The Chronicles of Michelle Papalini, Tired High School Science Teacher
My name is Michelle Papalini… and I always thought that I would have some great impact on the world. When I first went into the biology field, I was an idealistic college student who wanted to save the world. I was going to end pollution, global warming, and war… I would up with a teaching degree and working with mostly apathetic tenth grade high school students. Don’t get me wrong, teacher have great impact – it is just that the impact I feel I make is sometimes hard to see. I have a good rapport with my students, I feel like I’m a pretty chill teacher and do show a great deal of respect to my students.
Although most of the time I genuinely enjoy my job and my students, I absolutely had the fetal pig dissection lab. It comes around every year, and those three days are the stuff of nightmares. I always think that I should take my vacation that week, but I think the school administration would get suspicious if I was missing that week year after year. I really shouldn't be that wimpy about it – it is just a fetal pig, right? What could go wrong? It is more like what could go right? Every year I think, Michelle, what are you doing here when you could be in the Caribbean or on a California beach or just stay in bed. But I’m a good teacher and I will not be intimidated by some stupid pig.
Well, the fetal pig lab usually reveals the true personalities of my students. The first general group I can identify are the scientifically minded students. They are surprisingly professional in their handling of the pig, no crude jokes, no tears, and fascination – not with a dead creature, but something that is to be studied and understood. I like this group. The second group I can identify quickly are the… well, in war they are called conscientious objectors and I think that’s a fitting term here. They are weepy when they receive their pig, they won’t touch it and if they have to, they are always careful to glove up and clean up well afterward. The last group is the budding psycho/sociopaths – the kids who get way too much pleasure exploring the innards of a dead creature. These are the ones to look out for.
This last group is what caused me the most grief this year. Just so you know this group doesn't always cause the most problems – my beef, so to speak, is usually with the conscientious objectors who get a bit too vocal. But this year, the budding psycho/sociopaths were in rare form. On day one, a couple pairs of fetal pig eyes wound up on my name plate while my back was turned… nothing like being covered with baby pig eyes. Day two brought a loud speaker announcement – which I found out was faked – "Michelle Papalini, please come to the administrative office." I came back and two of my conscientious objectors were in tears. Day three, a student passed out cold after one of my budding psycho/sociopaths pretended to consume the pig’s heart… I should really get a medal or be sainted – Michelle Papalini, patron saint of botched fetal pig labs.
Although most of the time I genuinely enjoy my job and my students, I absolutely had the fetal pig dissection lab. It comes around every year, and those three days are the stuff of nightmares. I always think that I should take my vacation that week, but I think the school administration would get suspicious if I was missing that week year after year. I really shouldn't be that wimpy about it – it is just a fetal pig, right? What could go wrong? It is more like what could go right? Every year I think, Michelle, what are you doing here when you could be in the Caribbean or on a California beach or just stay in bed. But I’m a good teacher and I will not be intimidated by some stupid pig.
Well, the fetal pig lab usually reveals the true personalities of my students. The first general group I can identify are the scientifically minded students. They are surprisingly professional in their handling of the pig, no crude jokes, no tears, and fascination – not with a dead creature, but something that is to be studied and understood. I like this group. The second group I can identify quickly are the… well, in war they are called conscientious objectors and I think that’s a fitting term here. They are weepy when they receive their pig, they won’t touch it and if they have to, they are always careful to glove up and clean up well afterward. The last group is the budding psycho/sociopaths – the kids who get way too much pleasure exploring the innards of a dead creature. These are the ones to look out for.
This last group is what caused me the most grief this year. Just so you know this group doesn't always cause the most problems – my beef, so to speak, is usually with the conscientious objectors who get a bit too vocal. But this year, the budding psycho/sociopaths were in rare form. On day one, a couple pairs of fetal pig eyes wound up on my name plate while my back was turned… nothing like being covered with baby pig eyes. Day two brought a loud speaker announcement – which I found out was faked – "Michelle Papalini, please come to the administrative office." I came back and two of my conscientious objectors were in tears. Day three, a student passed out cold after one of my budding psycho/sociopaths pretended to consume the pig’s heart… I should really get a medal or be sainted – Michelle Papalini, patron saint of botched fetal pig labs.