Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories.
–––
One of my favorite classes during my junior year in high school was chemistry. It was taught by a man named Cecil Riser. The chemistry classroom was actually a suite of two adjoining rooms. One was where we had our daily classes and the other was our chemistry lab. It was full of all sorts of chemicals, as well as Bunsen burners, test tube racks and things like that.
On the very first day, we all received two books. One was a hardbound textbook. The other was a softbound “workbook” which we used in the laboratory to record all of our lab tests and other similar information.
None of us students had ever been in a chemistry lab before so Mr. Riser warned us that some of the chemicals could be dangerous if mishandled. He made it clear to all of us that there should never be any horseplay in the lab.
Now fast-forward three months or so to the last day of school before our Christmas break. We were all in the laboratory doing some sort of test. I think we were all feeling a little frisky, as we were about to start enjoying the holiday break.
Then suddenly I heard a boy named Mike Fox let out a yell. His workbook was open lying next to his Bunsen burner, when one of the boys, I think it was Bill Worthington, poured some sort of liquid all over the pages.
We all had a good laugh as Mike laid his workbook atop the heating unit in our classroom. That would be a good place for it to dry out during the holiday break.
When the Christmas break was over in January and we all went back to school, one of the first things Mike did was to check on that workbook. By golly, the pages were as dry as could be, so Mike put the workbook back in his locker.
A few days later, we had a lab session, and we all took our workbooks into the lab. When Mike started thumbing through his book, the pages began to fall apart and pieces of paper fell to the floor. I mean, there were pieces of paper everywhere. Some were small, almost like snowflakes. Others were about the size of a quarter. The pages just disintegrated before our eyes.
You see, the stuff that Bill Worthington poured on Mike’s lab book was some kind of acid, and it made the pages fall apart when Mike thumbed through them. I wish you could have seen Bill laugh.
Needless to say, Mr. Riser didn’t think it was funny. In fact, I think that was the only time I ever saw him lose his composure. He made his displeasure clear to all of us, and that was the last horseplay I ever saw in the chemistry lab.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at
williamboyd514@gmail.com