Because of the safety issues involved, he in turn reports this to the principal and school security, who take it upon themselves to hold the science class in the lunchroom until this whole affair can be settled. As police searched student backpacks and escorted the kids to their lockers in search of the missing metal, the principal contacted the fire marshal who (justifiably) flips out further since no one knows how to neutralize a potassium fire. I would have assumed the fire marshal would know how to deal with flammable metals, but apparently this was not the case as he apparently started yelling at the hapless teacher that he sure as heck had better find out how to stop a potassium fire...RIGHT NOW! All in all, rather stressful.
The ending of the story is where things get hazy because it seems that the jar was in fact recovered in a student's locker and "most" of the potassium was still in it. Here's where my understanding gets a little hazy because if only "most" of it was recovered, then "some" of it might still be missing. Apparently, from what I gather, the students involved had disposed of some of the potassium in the toilet, which makes complete and total sense when one thinks about the list of possible disposal sites available to a typical freshman. I'm not sure if there were still some pieces missing beyond that or if the non-exploded potassium had been further subdivided prior to its recovery.
But the ending of the story is that as far as I know Underwood is now no longer in possession of its potassium as it seems almost a certainty the fire marshal confiscated it. The students involved in the theft were suspended, although I fear it will not discourage others from their thievery since the poor teacher, after trying so hard to come up with a lesson his students would enjoy and getting yelled at by every administrator, from the regional superintendent on down, had his laptop stolen within the next two days.
There is a small part of me that is tempted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but ultimately, I can only sympathize because hell, I've been where he is, and after all, if I had not left then perhaps that could have been me dealing with kleptomaniacal students and a sudden, dangerous potassium deficiency.
