Disembowling with Chidren! Part 4

THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL DISSECTIONS

We start this morning. It has not been a good morning.

First off, I made the Civilian Alarm Clock Gaff, which was to set it 12 hours askew, fudging the AM/PM function so that it won’t go off when you need it to, but will inevitably go off after work, when you are taking a nap after a trying day, predicated by the fact that you showed up late because your alarm clock didn’t go off.

I get up in a panic and pack Howard gingerly into my messenger bag and light off for work. In case you haven’t gathered, I didn’t have the heart to slice him open. I figure I’ve got the website handy, with all sorts of gruesome views of disemboweled sharks*, and we’ll just wing it. It isn’t until I reach the train station that I realize I’ve remembered my pickled shark, but I’ve forgotten my wallet, and so I have to turn back and grab it. Things aren’t shaping up well, to say the least.

The train ride was also filled with mild aggravations. It usually is pleasant enough as not too many people are habitually heading toward Podunk Ville Oaks where my school resides, but the handful of folks in the train car were doing their best to aggravate for many. One fellow was loudly gibbering on his cell phone, stating loudly how he was too self conscious to wear these shoes with those dress pants, but if he was so self conscious, why was he informing a car full of strangers about his dress preferences? Another kid, maybe 18 at most, swaggered in wearing pants hanging just below his left nut, no shirt, and a visor on what the kids call a ‘gangsta lean.’ It’s the posers that stick out the most. A real ‘gangsta’ wouldn’t bother trying to look thuggish at 8:00 AM on the train to Podunk Ville. What would be the point? Who, exactly, is he trying to impress? I usually try to be sympathetic to growing pains- god knows I’ve still got a few to go through that I missed growing up, hence all the juvenile behavior, but well, this kid can probably vote, and that spooks me. Even more he can probably drive a car, which generates actual fear. At any rate, I don’t need to see his nipples so early on a Monday morning. Of course, who am I to be critical? My best friend at the moment is a shrink-wrapped dead shark, looking all the world like a kielbasa sausage. I need to get out more.

The beginning of the day was similarly irritating. There was an email from the 1st grade teacher, bitching to administration as to why her science lab was cancelled last week when I was out sick, why no one had informed her, blah blah blah. She’s got a point actually, but frankly you could get this lady’s panties in a knot by sneaking into her room and rotating her coffee mug a quarter turn clockwise. I thought of defending myself, but the fact that she nearly had an aneurism when I again left writing on her dry erase board (why not just…. erase it? Am I being unreasonable here?), I figured I’d better let it lie. I was late anyway, and had to set up the dissections.

My first concern is Howard. I know, it should be the children, but like I said, I’ve become attached, and so I want to stash him somewhere where he does not have to witness his brethren being desecrated in such a primitive fashion. I briefly consider setting him up on the wall outside my classroom, but it’s a sunny locale, and I haven’t brought any sunscreen with me. Dogfish do prefer shallower waters, but can be found at depths of up to 650 feet, and I figure with the added factor of him being acclimated to diffused sunlight, Howard may not have the complexion to deal with direct rays. The fact that I actually looked this up is beginning to worry me. Do I need to get out more?

I elect to stow him in a cardboard box. I figure the sound will be muffled, and since sound travels up to three times more efficiently in water than in air leads me to deduce that Howard may have a difficult time discerning the noises of hairless monkeys gleefully disemboweling his kin. He may ask later what all the fuss was, and currently I don’t know what I’ll say, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

A knock on the door. Oh, God, they are here.

They file in, already paired with lab partners, and not for the first time I’m noting how lucky I am to work with professionals so dedicated to their work. The kids are organized, science folders at the ready, diagrams in place, familiar with the anatomy, probably more so than I. It’s the fifth grade teacher who has primed them so well, and I am indebted to her.

The actual dissections go…….splendidly. The kids are excited yet dutiful, following instructions when needed and, given the go ahead, delving into the sharks and squids like bib-adorned pro football players tearing into sirloin steaks. One kid opens up the stomach and finds it full of krill, the very organism he did his report on for Marine Week. Another discovers the female gonads, something she is familiar with after the Sex Ed class. Even the other teachers, the very same who were squeamish about even having the organisms reside in their classrooms, shrink-wrapped and boxed nonetheless, were up to their knuckles in entrails, pointing out this and that. Did you know that the lens from the eye of a shark looks like an alien planet? It’s all cream and magenta swirls, the kind of marble that was the prize of the collection, back when these sorts of things were still in vogue. I had no idea. Plus, as an added bonus, they bounce.

It may sound barbaric; this gleeful tearing into guts and such, but it really is exciting to see the kids so fascinated by the whole event. Enthusiasm is difficult to culture in a system termed in the media as the ‘Abattoir of Education’. The fact that school can be a crushingly depressing cross to bear for a lot of kids has not escaped me, least of all for myself. This small occasion, though, brings me satisfaction and hope. Most gratifying is the fact that the teachers are into it- their normal ‘teacher voice’ is betraying a childlike wonder at the opportunity to see the mechanics of the natural world, and if I’ve got them hooked- pointedly with their heir help and hard work- I feel as if I’ve done my job correctly. I know ‘correctly’ may sound sterile and uninspired, but pairing scientific accuracy with the kind of enthusiasm I saw today, well, I’m going to sleep soundly tonight, knowing I had a part in a job well done. At least until 6:20 PM, when my alarm goes off.


*Of course, Howard was in the other room as I was strolling through the websites. I didn’t want him to get wind of what I was up to.