The Reluctant Scientist :: Personal Narrative Science Essays

The Reluctant Scientist So I have to ask myself, how it came to pass that a woman who has little interest in science (never, in fact, dissected so much as a single frog in high school), who never wanted to teach children any older than second graders, and who most importantly, loathes, and I mean that with a capital L, Loathesrodents of all sorts, came to be in a science classroom full of fourth grade students, picking rats’ bones out of hairballs? Well, it wasn’t easy, let me tell you. It all began innocently enough about two years ago, when my younger daughter, now ten, came home full of bubbling enthusiasm for her classes’ latest science project. â€Å"We’re doing owl pellets, Mom,† she informed me. â€Å"We get to find the bones and take them out and figure out what they are! Today we found a vole’s skull!† Having no idea what she was talking about, I said what all good moms do in order to demonstrate I was properly interested, â€Å"That’s nice dear,† and promptly forgot about what she had said as I turned my attention to something that I did understand. Owl pellets only returned to the forefront of my thinking several days later, when I visited my daughter’s classroom to fulfill my ongoing volunteer commitment to the school. The students were in the middle of science when I arrived, and spread out on their desks were an assortment of scales, rulers, tweezers, charts, tiny bones, and suspicious looking piles of gray fluff. Caitlin sprang from her desk and ran towards me. â€Å"Mom! Come see what Kimhee and I have!† Pulling me by the arm, she brought me over to her and her partner’s table, where they had the same odd assortment of items. It appeared as if the were reassembling some of the bones into a rather dubious looking skeleton. Wrinkling my nose, I asked, â€Å"What isthat?† â€Å"It’s the skeleton of a vole, Mommy. I told you all about it at home,† Caitlin replied, somewhat accusingly. Kimhee reached into the stack of papers on the table and extracted a detailed diagram of what appeared to be a rodent skeleton and offered it to me. â€Å"We got the bones from our owl pellet, and now we’re putting them back together,† Caitlin continued. â€Å"See, here’s the skull. We had another one, but we don’t have enough of the rest of the bones to make two skeletons.† â€Å"What exactly is an owl pellet?† I inquired hesitantly, not at all sure that I wanted to know the answer. Once again, my daughter looked at me impatiently. The Reluctant Scientist :: Personal Narrative Science Essays The Reluctant Scientist So I have to ask myself, how it came to pass that a woman who has little interest in science (never, in fact, dissected so much as a single frog in high school), who never wanted to teach children any older than second graders, and who most importantly, loathes, and I mean that with a capital L, Loathesrodents of all sorts, came to be in a science classroom full of fourth grade students, picking rats’ bones out of hairballs? Well, it wasn’t easy, let me tell you. It all began innocently enough about two years ago, when my younger daughter, now ten, came home full of bubbling enthusiasm for her classes’ latest science project. â€Å"We’re doing owl pellets, Mom,† she informed me. â€Å"We get to find the bones and take them out and figure out what they are! Today we found a vole’s skull!† Having no idea what she was talking about, I said what all good moms do in order to demonstrate I was properly interested, â€Å"That’s nice dear,† and promptly forgot about what she had said as I turned my attention to something that I did understand. Owl pellets only returned to the forefront of my thinking several days later, when I visited my daughter’s classroom to fulfill my ongoing volunteer commitment to the school. The students were in the middle of science when I arrived, and spread out on their desks were an assortment of scales, rulers, tweezers, charts, tiny bones, and suspicious looking piles of gray fluff. Caitlin sprang from her desk and ran towards me. â€Å"Mom! Come see what Kimhee and I have!† Pulling me by the arm, she brought me over to her and her partner’s table, where they had the same odd assortment of items. It appeared as if the were reassembling some of the bones into a rather dubious looking skeleton. Wrinkling my nose, I asked, â€Å"What isthat?† â€Å"It’s the skeleton of a vole, Mommy. I told you all about it at home,† Caitlin replied, somewhat accusingly. Kimhee reached into the stack of papers on the table and extracted a detailed diagram of what appeared to be a rodent skeleton and offered it to me. â€Å"We got the bones from our owl pellet, and now we’re putting them back together,† Caitlin continued. â€Å"See, here’s the skull. We had another one, but we don’t have enough of the rest of the bones to make two skeletons.† â€Å"What exactly is an owl pellet?† I inquired hesitantly, not at all sure that I wanted to know the answer. Once again, my daughter looked at me impatiently. The Reluctant Scientist :: Personal Narrative Science Essays The Reluctant Scientist So I have to ask myself, how it came to pass that a woman who has little interest in science (never, in fact, dissected so much as a single frog in high school), who never wanted to teach children any older than second graders, and who most importantly, loathes, and I mean that with a capital L, Loathesrodents of all sorts, came to be in a science classroom full of fourth grade students, picking rats’ bones out of hairballs? Well, it wasn’t easy, let me tell you. It all began innocently enough about two years ago, when my younger daughter, now ten, came home full of bubbling enthusiasm for her classes’ latest science project. â€Å"We’re doing owl pellets, Mom,† she informed me. â€Å"We get to find the bones and take them out and figure out what they are! Today we found a vole’s skull!† Having no idea what she was talking about, I said what all good moms do in order to demonstrate I was properly interested, â€Å"That’s nice dear,† and promptly forgot about what she had said as I turned my attention to something that I did understand. Owl pellets only returned to the forefront of my thinking several days later, when I visited my daughter’s classroom to fulfill my ongoing volunteer commitment to the school. The students were in the middle of science when I arrived, and spread out on their desks were an assortment of scales, rulers, tweezers, charts, tiny bones, and suspicious looking piles of gray fluff. Caitlin sprang from her desk and ran towards me. â€Å"Mom! Come see what Kimhee and I have!† Pulling me by the arm, she brought me over to her and her partner’s table, where they had the same odd assortment of items. It appeared as if the were reassembling some of the bones into a rather dubious looking skeleton. Wrinkling my nose, I asked, â€Å"What isthat?† â€Å"It’s the skeleton of a vole, Mommy. I told you all about it at home,† Caitlin replied, somewhat accusingly. Kimhee reached into the stack of papers on the table and extracted a detailed diagram of what appeared to be a rodent skeleton and offered it to me. â€Å"We got the bones from our owl pellet, and now we’re putting them back together,† Caitlin continued. â€Å"See, here’s the skull. We had another one, but we don’t have enough of the rest of the bones to make two skeletons.† â€Å"What exactly is an owl pellet?† I inquired hesitantly, not at all sure that I wanted to know the answer. Once again, my daughter looked at me impatiently.