Knowledge is power, not the appearance.

A fatal experience from the subject chemistry, which at the beginning of great expectations in itself. After I had changed the school where the lower four classes had been established, and had transferred to the so-called middle school, a new subject, the chemistry, awaited me. The first lesson and the following lessons were still quite far from my expectations. They were ideas about experiments and experiments with fire and water. The classroom was very different in its appearance from the other classrooms. Here one missed the smell of the floors cleaned daily with oil shavings. The large experimental table was the outstanding feature, which immediately reminded of a laboratory. It was also the smell of this room, which had a special flair, and on some days offered a completely different nuance. The seats on the benches were scattered, with each on entering the room the first thing was to get a seat in the front rows, because you wanted to get everything exactly.
Instead of exciting experiments, one first had to deal with the smallest particles of matter, with molecules and atoms. Nevertheless, I was always looking forward to the day when this lesson was on the timetable. On such a day, the usual noise level in the classroom reigned until our teacher, Miss Maier, entered the room. Immediately, the noise ebbed away, until the last whisper to the neighbors was silenced. Miss Maier performed her usual repertoire, running her hand sideways over her clothes as if to make sure that her pleated skirt had its correct fit before posting posts behind the desk. On this day, we were allowed to set up for the first time in front of the large experimental table, were already provided on some small equipment.
First of all, some formulas were written on the blackboard to remind people of what they had learned. The now made ready Bunsen burner showed a bluish flame. Judging from that, there would be a real experiment that day, that’s how my thoughts were. Something was being prepared and operations were going on. It steamed and hissed in the small flat glass bowl, which was heated with its contents above the flame, and then placed on the table. Apparently it was the end result of the experiment, which was now seen in the shell.
Miss Maier looked around the room, motioned to the glass bowl with her hand, and asked the question … “And what have we won for a substance?” Casually, her hand pointed to the formula on the board.
Anyone who understood this formula or had it in their head should now know the result. I had not understood this formula and did not know what was behind the letters and characters, a right arrow, as well as clip on, clip on, hid. But nevertheless I was sure that I could already name this material in the small glass bowl alone.
The same pale yellowish powder my mother used in the household. She used it, dissolved in water, to preserve fresh chicken eggs, to preserve them in a stone pot for a long time. Almost all arms flew up with outstretched fingers, to make known, I know it. Also, I reported in the usual way to signal my supposed knowledge. Since I usually did not usually appear, Miss Maier pointed to me, I should say the answer.
I said in a convincing voice … that’s a guarantee. There was silence in the room for a second, until the first restrained laughs were heard. My answer triggered a true salmon volley in the class. Miss Maier narrowed her eyes and let out a loud, calm, please, raising her arms still conjuring. I would have loved to become invisible now. I could only crumble into the back row. Meanwhile, the correct answer was called several times as in a chorus by the other students. My grade in this subject was unfortunately always set very low in the certificate. The realization was clear to me, only knowledge is power and not the appearance.

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