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My junior year in high school, I had a very interesting relationship with my chemistry teacher. She was a brilliant woman who desperately wanted to stuff my brain with thousands of facts and theories about Avogadro and his infamous mole. However, I was the student who liked to challenge the teacher. I did not just sit back and accept all this nonsense simply because Mrs. Alexander said this was this and that was that. I wanted to know why? How? And I was never afraid to ask either. I remember one particular day; we were learning how to predict chemical reactions. I don’t know if I was having a brain fart that day, but not a word that escaped Mrs. A’s lips made sense to me. So, I began asking questions. I told Mrs. Alexander I didn’t understand and I asked her to explain the concepts again. I wanted to know why a set of reactants would form certain products and how to make these predictions. I could tell Mrs. Alexander was getting irritated and her patience was burning up, but that did not stop my prodding. I was determined to continue asking questions until I understood every word she said. But apparently she did not want to deal with my interrogation; the next thing that exploded out of her mouth was not chemi