Labor(ious)atory?

When in school a laboratory is always 'something different'. A break from the classroom and a chance to have some fun. My first practical session in standard fifth was a wonderful start and I should have guessed that in the future a laboratory would be a bloggable topic. I still remember how we had shaken hands with the artificial skeleton hanging from his 'stand'. We were thrilled to touch fake bones. As years passed by the skeleton became a guinea pig for students to experiment with newly gathered stuff. The skeleton started posing as famous 'wrestlers' in a wrestling-maniac world. He then proceeded to make obscene gestures thanks to the juxtaposition and breaking of certain bones *cough* the fingers *cough*. All the dead chameleons and snakes and tapeworms initiated my decision to close my doors to a medical profession. Optics experiments and the mixing and dissolving of various salts (mostly done by teachers) were highlighted with oooooooooohs by us students. I vividly remember (and I am sure most of my classmates do too) the loud exclamation when we saw Phenolphthalein turning a solution pink in a neutralisation experiment. Due to our Tom and Jerry watching sessions we were afraid that the whole thing might blow up and we would have our very own version of Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
Junior College was unadulterated fun. The Physics lab was a place where we could brush our manipulative skills and we used to make sure that our results matched the expected ones. The paper rider was at times compelled to fall off the tightened wire instead of resonating it with the help of a tuning fork. Young's Modulus was the most dreaded experiment where one was sure that the readings were error-ridden. Chemistry laboratory was a place where your wallet became lighter and lighter as the year passed. We were forced to buy a chemistry kit which rusted as soon as it got a chance to rust. Platinum loops were dismembered in acid filled test tubes by every member of our class. Half of the class would be on the verge of fainting due to obnoxious ammonia and chlorine fumes. Radical tests were conducted in the form of a co-operative mass movement. Thermometers and beakers suffered from cracks and poor innocent students were burdened with hefty fines quite regularly. Nobody's journal was completely flawless as we struggled hard to cover our journals using brown paper. Our lab coats had a wonderful lattice work design, courtesy: laceration by acids.
Computer Science laboratory was a wonderful experience. Input to the brain was zero and output was zero too. There was no question of a logical AND gate because either the professor or the students were switched off during each session. Programming was a delightful feeling as we experienced the power of creation and we reassured ourselves by saying that by the time we graduate, these programmes are going to turn obsolete. Visual Basic was one thing with which we could be at ease because it used Graphical User Interface, a feature which is normally used by everyone of us, day in day out. Assembly Level Programming lab was a mechanical experience. In short, we didn't know what was happening in our Comp Sci lab until we entered the grand VJTI!
First Year Bachelor of Technology was a repetition of standard eleventh! A bunch of Physics and Chemistry lecturers made us fill in journals (read booklets). There was a graver doom looming upon us by the name of workshop where we were threatened by fire, wood and metal! One wrong step and it could spell disaster. It was great fun working as daily wages labourers but it was tough time tackling the workshop supervisors. They were a bunch of rude, sleep deprived and jealous alcoholics ready to stoop down to foul language to soothe their egos. They deserved to be thrown into furnaces as hot as the earth's core or to be threatened using hacksaws and chisels. Unfortunately, none of us was brave (or violent) enough to do so.
Second Year Bachelor of Technology opened newer windows as we saw a weekly dose of hectic machines' practicals. Other engineers would find the motive behind the practicals as completely hollow. Supplying electricity to motors and rotating them and noting down readings by permutation and combination is anything but enjoyable! To top it all we had strange demonstrators and lecturers in charge of our lab. It would be better if I don't talk much about it. Would save me the refreshing of a lot of unpleasant memories. Other laboratories gave us the much needed confidence that you don't need to slog in a lab. Finding a good place to sit and chatter with your friends was the primary objective of certain laboratory sessions. That was when we started getting immune to scoldings, warnings and threats ranging from awarding of 'C' grade to complaints to the Head of the Department (snort! you would have to organise a search party to search for him during college hours).
Fifth semester and now we know the intricacies of the art of living in laboratories. Cathode Ray Oscilloscopes act as television sets and we idiots sit in front of the new idiot box of our lives. We love the display and colleagues rack their brains while guessing whether the CROs have touch screen technology. Bread boards make me sick and soon I'll stop consuming bread for the nourishment of my physically and mentally exhausted form. Connecting wires are meant to be wound on fingers and red, black patterns adorn every finger in the lab. We make sure that when an OP-AMP is busted, the entire bread board becomes useless. M.Tech students who are supposed to supervise try to get friendly with us by inquiring about our past and plans for future. They compare their syllabus to our autonomous one. Some of our classmates have even gone to the extent of clicking photographs with the friendly guy with a variety of poses and sometimes even posing as guests at a masquerade party. Laboratories with a number of exits are a boon to society because they enable us to escape temporarily and come back with a Vada Pav in hand. Our Signal Processing lab is a gleeful session where we are asked to execute functions to get signals while our professor and his gang of girls surf the net or log into orkut to catch up with their friends who are sitting in a lab two storeys below the lab. We have tried hard to escape from the lab without letting the authorities know but a wave of guilt overcame us when we saw our professor reading technical papers on various websites. We proceeded to rename an already executed programme and then sat there hoping that they would turn on the air conditioner during our next turn. Laboratory sessions are useless and writing journals is worse. But then we also learn much out of it. These sessions embolden the cowardly and encourage the bravehearts to adopt a more 'practical' approach towards life.