Stories in Biology Class

　　What does the word "Wacko" mean? Well, if you haven't lived in the United States, it is just slang for someone who is crazy. Now what do wackos have to do with this section of my book?

　　Of course everyone has different personalities and once again, of course that applies to teachers too. The personality of your teacher can determine the outcome of the entire school year and also your first impression of him or her. Which always leads to an impression of that person that you will hold forever. Once again, I digress. Back to the wackos. A wacko is someone who is "different" from the norm, someone who acts differently and thinks differently. I have had a number of these "wackos" in my career as a student. But none so violently stuck with me as this past year at Moeller.

　　This "wacko" was my biology teacher, Mr. Borman.

　　It turned out that all of my preconceived notions of the 55 minutes of biology we would have everyday was as wrong as possible.

　　Biology's supposed 2-4 hours of homework a night turned out to be the biggest joke that I had ever believed. What about Mr. Borman? He was just a nice old man, nothing like what I heard from the seniors.

　　I couldn't imagine him hurting anything. Throw in a little bit of simplicity and innocence and you have a firm grasp of Mr. Borman. One thing was still kind of true, Mr. Borman was not your average 60-year-old teacher. So he was affectionately dubbed a "wacko".

　　If you were to go and ask any of the kids in the freshmen class "one thing that defines Mr. Borman", everyone would say "his stories". I can also guarantee that the student would be able to name at least one story Mr. Borman told. I know everybody has had a teacher who likes to tell stories. A teacher that will stop class for a few minutes and tell this interesting and often humorous story that somehow relates to the lessons being taught.

　　Then after the class is completely off topic he will drag you back onto the lesson and continue on. Mr. Borman's love of telling stories was so indiscriminant of the time at which it showed it's flourishing nature that you would never know when to expect the next one. The course from our classroom discussion to a story to another story had so many u-turns and twists that you could never predict a thing. Mr. Borman could tell stories for the whole day, if he wanted.

　　I remember one day in particular. I had gotten a good four and a half hours of sleep the previous night.

　　After a grueling morning of particularly slow progression, I found myself dozing off at lunch. I barely found the energy to think about chewing the food in front of me. The sleep drilled itself constantly to the forefront of my academic focus.

　　After lunch, the battle had started to tilt in the favor of my sleep-deprived body. Sitting in the long 55 minute class of biology, I found that the discussions on bacteria and microorganisms and how they affect the system of evolution to be more affective as a tranquilizer than any lullaby. I soon had my head down on the table in the front row of the class as my eyelids drooped. After mentally debating for a good five minutes on whether or not I should close my eyes for a second, I finally decided that closing my eyes didn't mean falling asleep. So I laid my head down and closed my eyes, but never "fell asleep".

　　After what seemed like mere seconds, I jumped at the sound of laughter coming from all around me. Uh oh! I had fallen asleep.

　　This was not a polite chuckle at a joke the teacher made. This was uncontrollable laughter that brought pain to the stomach and blood to the face and slight suffocation. I looked up with drool patterns all over my chin. I glanced around to make sure that it wasn't me that was being laughed at and also to see if anyone saw my little nap in the front row.

　　It seemed that not one soul was even paying the slightest bit of attention to poor old Kuangyan. All eyes stared intently at good old Mr. Borman, who was standing at the head of the class grinning like a 3rd grader.