Inmylongandunproductive life, I’ve encountered several disgusting things… and I’ve stepped in a few of them.
But few gave me more displeasure than dissecting a frog. This was a school requirement, and I dreaded it for weeks.
My biology teacher, however, seemedtoenjoywatching us approach a big vat of formaldehyde, grab a pair of tongs, and fish out a longdeceased amphibian from the stinky liquid.
After this, we chose a partner, then sat next to each other at a lab table. For the dissection, we would share a frog.
Followinginstructionson a large display in our textbook, we laid the frog on its back, and noticed this was not this frog’s first autopsy. The chest was already open, so we did our best to locate importantorgansbymoving themaroundwithanumber two pencil.
We noticed the position of the heart, lungs, and other disgusting stuff. Each of us attempted to sketch what we saw on a blank sheet of paper.
We noted that some of the frog’s front fingers were missing. Probably the result of a frog-to-frog competition We handed in our sketches. Mine looked a little like a goat.…but not much.
The teacher gave my artwork an F-minus. I complained to her that nobody deserved below an F.
She told me that this one was so bad, it needed special recognition.