A Day In My Zoology Class

By: Rakshash

 


 

“AAAAAGGGGHHH!!!” she screamed. “I killed him.”

She stared regretfully out of the window.

“And he was so cute too.”

 

No, this is not a murder mystery, a suspense thriller or what is called a “who- dunnit”.

 

This is the story of what happened one day in my Zoology class.

 

When I was younger I would say I wanted to become a doctor.

“But,” the all knowing adults would say, “Being a doctor is very hard work.”

“Hard work, hmmm, no problem,” I’d think.

 

“Ah but, you’d have to cut people open.” They’d waggle their fingers.

Cut people open? Fine by me.

 

 I could think of several people I would like to cut open.

 

And then would come what I thought was by far the weakest argument yet.

“You’d have to dissect icky yucky frogs to become a doctor.”

“Icky yucky frogs? Frogs weren’t icky, nor were they yucky,” I’d think indignantly.

I was only seven years old. My knowledge of frogs only extended to Kermit the frog on ‘The Muppets.” And Kermit the frog was definitely cute.

 

“No problem.” I said, in all my six year old innocence.

 

 

Now let’s zap ahead ten years in time. You will now see the author quaking with forceps in one hand and a tray holding an unconscious frog in the other. Staring at the slimy, glassy eyed frog, cutesy Kermit the Frog was reduced to the status all other

childhood myths are reduced to when proved false.

 

I swallowed. I stared at the frog. The frog stared back at me.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, the teacher’s instructions going unnoticed.

 

I was supposed to dissect a frog. Poor frog, being sacrificed so that we could go ahead in our medical field. My friend Sadie felt strongly about this.

 

Her conversation with the teacher before class went like this:

 

“It’s just an innocent little animal. A fellow being.”

 

“Yes, but dissecting it will help you on in your professional field when you have to treat humans.”

 

Sadie glared, “Then why don’t we dissect humans?”

 

“Because…”

 

“How would you like it if you were a frog and somebody came and plucked you out of your natural habitat and the a Zoology teacher told a student to cut you open and poke about with your insides? Hmmm?”

 

The teacher was puzzled. “But….I’m not a frog.”

 

“Yes, but if you were one, you’d take yourself out and dissect you.”

The teacher backed away, seriously doubting Sadie’s sanity.

 

The teacher droned on his instructions. “You are to dissect the frogs and locate their organs. These specimens are mostly female-”

 

“So not only are we killing fellow beings,” Sadie cut in, “But frogs who are probably wives and mothers.”

The teacher continued, his beliefs that Sadie was insane confirmed.

 

He droned….and droned….and droned some more.

While he was talking, I saw Sadie’s frog move.

It moved again. This time everyone noticed.

It jumped. Somebody screamed.

 

Sadie ran and grabbed the frog.

 

“Sadie, what are you doing?” The teacher yelled, images of strait jackets running through his mind.

 

Sadie climbed on a stool.

 

“What am I doing? Ha!” Sadie yelled waving about the poor frog, “ I am setting an example to all budding doctors!”

 

“Come down from there!” the teacher said weakly.

 

“I am daring to say no!” she said waving her arms. (By now the frog-to-be-rescued was looking very dizzy.)

 

She ran to the window. The class cheered.

 

“I am going to set this frog free.”

 

“But,” I said.

 

“I will show people that there are better ways, more humane ways of pursuing a medical

career.”

 

“But--”

 

“I will dare to say ‘no!’”

 

“But,” I repeated.

 

Sadie looked at me sadly.

 

“I thought you were my friend.”

 

She turned around and tossed the frog out of the window.

“Be free, little frog!”

 

The class cheered.

 

“BUT WE’RE ON THE TOP FLOOR!” I finally managed to yell.

 

Everyone gasped and ran to window (including the teacher.)

We stared down…down…down….to the ground, where the poor little frog’s guts were spilled.

 

“AAAAAGGGGHHH!!!” she screamed. “I killed him.”

She stared regretfully out of the window.

“And he was so cute too.”

(And that’s where we came in.)

 

“Actually, it’s a she,” the teacher said

 

We glared at him.

 

The bell rang and the class headed for the cafeteria

 

“Don’t worry,” the teacher said in an effort to cheer her up, “We still have lots of other frogs to dissect.”

 

Sadie was sick.

 

And that was the end of the unsuccessful rescue-the-frog mission.