He Blinded me with Science

It's almost time for my kids to start school again, and I am suddenly spending a lot of time reminiscing about my formative years. Unfortunately, since I have spent most of my life trying to block the tragic fashion choices and other major humiliations of my childhood from my memory, I am forced to repeatedly reminisce about the two-day period between September 15 and 16, 1984, which is the only time I can safely reminisce about without being reduced to a quivering, sobbing heap on the floor.

Ah, 1984. I was in the 7th grade. I had completed the unfortunate "I want to grow my bangs out" phase, but hadn't yet been subjected to major orthodonture. Acid wash jeans were a thing of the distant future. Boys were still mostly covered in cooties and the humiliating ritual of the school dance was still months away.

Although I was never much of a student, I loved science class. At the beginning of 7th grade I was enrolled in Introduction to Life Sciences, which never made much sense to me because everything we studied was dead. Not only was everything dead, but each creature was also specifically selected by teachers to induce high-pitched squealing in girls and create in the boys the uncontrollable desire to hurl it at females.

In my opinion, the only thing worse than a dead bug is a live version of the same bug, and I could glean no significant academic information by poking around in the guts of a dead earthworm, mainly because I kept my eyes closed all the time so as not to actually see the guts of the dead earthworm. In addition, none of the animals we were using to study the Miracle of Life actually had any discernible organs left. They were all a formaldehyde-preserved glop of brown goo on the inside.

Based on my experience as a mother, I would say that there are few things in life scarier than giving a bunch of 13-year-old kids sharp cutting implements. Add to that the fact that all of the girls used the scalpel with their eyes closed, not only to dissect but to fend off stealth worm attacks by the boys in the class, and you had a situation ripe for disaster. No wonder so many teachers develop drinking problems.

First, our teacher would distribute the creature of the week. We started small. Our first victim was a cricket. We then moved on to the earthworm, and finally, to the Holy Grail of junior high life sciences class; the shark. The theory was students could learn about life by prodding the various bits of goo inside the selected creature, and then draw a diagram in a little spiral notebook showing the different organs and label the function of each organ. Our teacher posted large color diagrams on the bulletin board of whatever animal we were supposed to be dissecting. The animal diagrams on the bulletin board were colorful, sharply defined and easily identifiable. Their hearts were red, their livers green, their lungs blue, etc. The problem was, after we put down the scalpel and opened our eyes to peer inside, the interior of the animal looked nothing like the color diagram. It looked like a wad of brown mucus. We'd all poke around for a while, and proclaim, "Look! I found the heart" in an excited voice in an attempt to fool our teacher into thinking we actually found something other than brown goo. We all figured if we couldn't find the heart we'd fail the class, which would result in us having to repeat Worm Dissection an infinite number of times, which would prevent us from going to college and getting a job, which would ruin our lives and make us completely unattractive to cootie-less members of the opposite sex.

After the dissection, we would spend 40 minutes attempting to create an artistic depiction of our animal in our notebooks, painstakingly trying to differentiate each bit of brown glop by using the various shades of brown colored pencils in our pencil kit. After a while, we all finally gave up and hastily copied the color diagrams directly from the bulletin board, which clearly were of an entirely different species of animal than the one we were dissecting. I don't think the teacher ever looked inside a worm, or any of the other animals we poked at. If she had, she would have realized we weren't learning anything in life science class except how to draw, which we were supposed to be doing in art class.

My most vivid memory, however, was the dissecting of the shark. Due to the inexplicably high cost of poorly preserved large aquatic creatures, we had to team up for this one. Unfortunately, I was teamed up with the one boy who no longer had cooties, as far as I was concerned. I, being a usually quiet person anyway, was reduced to utter silence around this junior high Adonis, who wore his blond hair swept over his forehead to cover his acne and who dressed in button front shirts with little polo horses on them. My other teammates were a girlfriend of mine (I'll call her Jennifer, since most girls in my generation are named Jennifer), and another boy named William who most definitely still had cooties and who, it would not surprise me at all to hear, has probably spent a fair amount of his adult life in prison.

We were given our shark, and set about dividing up the tasks we needed to perform. Jennifer, being the artistic one, was given the task of copying the color diagram into each of our notebooks. I don't think she came within 20 feet of the actual shark. Mr. Adonis was given the task (not by me, since I was struck incapable of verbalization) of dissecting the body of the shark with me. Finally, William, in what turned out to be one of the most memorable experiences of my life, was given the job of dissecting the head of the shark.

The body dissection went surprisingly well, given my inability to speak to my lab partner, and we were even able to identify three of the organs among the rest of the glop. In addition, our hands touched. I considered this a roaring success. I'm sure I smiled and made approving hand gestures, but I don't remember clearly because I almost fainted.

And then came William. In preparation for his future career, William approached the head with the scalpel, and with a slightly intimidating look in his eyes, began cutting. Unfortunately, poorly preserved shark head is very difficult to cut through, and William then resorted to stabbing at the head, which resulted in a shower of shark bits which fell on the only girl in the class who didn't think William had cooties. The poor girl ran from the room, crying and shaking her hair, which was very curly and therefore resulted in shark bits becoming even further entangled in her locks. She smelled like fish and formaldehyde for a week after the incident. In a strange twist of fate, she and William dated in high school.

Amazingly, we all finished the shark dissection, and the remainder of Introduction to Life Sciences, with all of our appendages. We never found the brain of the shark (It was purple, according to the diagram), but we did learn something important.

Shark is extremely difficult to remove from hair.