I was a stellar science student

I was cleaning and going through some old high school papers and I found my 10th grade Biology portfolio. I got 50/100 on it because it wasn't numbered, which it was! Now, just to give you some background on this class, we'd walk into class, the lights would be off because the projector would be on with the day's notes. We would copy the pages upon pages of notes, I would fall asleep on the sleeve of my corduroy jacket which would then leave very deep lines on my face, then class would be over. By my senior year, my Biology teacher had somehow become one of the bouncers at my school. So, as you can see, I have had some pretty horrendous teachers, especially in science and math, which is a shame because I really do love those subjects. It is very ironic that I married a science teacher, and I am always amazed at how great a teacher Gary is because mine were puh-retty bad.

In 7th grade, when I was just bursting with self-esteem, my math teacher would yell at me in front of the class when I'd "miss" a question. One that still puzzles me was she wrote .27 on the board. She said, "Jessilyn. How do you say this number?" I timidly replied, "Twenty-seven hundredths." She sighed very angrily and yelled, "Did you hear what she just said? I just don't know what to do! It is point two seven." She went on and on about how she couldn't believe I thought that was right. Way to inspire the kids, lady! I went from being the only kid on my 6th grade class with straight A's, to barely passing 7th grade math. Jerk. Anyway, I majored in English. I'll have to tell you about the teacher who helped me decide that's what I wanted to do, so that you can know I also did have some great teachers.

So, back to my original topic- I found a gem of a paper from 10th grade Biology. It made me chuckle because I can hear my contempt for the class in every sarcastic word. It was fun, though, because I got to write something in science class and I just went to town! I thought I'd share it with you. We were supposed to write a story about DNA. I made it up as I went along, not really caring about it. You're really going to wonder how I majored in English after, and while, you read it. I won't comment at the end. I want you to bask in the glow of the sublime ending. Remember, it's about DNA. By the way, I actually got 25/25. Here goes:

The DNA Mystery

Once upon a time in a far away land, oh let's say, Biologyland, there lived a nice little peasant boy. Um, let's call him Stanley, yeah Stanley. He was a nice young man- honest, hard-working, friendly. Ol' Stanley worked for a man named, oh, Roy.

Now Roy wasn't a super duper nice guy. He had is faults like most of the rest of us. He was a tad mean at times. He had somewhat of a temper, true, but hey, don't we all? But see, Roy just wasn't really accepted by the rest of the townsfolk. That's why Stanley, the dear boy, offered to work for him because he knew Roy needed some help.

Stanley boy would chop wood, feed the animals, clean the house, do the laundry, and even cut Roy's hair!!!

But, even when Stanley would do all these wonderful things, Roy just couldn't be nice. Stanley was patient and kind, and as far as anybody else could see, just wanted to help poor, mean ol' Roy from being lonely.

Roy decided to let Stanley live in the guest house behind his. One day a neighbor came over to borrow some eggs. He found Stanley cutting Roy's hair, like a swell little lad. The neighbor left.

Then, people began to notice they didn't hear any rude things from Roy. In fact, they started to realize he was nowhere to be seen. They asked Stanley about it.

"Oh, he just went on a trip," Stanley casually said.

The townsfolk thought nothing of it for a while. They noticed Stanley was a little more weird. So, one day, while Stanley was plowing the fields, some of the neighbors snuck into the house to see is something fishy was going on. A man named Bob, um Bob Smith, noticed some scissors on the floor. He didn't want anyone to step on them, so he picked them up. Then he saw something strange on them. . . BLOOD! He looked around. HAIR. . . there was hair on the floor. And then. . . SKIN. . .there was skin on the scissors too!!

Bob called everyone over. They put the evidence in a plastic bag and took it to the local scientist, George (no last name, just plain ol' George.) While they did that some people went over to Stanley and said they needed a sample of his blood and skin.

"OK!" he said. "Anything to help a neighbor!!"

George, after comparing the evidence and Stanley's samples, concluded that some of it belonged to Stanley. And, since I don't want to waste time with details, I'll just say they found Roy, a dead Roy, mind you, in the cellar. They took a sample of his hair, skin, and blood. The DNA matched. They now knew Stanley killed Roy.

So, they all went to Stanley and asked him if the kind, sweet lad really did do it.

"Yes!" he finally admitted. "I had to! He didn't care about anything I did! I worked and slaved. The man never cared, I tell you!!"

"That's OK," said Bob Smith, "he was a jerk anyway."