by Mike Kent
‘Convection’s a bit simple, isn’t it?’ he said, throwing his pad down on the bench with an ominous slap.
‘Not really. I’m assuming this group is a class of ten year olds,’ said Duggan quickly. ‘Since I shall be teaching primary children and since it is highly likely that I shall be teaching a junior class on my first teaching practice, it seemed a reasonable idea to work out a lesson for that age group.’
‘I see lad. All right, go on.’ Dr Frost seemed, for the moment, to have lost a round.
‘Right then. Well, I expect some of you have put a poker in the fire. If you put a poker in the fire…’
‘It gets bloody hot!’ retorted Dr Frost. ‘That’s conduction, not convection.’
‘I know,’ said Duggan. ‘I was going to lead on to convection. I was just mentioning conduction because…’
‘Don’t bother. We’ll graciously assume we have been taught that.’
‘Right. Well then, when heat travels by convection the molecules don’t stay in one place..’
‘We’re assuming we’ve been taught about molecules, are we?’
‘Well yes, I…’
‘We’re assuming quite a lot, aren’t we?’
‘Well, we have to, really. Unless I start off a new topic, we have to assume certain things. Anyway, in convection the molecules don’t all stay in one place. That is, they do in conduction, but not in convection. Almost, anyway.’
‘Oh come on, lad,’ groaned Dr Frost, gazing out of the window with a bored expression on his face. ‘We’ve got fifteen minutes left and it would be nice if we learned something. Just get on with it.’
‘Well, we can show convection quite easily by using a beaker of water like this to see the movement of the molecules. To do that, I’m going to use these purple crystals. Does anyone know what they’re called?’
Three hands were raised in the air.
‘I presume you wouldn’t ask a class of ten year olds what they’re called?’ interrupted Dr Frost.
‘I might do, Sir. It would depend…’
‘There would be very little point, lad. They probably wouldn’t recognise water, let alone crystals of potassium permanganate.’
Charlton’s hand shot in the air and Duggan looked across at him and nodded.
‘They’re crystals of potassium permanganate,’ Charlton said proudly.
‘I know. Dr Frost has just mentioned that. I don’t see why…’
‘You asked us a question,’ said Charlton. ‘You asked us what the crystals were called.’
‘I know, but Dr Frost has just answered it.’
‘Has he? Oh.’ Charlton looked distinctly disappointed.
‘For God’s sake listen to the lesson, Charlton,’ rasped Dr Frost. ‘Get on with it, Phillips.’
‘Right. Well, first we wrap the crystals in a tiny piece of gauze and drop it carefully into a beakerful of water. If we heat the beaker, we’ll soon see a sort of continuous motion. A tiny stream of purple, that is. It proves that firstly the molecules are moving and secondly that they move in a circle. We called this circle convection,’ he added proudly.
He paused to glance at Dr Frost, who was absent-mindedly trimming his fingernails with a pair of dissecting scissors. Barton yawned. Daines looked at his watch, held it to his ear and then shook it vigorously. Duggan struggled self-consciously to the end of his lesson introduction.
‘Well, that’s the…er.. theory of convection in a nutshell, really. Of course, this principle is behind hot water systems, land and sea breezes at the seaside, and so on. Depending on whether it’s night time. Or daytime, of course, as the case may be. I assume I would teach you that another day. Now we’ll try the experiment…’
‘That’s it then, is it? asked Dr Frost in wonder.
‘Well basically… yes. But there’s the experiment to do. And the summing up. And we can…’
‘We can’t, laddie, we can’t. The class would be in uproar by now. For heaven’s sake put some enthusiasm into it. Do you seriously think they’re going to know what you’re talking about when you rabbit on about the continuous motion of molecules?’
‘I suppose they might not,’ Duggan agreed miserably.
‘Then why mention it, lad? It just won’t do at all. There’s no point in waffling about the weather at the seaside while you’re making pretty colours with a handful of magic crystals and a pot of water. Ask ‘em a few questions first.’
‘But you told Daines not to..’
‘Never mind what I told Daines, lad. His lesson was longer than yours. If you’re going to teach ten year olds some science you’ve got to do it properly. Make ‘em sit up and listen. Once they know your crystals aren’t going to blow up or make a disgusting smell they won’t be interested. Now what’s this experiment they’re going to do?’
‘Well actually, I couldn’t get enough stuff for everybody to do the experiment,’ Duggan apologised, sorting through the equipment he had in front of him. ‘If you’d like to come round the front bench I’ll demonstrate it to you instead.’
‘Couldn’t get enough stuff? What stuff?’
‘Well, things like beakers and…’
‘Beakers? There’s plenty in the stock cupboard? How many do you want, for God’s sake?’
‘Well, I asked Pat…’
‘Pat?’
‘One of the lab technicians. I asked him…’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday. He hadn’t got the right keys with him and he was a bit pushed for time.’
‘Really? And is this how you’re going to carry on in a school? Although I suggest it’s highly unlikely, you might just have a future Newton or Boyle or Madame Curie gazing admiringly at you amongst the children you’re teaching. Are you going to tell Newton or Boyle or Curie that they can’t do any experiments today because Pat hasn’t managed to get any equipment out? We might have to write this lesson off as one we’d all rather forget. At least, that’s what I think. I wonder what the children think? Children, what do you think?’
He turned to the group and raised his eyebrows in question.
‘I think it’s quite interesting, actually,’ said Barton. ‘It’s about my level.’
‘Is it, Barton? Yes, well, I suppose it does require the sort of brain power you’d use for connecting a bulb to a battery. Who agrees with Barton?’
Hands lifted tentatively into the air. Dr Frost sighed and nodded. ‘Very well, Phillips. The verdict is on your side. Go on, lad. I suppose you’d better show us your experiment.’
Duggan placed a flask in a wooden holder while everybody moved cautiously to the front. He tightened the screw, lit a Bunsen burner, and placed it carefully underneath the flask.
‘Now then,’ he said, ‘We drop the crystals in here. I’ve wrapped them in a small piece of foil to stop them streaming too quickly, and…’
‘One moment, lad,’ said Dr Frost quickly. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt again, but it’s no good having them all grouped around you like that, or you’ll find a few mischievous blighters behind you who don’t give a damn about convection. Or you, for that matter.’
‘Please Sir,’ said Charlton loudly, ‘I can’t see what’s happening to the water. The Bunsen flame isn’t adjusted properly.’
‘It’s bubbling, Charlton,’ Dr Frost replied. ‘Liquids tend to do that when they’re hot.’
‘Thank you very much, Sir.’
Duggan looked down at the flask. A thin coating of soot from the Bunsen flame had covered the bottom of it, and he tore off a length of paper towel to wipe it away. The flask was hotter than he had expected, his trembling fingers jolted the stand, and the tripod lurched sideways. With a spectacular crash, the flask hit the bench and split in two, splashing its contents over everyone standing nearest the front. Duggan gazed at the expanding purple puddle enveloping his notebook and sighed d
eeply.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake…’ he muttered.
‘I’m afraid he’s unlikely to help you, Phillips,’ said Dr Frost, gazing at his immaculate white laboratory coat now flecked with tiny purple spots. ‘This really isn’t your day, is it? You’ve broken a flask, wasted an expensive chemical, covered your notebook in purple and burned the children nearest you. Not to mention the danger of broken glass. On current form, you could give up the idea of teaching and start your own demolition firm instead.’
There was a murmur of activity outside the laboratory and Dr Frost glanced at the clock.
‘Oh well, saved by the bell, Phillips. You’ll be relieved to know it’s now lunchtime. We’ll leave it at that. Get the mess cleared up, will you?’
‘There’s a question I’d like to ask,’ said Daines, like an embarrassing guest at a party. ‘What you did.. or what you were going to do, is fairly simple. If you were going to do something about heating liquids, wouldn’t it have been better to do something like Newton’s Law of Cooling? Then we could all have drawn a very simple curve to illustrate it. It’s only an idea, of course.’
‘You seem to forget I’m doing the primary course,’ said Duggan unhappily, picking up pieces of broken glass with a pair of tongs.
‘Yes, I know, but…’
‘I think he’s had enough for one morning,’ said Dr Frost in a softer voice. ‘Never mind, Phillips. It’s best to get these things settled before you actually get out on teaching practice. At least you’ll know what to expect. It’ll be a lot easier next time, but it’s your own fault for not preparing properly.’
He removed his stained coat, looked at it sadly, and hung it on a peg by the door.
‘At least you were original,’ he continued. ‘I’ve had flasks dropped by students shaking like leaves. I’ve had a transformer dropped on my foot. I’ve even had a fool who gave me an electric shock. But I have to admit I’ve never been sprayed with potassium permanganate before.’
Duggan reddened with embarrassment.
‘Don’t worry lad, I won’t send you the dry cleaning bill. This time. Now go and get some lunch, all of you. Last one out shut the door. It’s Tuesday and I’ve got to go home to feed the rottweiler. I think he gets better cuts of meat than I do. Damn dog is just like one of the family.’
We felt we knew which one.
FEBRUARY
HOPPING WITH THE FRESHERS
College dances at St James’s were important events on the social calendar, and we discovered that at least two were held every term, ranging from the grand formality of the annual Christmas Ball, to the unfettered exuberance of the Freshers’ Hops, which were essentially a guaranteed method for new students to meet partners of the opposite sex.
Admission was usually by ticket only, and since some of the dances weren’t particularly well attended, members of the social committee were often bribed to sell tickets with the promise of free lager, the quantity being dependent on the number of tickets sold. Ticket sellers faced a hard task; making most students part with even a small proportion of their grants was like squeezing blood from a stone. Tickets were usually sold in the early evening, when most rooms would be occupied by students writing up lecture notes and there was a greater chance of a sale.
However, this time of day also caused an additional headache for the sellers. Since the rooms were so close together, it was possible to knock on one door and mistakenly be answered from at least three others. One unfortunate ticket seller had answered what he’d taken to be a welcoming invitation and then realised he’d entered the wrong room when he found the occupant partly clothed and in a compromising position with his girl friend. Apologising profusely, he’d offered two free tickets as compensation for disturbance at a critical moment, but the offer was turned down because the student had been unable to think of a handy place to store the tickets at that particular moment in time.
Bands were often a problem, too. Either they played so loudly it wasn’t worth approaching a partner because she wouldn’t hear you anyway, or they didn’t play anything anybody could dance to. Sometimes, they even played out of tune, and this seemed dependent on how cheap they had been to hire, or how much they had drunk as the evening wore on.
The event Duggan and I were currently considering was known, a little optimistically, as the February Fun Frolic, held in the college gymnasium. Because the gymnasium was notoriously cold in the winter months we would not have considered attending under normal circumstances, but the offer of two very cheap tickets from Gerry was very tempting.
‘You can have them at less than half price,’ he offered graciously, tossing them onto Duggan’s bed. ‘I was going to bring Melanie but I can’t be bothered to drag her up here and then get her back home again to Watford in this weather.’
‘Why don’t you let her sleep in your room?’ Duggan suggested.
‘You would think of that.’
‘I think of that most of the time. Let her sleep in my room, then. She can kip in the armchair and I’ll look the other way when she gets undressed.’
‘She’s not like that.’
‘What, you mean she never undresses?’
‘No, I mean she’s just not like that.’
‘Well what are you going out with her for?’
‘To keep her away from sods like you.’
‘How much do you want for the tickets?’ I asked.
‘Not much. Five bob each.’
Duggan sat bolt upright on the bed. ‘Five bob? My God, who’s coming? The Queen?’
‘It’s a fair offer. Almost half price. I paid seven and six each for them.’
‘That was a bit silly, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, the band’s expensive.’
‘Who’s playing, then?’
Gerry scratched his chin absent-mindedly. ‘I’m not absolutely certain, but as far as I recall it’s Tony and his Tijuana Six.’
Duggan groaned loudly. ‘Well, who would have guessed. The motto of the social committee runs true to form. If you can’t get a proper band, you can always get Italian Tony and his Tijuana Six. Even if every other band in the world is out on a gig, Tony and his Tijuana all-stars will be sitting and waiting for St James’s to ring.’
‘I don’t think they’ve played here that often,’ said Gerry.
‘Who played at the Hoedown?’
‘Well yes, they did play at that. I grant you that one.’
‘Who played at the Firework Fiesta?’
‘Okay. I think they did that..’
‘Who played at the fancy dress thing?’
‘Did they do that one? I didn’t realise.’
‘Who played at…’
‘Do you want my tickets or not?’
‘We’ll give you half a crown each,’ I offered.
‘Four and six,’ said Gerry firmly.
‘Four bob.’
‘Okay, Four bob. And I’m crippling myself to manage it.’
‘I know, and we sympathise,’ said Duggan. ‘We’re the ones who’ve got to suffer the Frolic, though.’
‘I’m sure you’ll have a great time.’
‘Thank you. We’re grateful for your optimism.’
On the Saturday morning of the dance, a small team of volunteers from the social committee had spent several hours decorating the gymnasium wallbars and apparatus with colourful streamers, balloons and banners as usual, until the chairman of the group had fallen off a ladder and injured his leg. This had caused a great deal of concern because he was not only the mastermind behind the hall decorations, but also due to play in a hockey match that afternoon. Since the team was desperately short of decent players, a hasty consultation with the hockey captain ended with a suggestion that the chairman could be propped up in the goal with a splint on his leg, until the moans from the invalid suggested this wasn’t really a very pract
ical idea.
As usual, a small room adjacent to the stage had been converted into a makeshift bar, with three trestle tables along its length for drinks, mugs and glasses. On all these occasions, tickets were posted to other colleges within a twenty five mile radius, partly to ensure a good balance of female company and partly to pay off a debt from the last event, when things had got a little out of hand and a table complete with a large number of hired glasses had been broken beyond repair.
Very early on in our college lives, Duggan, Gerry and I had discovered it was never worth going to a college dance until the thing was properly under way. Unfortunately, all the other new students had quickly realised that as well, and now, apart from the social calendar’s major and important dances, everyone invariably turned up during the same twenty minutes. This placed enormous strain on the bar, and since it was normally the first port of call, new bar hands always had to be recruited on the spot. The only qualification for this work was the ability to empty a bottle into a glass, and during this hectic period a customer would often be given the wrong drink, or a glass filled from a variety of bottles by each obliging helper. At the most recent dance, the problem had been resolved by the president of the student union, a massive scrum-half, moving in swiftly and demanding an orderly queue. Duggan’s room overlooked the hall, and he was in a good position to judge when the noise had reached a suitably inviting level.
‘It doesn’t sound too great at the moment. We’ll give it another half hour,’ he said, looking at his watch and then peering among the clothes in his wardrobe. ‘At least until they get to the first hokey-cokey. We’ll hear when they do.’
‘What are you going to wear?’ I asked.
