Lesson Thirteen: That Sucks!

     Six rows of five desks each.  Each desk covered with small containers of glue, colored construction paper, scissors, letters and a container of colored glitter.  All in preparation for today’s project in Mrs. Hanberry’s class. 

     The children will be so excited.  This is my favorite project of the year.  Creating posters of what they think they’ll be like in 20 years.  It’s always a surprise to their parents to see what they think they’ll be like and interestingly some of them turn out to be right.  These second graders are so imaginative and fun!  So thought Gladis Hanberry. 

     Although thought by many of her peers to be a prude, serious and somewhat harsh, deep down inside she was human.  She even chuckled on occasion, but never in the presence of others.  Her second graders were her brood.  Like a mother hen, Gladis kept a close watch on her “chicks”. 

     Above Gladis’ classroom, Thornton Greenlove stood talking with Jon E. Mopp.  They were in the attic space where all of the HVAC systems were housed.  Thornton was a long-time friend of Jon.  He’d been having some problems with one of his heating units and since he knew Jon had been the head custodian at that building years before, he thought that maybe Jon could shed some light on this antiquated system. 

     Jon gladly came by to see what he could do.  Standing on the catwalks that spanned the attic and covered much of the lowered ceiling that covered each room below, Jon discussed with Thornton what problems he’d been having.

     “I just can’t seem to get any heat or air to blow into Hanberry’s classroom,” Thornton said. 

     “Have you checked the overhead vents to see if she’s covered them with anything?” Jon asked.

     “Of course knot head.  That’s the first thing I did!”

     “What about the heating unit?  Does it turn on?”

     “Yup.  Works just fine.  I checked the schedule and right on cue it turns on at 8:00 a.m. daily.”

     “But no heat or air,” Jon queried?

     “Nothing.  Neither heat nor air.  The unit runs, but that’s it.”

     “How about the heating coils?  You know we’ve replaced these old electric elements more than once over the years.”

     “Um, I don’t think I checked them.”

     “Well, let’s take a look.”

     Jon and Thornton set to work to remove the access panel exposing the guts of the heating unit.  After shutting off the electrical disconnect they opened the unit.  Once open the blower motor, fan and heating elements were exposed. 

     “Theres the elements there,” Jon said.  “They look okay.  I don’t see any broken coils, no charred areas that might have been shorting out and no areas where the elements have aged and are ready to break.  Let’s turn it back on and see if it works.”

     “Okay.”  Thornton got up and walked back to the disconnect.

     “Okay, turn the power back on,” Jon told Thornton.       

     Pushing upwards, Thornton energized the heating unit.  A few electrical clicks of relays opening and switches activating and within seconds the unit started.  The motor started turning and the elements began to glow orange. 

     “Looks good,” Jon exclaimed.  “Nice and hot.  Plenty of heat.  Put your hand over this opening.” 

     Thornton leaned down to feel the heat rising up out of the unit and accidentally knocked a piece of paper he’d been writing notes on down into the unit.  It fell between the blower and the heating elements so that the movement of air immediately blew the paper into the elements. 

     “Crap!” Thornton yelled. 

     Without thinking he reached into the unit to grab the paper and instantly a sizzle like frying bacon emanated into the air.  Thornton yelled and jerked his bubbled knuckles out of the heating unit.  Smoke rolled lazily off of his hand and the smell of burnt hair filled the air. 

     “You okay,” Jon asked?

     “No.  I burned my knuckles on the element.”

     Jon took a closer look and could see several lines on Thornton’s hand where the coils of the element had burned his skin.  Jon grabbed his bottle of water he’d been sipping on and poured some over Thornton’s knuckles.  The pain subsided a little, but it was going to need some serious attention soon.  Pouring water onto a rag, Jon laid the wet rag across Thornton’s hand.  Thornton admitted it felt a little better.  And then they both heard a pop!

     Turning around Jon and Thornton were horrified to see the paper that was caught in the unit burst into flames.  Smoke curled down the ductwork toward Hanberry’s room and more smoke filled the attic.  The smoke detector overhead continued to blink green but neither of them knew for how long.  Quickly the paper burned up and with Jon and Thornton waving their arms frantically as if being attacked by bees the smoke finally cleared enough that it didn’t set off the smoke detectors. 

     “Close call,” Jon said. 

     “I thought for sure the fire department was going to show up,” Thornton agreed. 

     “Well, the element seems to be fine. The motor’s running and the fan is turning.  I don’t know why the air isn’t getting into the room.”

     Thornton shook his head and said, “I don’t know either.  Something is blocking the air flow.  We have air movement here, but not in Hanberry’s room.” 

     The bell rang below them indicating the end of recess.  A cacophony of tinny voices and the constant slamming of doors drifted up through the ceiling to the waiting ears of Jon and Thornton. 

     Both men sat staring and thinking.  Then Jon’s puzzled face turned into one of clarity. 

     “Did you check the dampers?”

     “No.  I just assumed they were open.  The computer controls that.”

     “I wonder if that’s the problem.  Think about it.  The unit comes on at the right time, the motor and fan run, the elements heat and the air flows.  The only thing left is the dampers.”

     “Sounds logical,” Thornton mused.

     “If I remember right,” Jon said more to himself than to Thornton, “the damper is just off the catwalk and over the lowered ceiling.  It’s just before the duct junctions out to the four diffusers in the room.”

     Shining his flashlight out over the lowered ceiling, Jon was able to find the damper motor about three feet off of the catwalk.  Pointing to it he told Thornton, “it’s right there.  See that black unit on the side of the duct work?”

     “Oh, yes.  There it is.”

     “If that’s not opening, then the air won’t flow.  Can you override it from the computer?”

     “Yes, but I think you can just jump the control box up here.  That should open the damper motor without getting into the computer.”

     “Great,” Jon exclaimed.  “Let’s do it.  It may just be that simple of a solution to our problem.”

     Jon positioned himself so he could see the damper motor while Thornton jumped the control box.  Carefully reaching in, Thornton took a jumper wire and connected one end to the terminal marked “voltage.”  He then touched the other end to the terminal marked “damper open.”  When he did a loud “pop” occurred and a flame leapt out of the control box and engulfed Thornton’s head.  Jon whirled around in time to see an orange ball of fire roll off of Thornton’s head and into the rafters.  The fuse in the box blew and the lights flickered.  Thornton turned toward Jon with singed eyebrows and patches of his hair missing.  Smoke curled off of his head and the stench of burning hair filled the attic. 

     “What in the world!” Jon cried as he leapt next to Thornton. 

     “I don’t know what happened.  I just jumped from here to here.”  He pointed at the control box. 

     “That’s not the 24 volt terminal for the damper motor.  That’s the 120 volt power for the motor.  You probably fried the damper motor and maybe the control board.  But are you okay?”

     Thornton shook his head.  “I’m fine.  Just embarrassed and blackened.”

     Jon looked his friend over and thought about some of his own accidents he’d been involved in. 

     “Well, let’s see what we can do.”  Jon clambered back to the edge of the catwalk and looked at the motor.  “I think I can reach it from here,” he told Thornton.  Leaning out over the edge of the catwalk, Jon carefully tapped on the damper motor.  Nothing happened.  He tried again and dropped his screwdriver onto the lowered ceiling below.  It fell straight down and punctured the ceiling.  Sitting dead still, Jon waited for a holler from below.  All he heard was Gladis talking to the kids.  No one had seen or heard what happened.  Jon looked things over.  He’d have to loosen the shaft and open the damper by hand. 

     “Hey Thornton.  Hand me that Crescent wrench and those Channel locks.  I’m going to try and open this manually.”

    Thornton handed Jon the tools and held onto Jon’s belt so he wouldn’t crash through the ceiling below.  After a few grueling minutes of hanging precariously over the ceiling and manipulating the set screw, Jon felt the shaft shift in his hands.  Carefully reaching behind him he handed the tools to Thornton.

     “Okay Thornton.  I’m going to twist the shaft and see if we have air movement.”

     “Okay.  Ready.”

     Jon slowly twisted the shaft and suddenly the damper flew open.   Jon’s coat that was lying on the top of the duct work disappeared down the duct.  With a “woosh” it was gone.  Thornton’s hat also tumbled off the unit and sucked down the vent.  The suction was so strong that dust and scrap paper on the floor were being sucked into the ventilation system.  As Jon and Thornton stared in amazement they suddenly heard screams from below.

     Jon turned toward Thornton with a horrified look. 

     “What happened?”

     “I have no idea.”

     Both men jumped up and made their way quickly through the attic and downstairs.  Running down the hall they rounded the corner and opened the door to Gladis’ room.  Inside they saw 30 shimmering creatures and one very angry mother hen.  The sudden blast of air had upended all the containers of glue and splashed them all over the children.  At the same instant the glitter had been dispersed throughout the room like a dust storm and was stuck to all the kids from head to toe.  Pieces of construction paper protruded from children’s hair and clothes and Mrs. Hanberry was covered with glue and dirt.  The dirt was from the flower pot that had been sitting on her desk.  Jon and Thornton tried not to laugh.  Gladis made sure they didn’t.  Gaining her composure, she gathered the chicks together without saying a word and marched them out the door.  As she passed by Jon and Thornton who were still snickering all she said was, “Have fun cleaning up this mess.”  Jon looked at Thornton and said, “it’s your school.  Have fun!”

     Thornton gave Jon a dirty look as he left.  Still chuckling, Jon walked outside to his car and left.  Halfway to the high school Jon heard a thump and his car was suddenly difficult to steer.  He stopped and got out to look. His front right tire was flat.  He wasn’t laughing anymore.