CHAPTER THREE - The Electrifying Experience of Phillip Booth
No one said a word. We were all staring at the words that had appeared on the board with huge eyes. I noticed that Heidi Kirchner’s eyes were open so wide, her face looked like a lobster with two boiled eggs in its eye sockets.
Mr. Marlin paced slowly to the front of the room. “I can see from the bored expressions on your faces—close your mouth, Poindexter, or a fly might go in and suffocate—that you don’t believe me.” He turned to stare at us, while Poindexter snapped his mouth closed. “I will therefore provide you with an example of exactly what I mean.” He turned to a nasty looking boy with a black eye and a scar from his chin to his nostril. “Mr. Steel, please tell us who discovered electricity.”
Steel just sat there speechless. Like all of us, his feeble mind was still trying to figure out how Mr. Marlin had written on the whiteboard with his pencil from the back of the room.
“I can tell by your quick response,” said Mr. Marlin, “that you consider the question too childish to answer.” He turned to a girl dressed all in black, who had a skull and crossbones painted on each one of her fingernails. “Miss Angel, perhaps you could answer the question for us. Who discovered electricity?”
Miss Angel just looked back at him with glazed eyes. “My, aren’t we all talkative today?” said Mr. Marlin. “You were all making so much noise that I couldn’t hear Miss Angel’s answer. But I am confident she said—as I’m sure each one of you would have said—that most historians agree that Benjamin Franklin discovered electricity.”
Suddenly a jump rope appeared in Mr. Marlin’s hand. Where had it come from? And what on earth was he going to do with it?
“It is now my sad duty,” said Mr. Marlin while unwinding the jump rope, “to inform you that you are wrong. Mr. Franklin did not discover electricity. A man named Phillip Booth did. He lived in Halifax, England, and made his discovery in the year 1703, many years before Franklin did his kite flying thing with the key. We are now going to visit Mr. Booth in 1703, and discover just exactly why I think science is dangerous.”
Mr. Marlin handed one end of the jump rope to a big boy whose nose looked like it had been broken in dozens of fights. “Mr. Tyson, would you please hold one end of this jump rope.” Tyson took it without comment. Mr. Marlin handed the other end to a girl with huge glasses wearing a purple dress that looked fifty years old. “And Miss Wall, would you mind holding the other end.” She also took it without saying a word.
“Now, if you will all please stand up and move your desks against the wall, to make room for the jump rope.” Slowly we all stood up, and with a great deal of noise, moved our desks back. This whole thing was getting weirder and weirder. What on earth did a jump rope have to do with some guy in England discovering electricity, or with the fact that science was supposed to be dangerous?
“Now, Mr. Tyson and Miss Wall, please start turning the jump rope, so that we can jump through it.” They started to swing the rope. At any other place or time, if they had done this Donny Poindexter and his crew would have had a heyday making fun of them for playing a girlie, baby game—but not here. No one said a word.
And then a collective gasp went up from the class. When we looked into the air inside the swinging jump rope, instead of seeing our classroom on the other side, we could see what looked like the English countryside!
“Now, Mr. Tyson and Miss Wall, please be good enough to let go of the rope.” They did—and each end of the rope just stayed in the air without falling! And the rope kept swinging around as if two invisible people on each end were still turning it!
“And now, class,” said Mr. Marlin, “please follow me. And please try to jump through without touching the rope. A rather nasty result might happen if you do.”
And then he jumped through the swinging rope as if he were a 6 year old girl who had been skipping rope all her life. We could see him smiling and waving to us in the English countryside on the other side of the rope.
“Come on through!” he shouted to us, in a voice that sounded as if it were coming from far away. “You first, Poindexter! Then Mr. Steel.”
Donny Poindexter looked red as a beet. He hadn’t jumped rope since kindergarten. But if he didn’t jump through, what might Mr. Marlin do to him? After all, the guy could do things that no one else could! What type of discipline would a teacher like that dish out? Mr. Marlin was obviously not someone you said ‘no’ to. Somehow you just couldn’t.
And so, Donny jumped through the rope, and landed on the other side next to Mr. Marlin. We could see him staring bug-eyed around him at the countryside.
Steel followed. When he jumped through, a piece of the rope touched his pants. We heard a crackling sound and a sizzle, and when Steel got to the other side in England, we could see a black line on his pants that looked like it had been burned on with a blowtorch. Steel started hopping around like he was on fire.
“I warned you,” said Mr. Marlin casually, as if it really didn’t matter. “Please try to avoid touching the rope, unless you enjoy the sensation of being burned.”
We each gulped in fear. This was crazy! I was standing in science class watching my fellow students jump through a rope swinging itself that could burn them, and staring into what looked like the English countryside! This couldn’t be happening!
As if he had read my mind, Mr. Marlin called out my name. “Mr. Drywater, don’t stand there so boredly. Come on through. And the rest of you, please follow. We must complete our journey before the end of class, you know.”
I swallowed hard, trying to fight down a feeling of panic. I was twirling my watch so fast it looked like an airplane propeller. Everyone was staring at me. If I didn’t go through that rope, I’d be labeled as ‘chicken’ and never be able to set foot in this school again. The goons in this class would see to that! But if I did go through, and hit that rope, then—
I closed my eyes and jumped through the rope, before I could think anymore. When I opened them, I was standing in the English countryside. Mr. Marlin was looking down at me, his eyes twinkling. “Well done, Mr. Drywater. Nothing like taking on a challenge with your eyes wide open!”
I stared around me in wonder, hardly able to believe what I was seeing. This really was the English countryside! I could feel a cool breeze on my face, and smelled the fragrance of a pig farm, not far away. The rope was still turning in mid air, and I could see my classroom through it, and my fellow students standing scared on the other side, getting ready to jump through. But scared or not, one by one the class jumped through the rope.
“Well done, class,” said Mr. Marlin when the last kid was through. “You made it through with only a few minor burns. Miss Snarch, I would advise you to use the creek over there to put out the fire in your dress. The rest of you, follow me.”
While Snarch ran screaming to the creek and jumped in, the rest of us followed Mr. Marlin up a gentle hill, heading toward a small cottage we could see at the top. “You needn’t worry about being noticed,” said Mr. Marlin. “No one here will see or hear you. So you can keep up your chatter if you’d like. Just hold it down so that you can hear me if I happen to call your name.”
None of us had said a word since the magic writing had appeared on the whiteboard. We followed Mr. Marlin stupidly, our brains still stretching, trying to figure out what was going on. He just smiled at us as if jumping through a magical jump rope into England happened every day.
“Here we are!” said Mr. Marlin with a flourish as we arrived at the gate of the cottage. The gate had chipped, white paint on it, and was partly broken. The cottage also looked old and run down, as if it hadn’t been fixed up in a long time. “Beautiful place, isn’t it?” said Mr. Marlin with a smile. “Makes you want to take a picture, doesn’t it? And maybe have it made into a puzzle or a mousepad?”
No one answered. Suddenly, the cottage door opened with a bang. A man stepped out. He was shabbily dressed, and was carrying a ladder. He was followed by a woman, equally shabby. She
had a permanent scowl on her face.
“Ah!” said Mr. Marlin. “Here is Mr. Phillip Booth and his lovely, pleasant wife. Such a happy couple!” He sighed contentedly.
As Snarch caught up with us, dripping from the creek water, the sour faced woman started talking to her husband, in a whining grumpy voice that matched her face.
“You no-good lout! You’re going to do it again, aren’t you? Waste the day away when there’s farm work to be done! Do you think the crop is going to harvest itself? Look at this dump! Our house is falling apart, our hay is rotting in the fields, and you go around with your silly ladder, babbling something about some unseen power source that everybody but you knows doesn’t exist!”
The man didn’t answer, but quietly put the ladder against the side of his cottage and climbed up to the grass-covered thatched roof. He stepped carefully across the roof to the very top, no doubt trying to avoid soft spots that would send him tumbling through and into the house below.
“And just what do you think you’re going to accomplish up there?” yelled his wife after him. “Get yourself killed, as like as not. And if you don’t fall, you’re just going to sit there like a fool and wait for a storm, like you do every day! I should have listened to mother and married that street beggar instead of you. At least he has a full cup of coins at the end of each day!”
Mr. Marlin turned to us, a pleasant smile on his grey-bearded face. “Mrs. Booth, as you can see, is a great support and helpmeet to her husband. Without her constant encouragement, it isn’t likely he could have made any progress in his discovery!”
“I’ve had just about all of this nonsense that I can take!” continued Mrs. Booth. “Either you come down here this instant, or I’m going into town and get the constable, and tell him you’ve finally gone completely bonkers. They’ll take you away to the asylum, you know! And who’ll do the farm work then?”
Mr. Booth didn’t answer, but just peered around hopefully at the sky. Apparently, he was indeed looking for a storm, just as his wife had said.
And he wasn’t disappointed. A dark cloud sat smudged across the sky, not far away. It seemed to be getting closer and darker every second. A happy, toothless smile spread over Mr. Booth’s face. He suddenly pulled a long, metal pole out of his shirt, and held it hopefully up toward the cloud.
“As you can see,” said Mr. Marlin, “Mr. Booth has produced a primitive lightning rod, which he hopes will attract a bolt of lightning to come his way. His experiments so far have convinced him that there is a hidden power in the lightning—a power we know is electricity. Now, let’s watch and see him in his moment of triumph, as he completes his grandest experiment!”
Mr. Booth was still holding the lightning rod up toward the cloud, expectantly. Mrs. Booth had headed off down the hill, apparently going to town to carry out her threat of getting the constable. She was mumbling and cursing under her breath, and I was grateful I couldn’t hear what she was saying.
The dark cloud was drawing nearer. It now loomed over us so large and frightening that we all looked around uneasily. It was clearly time to go inside, or under shelter somewhere. It was going to be pouring rain any minute!
But Mr. Marlin made no effort to move. His eyes were shining as he looked up at Mr. Booth, and he seemed to have forgotten that we were even there.
And then lightning struck. A brilliant bolt of it streaked across the sky, and struck Mr. Booth’s rod. He lit up like a Christmas tree. All his hair stuck straight out, and the tips of his shabby shoes caught fire. His eyes bulged in pain and shock, and he sizzled and crackled.
Then the lightning bolt disappeared. There was an ear-shattering clap of thunder, while Mr. Booth slumped to the roof of his cottage. The lightning rod slipped from his hands, rolled across the roof, and dropped into the yard below.
“As you can see,” said Mr. Marlin, raising his voice to be heard over the torrent of rain that suddenly poured all over us, “Mr. Booth has made his great discovery! He has confirmed that electricity does indeed exist. It is a thrilling moment of victory!”
Within a few seconds, we were all drenched. Staring up through the pouring rain at poor Mr. Booth, he looked anything but thrilled or victorious. In fact, he looked dead.
“I assure you, he is not dead,” said Mr. Marlin, as if he had read all of our minds. “He is merely … shall we say, shocked at the moment. He will recover in due time, and record his latest experiment in his journal, where he has kept careful notes of all his experiments on electricity. His encounter with lightning today will, admittedly, leave him a bit addled in his mind for the rest of his life, but such is the price of scientific progress!”
Mr. Marlin looked at us triumphantly, as if being drenched in an English countryside after watching someone be struck by lightning was a normal science class occurrence.
And then, strangely, everything seemed to go blurry. I couldn’t see the cottage clearly, or Mr. Marlin, or Poindexter, or anyone. There was a strange buzzing in my ears, and it suddenly felt as if my stomach were being pulled out my big toe.
Something was suddenly flashing in front of my eyes. It was a rope—the jump rope! It was swinging so fast it looked like when my mom beat eggs in the blender. I watched in fascination as one by one my classmates were sucked through the spinning rope at impossible speeds.
I could tell it was just about my turn! There was no way I could go through that thing without being chopped in half by the rope! I closed my eyes. Better not to see it coming.
And then suddenly all was quiet. I opened my eyes. We were back in our classroom. The cottage was gone, the jump rope was gone, the desks were back in place, and we were all sitting in them as if we had never left. Everyone was perfectly dry—even Snarch, who had jumped in the creek—and we were all staring at Mr. Marlin, who was standing at the head of the classroom, holding his pencil. The whiteboard behind him still carried its message:
I think science is DANGEROUS!
“Well, now, I think you all understand what I mean when I say that science is dangerous,” said Mr. Marlin casually. “Are there any questions?”
We all stared at him dumbly. We looked around at each other, uncertain what to say or do. Maybe I had dozed off and dreamed it all, while everybody else had stayed awake and listened to Mr. Marlin give a boring science lecture! It seemed impossible that we had been in the English countryside, being drenched by rain only a few seconds before!
Suddenly, a boy with glasses so thick they looked like foghorns, surprised us all by raising his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Geake?” said Mr. Marlin. “What is it?”
“Was I dreaming, or did we just all go through a jump rope to England and watch some guy get struck by lightning?” Geake’s nose curled up, as if even it couldn’t believe he had asked the question that was in all of our minds.
“Ah, what is a dream?” said Mr. Marlin grandly, spreading his arms wide. “And what is reality? Who can tell, really?” Then he turned to stare straight at me. “What do you think, Mr. Drywater?”
My mouth suddenly felt like it was stuffed with cotton. “Well …” I stammered, not sure what to say. I wrenched out Grandpa's pocket watch, and started twirling it again. “It kind of seemed like it happened. And it didn’t really seem like a dream at the time.”
To my surprise, I saw a look of relief come across the faces of almost every kid in the class. Each one of them must have been worried like me, that they had nodded off and dreamed it all, and snored in front of the whole class, and just woken up to find everyone looking at them.
“Profoundly said, Mr. Drywater,” said Mr. Marlin with a knowing look. “I can see that science has always been one of your favorite subjects.”
He turned toward the whiteboard, and with a wave of his hand, the writing disappeared. By now, we had already seen so many wild and fantastic things, that no one gasped.
“Mr. Marlin,” said a sudden voice behind me. Turning, I was shocked to see Donny Poindexter raising his hand. For him to be a
sking a question in class was astounding.
“Yes, Mr. Poindexter,” said Mr. Marlin with a smile.
“If Phillip Booth really did discover electricity, how come nobody knows about it?”
Mr. Marlin looked at Poindexter for a moment, making him squirm. Finally he said, “’Tis a sad tale, but it must be told. You may recall Mr. Booth’s loving and gentle wife, who gave him so much encouragement. Well, sad to say, she happened to burn his journal one night. Some say she did it on purpose out of malice, but of course, having seen her love and support for her husband, we know this is not the case.”
“So, naturally, there was nothing for Mr. Booth to show the world about his discovery and his experiments. Meanwhile, he was left so addled by his encounter with lightning that he began to imagine soon thereafter that he was a rabbit rather than a man. He spent most of his time munching on carrots and not saying anything, since as we all know, rabbits are very quiet creatures. Have you ever heard a rabbit talk, Miss White?” Mr. Marlin had suddenly turned on a girl at the back of the class who had a bad case of chapped lips.
“No,” she squeaked in a whisper.
“Neither have I,” replied Mr. Marlin calmly.
Suddenly the bell rang, bringing us crashing back to reality. “Please take a science text book on your way out,” said Mr. Marlin unexpectedly, waving to a table full of text books next to the door that none of us had noticed being there before. The books looked like the normal, boring kind of books they always hand out on the first day of class. Each one said ‘SCIENCE!’ on the cover in bold orange letters—an obvious effort to make the dull contents of the book more attractive.
Mr. Marlin turned to the whiteboard and began to erase it, even though there was nothing to erase. He seemed to have completely forgotten that we even existed. Slowly we got out of our chairs and headed out the door, picking up a book on our way. No one said anything.
Once we were out in the hall, we just all looked at each other with silly grins on our faces. “That was wild!” said Donny Poindexter to no one in particular. And then he said something that no would have ever expected him to say: “I can’t wait until science class tomorrow!”
My Science Teacher is a Wizard Page 3