Professor Chuckrow, and the A.P Physics class races.

I was in the turbo fast physics class in High School. it was supposed to be the class for students on a fast track to be science stars. so the assumption was that it needed no real policing since the kids were mostly book worms and and an exciting day was getting to light a Bunsen Burner. We were in an attic-like classroom up in the oldest part of the school. it was at least 150 years old and built of large stones and wooden rafters. the professor, Dr. Chuckrow was a very weird, very eccentric genius type of guy. he built his own car, which really looked home made. he made his own clothes and tied his pants up with shoe laces. and he dared the biggest athletes to punch him as hard as they could in his short, fat gut. it was pretty impressive. he studied some kind of martial art that allowed him the "inner chi" and centering to take heavy punches, and we loved to test him on it.

The best part of the class, beside figuring out the rotational acceleration of Jupiter's moons on my own, was the fact that Dr. Chuckrow paid absolutely NO attention to what we were doing. there were four guys who, like me, didn't really fit the usual description of the A.P. student. we were the under achieving, over achievers. and we could care less about school. so, after exhausting all the possible means of amusement in the back row of the class, we realized that there was an awesomely maze-like route that would lead you from the north exit door of the classroom, down 3 flights of dungeon like stairs, across a dark winding hallway and then back up another stairs to the south exit door. basically there was a lap between the door. so we started racing this lap, a person would get up and calmly walk to one of the doors, then when they exited, we would start a stop watch to see how long it took to get to the other door.

it took a lot of familiarity with the route, and a lot of good traction to power yourself through all the complex maneuvers. from inside the class you could usually hear the squeaks of the sneakers and the sound of bounding steps up and down the stairs, then the opposite door would bang open, and the racer would calmly make their way back to their seat, usually panting and red-faced. it was a great sport, and probably good exercise. it probably looked a lot like the race in Chariots of Fire where the two guys race through the school yard and try to beat the large chiming clock. only imagine an even windier route.

until one day, when i had a very unfortunate high speed collision with the old french teacher Madame Spodheim. this was a VERY grumpy old lady who clearly hated kids. all of her french papers flew all over the place and she almost fell backwards down the stairs.

my friends said that you could here her yell from inside the class. "Brrring out ze Guillotine!!!"