Teaching Tales: Acid Belly

This lab captured student interest, always a good thing. They were going to extract DNA from an onion and detect it with a reagent containing a strong acid. Since lab coats were not mandatory, I spent quite some time at the beginning of the lab explaining the procedure and, especially, the safety precautions to be taken when using strong acids.

“Turn around and look at the back of the lab,” I instructed, “See the hood on your right? That’s where you’ll find the acid. Be sure you pipette it in the hood. Bring the container for the acid to the hood; do not fill the pipette and then carry it, dripping, around the lab.” I began to demonstrate, but was distracted by a young man in the front row who stood up and removed his shirt, shaking it furiously as he stood there bare-chested.

 Student or Stripper?

“Marcus, what are you doing?”

“Uh, well, I was sitting on the grass before class and I think a bug got in my shirt,” he answered, appearing not to be embarrassed in the least.

The class giggled.

“Okay, well, did you get it out?”

 “Yeah, I don’t see it.”

“Then please put your shirt on again,” I began to laugh, “I must admit. I’ve had students do all kinds of things in class, but none has ever done that. I don’t actually remember where I was in the lecture.”

A student in the back helpfully shouted out, “You were telling us how to use acid.”

 Acidic Accident

“Thanks,” I answered and continued my explanation of safety procedures. When I was done, the students began chopping and grinding onions, hoping to produce DNA. The lab smelled like a kitchen. I made sure everyone knew what they were doing and sat down to grade the quizzes they had just completed when Nick interrupted me.

“Dr. Crocker, my stomach itches,” he complained.

I looked up to find the offending body part in my immediate line of sight. “Nick, there’s a hole in your shirt.”

“Is there? I don’t think it was there this morning.” He looked down with a frown.

I noticed a sour smell and a wisp of smoke coming from the edge of the hole. “You got acid on your shirt. Take it off and rinse your stomach with lots of water.”

I caught Marcus’s eye. “Marcus, go with Nick to the men’s room and make sure he gets himself clean.”

Marcus’s lab partner became interested, “Can I go too? I’m wearing an extra shirt that Nick can use.”

The young men exited the room, and I called the class to attention, warning them again of the hazards of working with acids.

 Jail Time Possible

After class, Marcus approached me with a worried look. I thought he was probably going to apologize for stripping off during class. Instead, he shared a problem. 

“Dr. Crocker, I’m most likely not going to be in class for the next couple of weeks.” 

I frowned, “Why not? You’re a good student, and that will for sure mess up your grades.” 

He hung his head, “I won’t have a choice. You see, I was driving a bit too fast and got a reckless driving ticket.” Here, Marcus hesitated, “Actually, I was going a lot too fast, and it wasn’t the first time. I’m probably going to jail.”

“Marcus, that’s terrible! How fast were you going?”

“They clocked me at 126.”

“Are you going to do it again?” 

Here his eyes flew up to meet mine, “Oh no, no way! My family is shattered. They have to drive me everywhere because my license was suspended, and now, I’m going to jail. I learned my lesson.”

 Saved by the Prof

I thought for a minute, “When’s the court date? Would it help if I came and told the judge that missing two weeks would mess up your grades and maybe even prevent you from getting into medical school?”

“It’s Monday at 9 am. Would you do that?”

 “Sure, I’m free then. Ask your lawyer if it would help. If it might, I’ll be there.”

The next day, Marcus emailed me to say it would help. I went, and it did. Marcus had to do jail time, but because of my intervention, he was allowed to serve six weekends, instead of two solid weeks, meaning his schooling was not affected. He assured me that he would never speed again.