The crowd looked up as the front door was slammed open---the opened door to Mr. Turner the science teacher's room, released a foul-smelling scent detectable even from meters away. Taking a deep breath, I stepped in the classroom with others, ready for our first frog dissection experiment.
From the first day in Turner's class, we knew that if he wasn't in the education field, he would surely become a leader in a high-tech science lab, or, a perfect epitome for a world war II general of the army. Turner has exceptional comedy talents, strong and often mocking wit, yet surprisingly serious on formal occasions. Unlike the usual casualness, the classroom was now levitating awkward silence--all because of Turner. His face was completely devoid of the normally amiable smile, but rather a cold, stern expression with a seriousness that cannot be mistaken.
"Dissection requires absolute concentration and neat preciseness." he said, with his mouth the only part of his body that was actually moving. "It certainly is dangerous, obviously, and therefore, all of you MUST follow the instructions you hear...I repeat...You Must follow the instructions you hear...otherwise---"
"BANG!!" A metal dissection tray cracked in agony as Turner's scalpel nearly penetrated its bottom. "The consequences may not be too pleasant to hear." Finally, he forced a friendly smile, though the curled upper lips and belligerent face seemed to suggest otherwise.
My hands were shaking silently. I could feel the perspiration soaking through the entire body. After having the goggles and lab coat on, I stared blankly down at the unconscious frog on the cold plate. Just as I began wondering about the last meal my soon-to-be dissection subject had had, the lab experiment had begun.
The procedures were bellowed out with no restraint of volume and speed, and I was slow to react. Instantly, I sank into a dilemma---Should I call for a break? Or should I simply continue with no idea...