My Childhood Understanding of Chemistry

Science is organized knowledge, said Herbert Spence. It really needs to be better organized to teach it to an 8-year-old. I can't remember which grade I was in when I learned about atoms. I loved science at the time; this discovery would create a paranoia that took some time to shake.

"Everything in the world is made up of atoms," explained my teacher. "Atoms are so small that you can't see them. But everything -- your desk, your food, even you -- is made of millions of tiny atoms." She went on to explain that all of these atoms combined to make elements, which made everything else, etc. What we saw all around us were really millions of atoms all pressed together.

I stared at my hands and my desk in amazement, trying to see all the little atoms. A good student, I raised my hand.

"How do we know the atoms are there if we can't see them?" I asked.

I think she told me about the electron microscope, but what really got my attention was her explanation of the power in atoms.

"How many of you have heard of the atomic bomb?"

Half of the class' hands went up.

"Scientists figured out how to split an atom in the 1940s. When you split an atom, it releases a lot of energy. They created a bomb from splitting an atom."

I'm sure she meant this to demonstrate the power of tiny atoms, or something like that. She failed to explain that it was a uranium atom that created the atomic bomb. To be honest, I don't remember the rest of the lesson. I was terrified.

I had seen my dad's old World War II movies, where American planes dropped "the A-bomb" on Japan and my dad telling me how those bombs wiped out Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

My tiny mind began piecing this information together. Everything was made of atoms. Splitting an atom causes an explosion, an explosion that could wipe out whole cities like they were made of Tinker Toys.

If everything was made of atoms, what if I accidentally split one while cutting paper snowflakes? What if my mom accidentally split one while cutting carrots for my lunch?! Our whole house would explode just because I wanted carrots! Was air made of atoms? What if I bumped into an errant atom and smashed it?

I could see what would happen:

OH. MY. GOD. WE WERE ALL GOING TO DIE!

I sat very still the rest of the day. I didn't want to accidentally split atoms. I anxiously watched my mother make dinner that night, fearing every time she cut a celery stick or sliced an apple there would be a big KABOOM! and we would all be goners.

This went on for weeks. I walked lightly, chewed slowly, and for God's sake did not cut anything. I figured if I was really careful I could avoid making myself the next Doomsday Device.

I did eventually realize that life could carry on normally without carelessly causing a nuclear holocaust. I can't remember if it was my mother, my father, or perhaps some confused science teacher years later who explained how exactly an atom is split and put to rest an old fear.

But for God's sake, when you have children, don't explain atoms and atom bombs to them in the same lesson, skipping crucial years of chemistry and physics.