Here's the equation: Take hydrogen. What is the relative mass of a carbon-12 atom on the carbon-12 scale? Therefore, the mass percent of hydrogen in butane. It's good to leave some feedback. A value used to express quantities in chemistry. It can refer to an atom, electron, ion, or molecule.
Note: If you click on the table, you'll launch it into its own window/page on your browser. A mole of a substance is known as a material mass containing the same number of basic units as atoms in exactly 12, 000 g of 12C. Molecules and atoms are very tiny, both in size and mass. Consider the following equation for a chemical reaction: 2H2+ O2→2H2OThis can be interpreted as two molecules of hydrogen and one molecule of oxygen combining to formtwo water molecules. 022 x 1023 molecules of methane has a mass of 16. Relative mass and the mole answer key 6th. The number of atoms present in 12g (0.
Suppose we have to find out the percentage composition of hydrogen in butane(C4H10) then it will be: The total mass of one mole of butane =58. They differ only in units; atomic mass is measured in atomic mass units, and molar mass is measured in grams per mole. A reaction yields 2. We can use these values to find the number of moles. Eva Grise - 22_relative_mass_and_the_mole-s.pdf - Relative Mass and the Mole How can atoms be counted using a balance? Why? Consider the following | Course Hero. You might be looking at Avogadro's constant and thinking that it is a fairly odd number. The density of one mole in grams is the weight in atomic mass units of that element. Know more about the mole concept and the related topics, for any further help contact the mentors at BYJU'S. To find the number of moles, we divide mass by relative atomic mass: We, therefore, have 1. They are the same numerically. He is most famous for his theory about the volume of gases, known as Avogadro's law. More than 3 Million Downloads.
Just work the problem in pounds - it will work. Relative mass and the mole answer key class. Over 10 million students from across the world are already learning Started for Free. It is all very well to calculate the atomic molecular and formula masses of atoms, molecules, and other compounds, but since we cannot weigh an individual particle, these masses have limited usefulness. Want to read all 6 pages? Moles are based on a number called the Avogadro constant.
In fact, Avogadro's constant, which we know is just the number of entities in a mole, is exactly equal to the number of carbon atoms in 12. Notice how the atomic weights have no units after them. It has a relative molecular mass of 12. Relative mass and the mole how can atoms be counted using a balance key - Brainly.in. As we said, this is known as the Avogadro constant, or simply just Avogadro's constant. Those atomic weights are the number of grams you will need of that element in order to have exactly 1 mole of that element. Something went wrong, please try again later. How many moles of carbon atoms are there in a 20. Mass of hydrogen in one mole of butane = 10.
If we say we have one mole of hydrogen atoms, we know that we have precisely 6. This leads us to a useful bit of maths. 022 x 1023 atoms of carbon have a mass of 12. Find the atomic mass for each element using the mass shown in the Periodic Table or Atomic Weight Table. 6 and 7 from the main table above them.
Only every so often, when he got a nibble, did he come out of his trance, spring to his feet, and haul his drop line high over his head, fist by fist, until he yanked a fish from the water. We didn't want to startle him. Then a taxi drove up, which made Mr. Kim grab her arm. Crossword clue drop bait on water. We went home fishless. When the cabbie let him go, Mr. Kim stepped to the taxi and tried to open the door. But Tom-Su was cool with us, because he carried our buckets wherever we headed along the waterfront, and because he eventually depended on us -- though at the time none of us knew how much. But eventually we got used to it, or forgot about him altogether.
Once he looked like the edge of a drainpipe, another time the bumper of a car parked among a dozen others, and yet another time a baseball cap riding by on a bus. The Dodgers against the Mets would replace the fish for a day -- if we could get discount tickets. The father mostly lost his lid and spit out one non-understandable sentence after another, sounding like an out-of-control Uzi. We continued along the tracks to Deadman's and downed our doughnuts on Mary Ellen's netting, all the while scanning the railway yard and waterfront for Tom-Su's gangly movement. Drop bait lightly on the water. The next morning Pops didn't show himself at Deadman's Slip. Principal Dickerson sent Louie home on his reputation alone. We pulled the seagull in like a kite with wild and desperate wings. Sandro Meallet is a graduate of The Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University.
Suddenly I thought that Tom-Su might go into shock if we threw his father into the water. After we filled our buckets, we rolled up the drop lines, shook Tom-Su from his stupor, and headed for the San Pedro fish market. Sometimes, as an extra, we got to watch the big gray pelicans just off the edge of Berth 300 headfirst themselves into the wavy seawater, with the small trailer birds hot on their tails, hoping to snatch and scoop away any overflow from the huge bills. They were quickly separated by the taxi driver, who kept Mr. Kim from his wife as she scooted into the back of the taxi and locked the door. "Then take him to Harlem Shoemaker, Mrs. Harlem Shoemaker was the school for retarded children. Tom-Su, we knew, had to be careful. Drop fish bait lightly crossword clue. I'd been caught fighting Lowrider Louie again, this time because I looked at him a second too long, and was sent to the office. Me and the fellas wondered on and off just how we could make Tom-Su understand that down the line he wasn't gonna be a daddy, disrespecting his jewels the way he did. But we didn't know how to explain to him that it was goofy not only to have his pants flooding so hard but also to be putting the vise grip on his nuts. It was the end of August. But except for his crashing in the boxcar, things felt pretty good to us: the fish were biting well behind the Pink Building, and we were bothered by no one from early morning until late afternoon, when the sky got sleepy and dull. But he was his usual goofy mellow, though once or twice we could've sworn he sneaked a knowing peek our way -- as if to say he understood exactly what he'd done to the mackerel and how it had shaken us. The sky was dull from a low marine layer clinging fast to the coastline.
The Sanchezes had moved back to Mexico, because their youngest son, Julio, had been hit in the head by a stray bullet. He wasn't in any of the other boxcars either. Once or twice we'd seen Pops stepping along the waterfront, talking to people he bumped into. At ten feet he stopped and looked us each in the face. "I'm sure they'll have room for him there. It was a big, beautiful mackerel. To our left a fence separated the railway from the water. A couple of us put an arm around him to let him know he'd be all right in our company. And even though he'd already been along for three days, he had no clue how to bait his hook. We shook Tom-Su from his stare-down, slid off Mary Ellen's netting, grabbed our buckets, and broke for the back of the Pink Building.
Sometimes we'd bring squid, mostly when we were interested in bigger mackerel or bonito, which brought us more than chump change at the fish market. When he'd finally faded from sight, we called below for Tom-Su to come up top, but we heard no movement. Sometimes we'd bring lures (mostly when no bait could be found), and with these we'd be lucky to catch a couple of perch or buttermouth -- probably the dumbest and hungriest fish in the harbor. As the seagulls and pelicans settled on the roof because they'd grown tired of the day, we gathered our gear but couldn't speak anymore, because the summer was already done. We discussed it and decided that thinking that way was itself bad luck. Eventually we'd get used to the gore. Each time we'd seen Tom-Su, he'd been stuck glue-tight to his mother, moving beside her like a shrunken shadow of a person. If we did, he'd just jump out of sight and then peek around a corner, believing he was invisible. Then we strolled over to Berth 300 with drop lines, bait knives, and gotta-have doughnuts, all in one or two buckets. Or how yelling could help any. The reflection was his own face in the water, but it was a regular and way less crooked face than the one looking down at it. ONE afternoon, as we fought a record-sized bonito and yelled at one another to pull it up, Tom-Su sat to the side and didn't notice or care about the happenings at all; he didn't even budge -- just stared straight down at the water. MONDAY morning we ran into Tom-Su waiting for us on the railroad tracks. Tom-Su stood before us lost and confused, as if he had no clue what had just happened.
As far as he was concerned, we were magicians who'd straight evaporated ourselves! Since the same bloodstained shirt was on his back, we knew he hadn't gone home. Suddenly, though, one of us got a bite and started to pull and pull at the drop line, with the rest of us yelling like mad, but just as we were about to grab for the fish, the drop line snapped. Tom-Su spoke very little English and understood even less. Once or twice, though, one of us climbed under the wharf to make sure he wasn't hanging with the twin. We had our fishing to do. Up on the wharf we pulled in fish after fish for hours. Tom-Su's hand traced over a flat reflection, careful not to touch the surface. Usually if no one got a bite, we'd choose to play different baits or move to a new spot in the harbor. The fish sprang into the air. He was goofy in other ways, too.
On its far surface you could see the upside down of Terminal Island's cranes and dry docks. It couldn't have been him, we decided, because the bag was way too little between the grown men carrying it out. But mostly we headed to the Pink Building, over by Deadman's Slip and back on the San Pedro side, because the fish there bit hungry and came in spread-out schools. We continued our walk to the Pink Building. "Tom-Su, " one of us once said, "tell us the truth. THE previous May, Tom-Su and his mother had come to the Barton Hill Elementary principal's office. Tom-Su removed the fish from his mouth and spit the head onto the ground. SOMETIME in the middle of August we sat on the tarp-covered netting as usual. Like fall to the ground and shake like an earthquake, hammer his head against a boxcar, or run into speeding traffic on Harbor Boulevard. AT the Pink Building we sat for a good hour and got not a single nibble. He had a little drool at the corner of his mouth, and he turned to me and grinned from ear to ear. If the fish weren't biting, we had to get experimental on them.
Tom-Su was and wasn't a part of the situation. He shot a freaked-out look our way. From its green high ground you could see clear to Long Beach. We stared into the water below and wondered if we shouldn't head for another spot. Why do you bite the heads off the fish when they're still alive? After we finished our doughnuts, we strolled to the back wharf of the Pink Building, dropped our gear, unrolled our drop lines, baited hooks, and lowered the lines. "... it's for special cases like Tom-Su, " Dickerson said, handing her the note. Once we were underneath, though, we found Tom-Su with his back to us, sitting on a plank held between two pilings.