“Did you honestly leave—?”
“It was Biba’s idea,” I say with a chuckle.
“I seriously doubt that. Goodbye Rachel. I want my key back.”
I swallow all that I want to say. “Bye, Liv.”
Boen
“Dopamine is a neurotransmitter that works on a reward and reinforcement theory and—”
“Isn’t dopamine part of the chemical compound for love?”
I blink at the interruption. I’m not opposed to my students speaking out of turn, but it’s the question itself that’s the surprise. This class is made up of the best of the best of the science courses at Northern Collegiate, twelve students ultra-focused on grades and scraping as many extra marks as they can to get into the best program at the best university.
And then I give my attention to the speaker. “Have you researched the formula?” I ask Kael. Science nerd or not, he’s got to be the most lovesick out of all the students in all my classes.
“Believe me, I’m trying.” That gets a laugh from the class.
I turn to the whiteboard and wipe off two inches of my notes from the beginning of the class. “There are three types of love,” I say as I carefully print the words. “Lust, which I won’t bother explaining, is associated with testosterone. Deep attachment, which is a like a strong platonic love, is linked with the neurochemical systems, oxytocin and vasopressin. Dopamine + serotonin + oxytocin = love,” I recite as I write out the formula. “That’s the chemical compound of love. But when you think of the negative aspects of dopamine, how it’s associated with obsessive behaviours and emotional dependency, it might be a good idea to rethink the idea of love.”
“Yeah—that’s why chicks get so crazy when you hook up with them.” Bryce guffaws. He’s one of the few football players enrolled in my class and if not for the tutoring skills of Amal, wouldn’t have made it past the first quiz.
“We say girls or women, not chicks,” I remind him. And I don’t say anything about his use of the term ‘hooking up’ because honestly, I have no idea what that means this week. All the way? A kiss in the corner? Even for me, after three years of teaching—and as someone who rates their intelligence as much higher than average—teenspeak is still a foreign language, probably because they keep coming up with additions to the lingo.
“No, that’s why some guys get all obnoxiously possessive,” Kaylie chimes in, frowning at Bryce. “Not you, bae,” she adds to her boyfriend, Rafe. At least I think they’re still together. Teenager relationships change as quickly as the Snapchat feed.
“You do have to consider how the chemical reaction of attraction will make you behave in new and unusual ways,” I say. “We’re getting into biochemistry here.”
“You make it sound like love is a bad thing.” This is from Amal, the only one in the class with the brains and courage to contradict me if necessary. I’m more comfortable with this class than any of my others, and they, in turn, seem to like me, so we often veer off into non-chemistry related topics.
“Do I?”
“Yes,” Steven chimes in, always ready to support Amal. “‘New and unusual ways.’”
“I suppose many do think that attraction, and therefore love, is nonsensical and, according to some, a waste of time.”
Very rarely is the class this silent. There’s more noise when they’re writing a test.
“Do you really think that?” Amal asks after a long pause. It may be my imagination, but my prized student sounds a bit worried.
“I’m not sure what I think,” I confess, once again surprised, but this time at myself.
“Are you in love?” Kaylie asks with an eager expression on her face.
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Do you want to be?” Kael demands.
“I’m… not sure.”
“Do you like someone?” Kaylie is altogether too interested in this subject, namely, me.
“I don’t think this discussion is appropriate for class,” I say nervously.
“We can look at it as an experiment,” Bryce calls. “Check out your dopamine levels when you fall in love.”
“But I have no plans to fall in love.”
