In case you were wondering, the Dubia cockroach, or Blaptica dubia, has the ability to move, twitch and stay very much alive even after you put a pin through its head, cut off its legs with scissors and rip out its digestive tract. This is a fact that a large chunk of biology majors at Dartmouth are well aware of, though I seem to be the only one bothered by it.
I’m not the biggest fan of cockroaches, but I’m even less of a fan of vivisection, particularly when the whole point of the traumatic experience was to prove that stomachs have enzymes. I know. Apparently, I would not have been able to fully appreciate that fact without splitting open the abdomen of a struggling, living creature and yanking out its guts.
And yes, I know it’s a “reflex” and that the cockroaches shouldn’t feel the pin in their heads, but still, that thrashing looked pretty purposeful to me. You could argue that there’s no concrete evidence that arthropods can feel pain, and that it’s all just reactions to noxious stimuli. But when in doubt, I say that if we’re going to kill things for no real reason other than keeping biology students occupied for four and a half hours, we might as well kill them quickly.
I just signed up for spring classes, and next term will be the first time since freshman winter that I will not take a biology class. I am happier about this than I should be, considering that I came into Dartmouth an English major and picked up biology because I considered it generally interesting and fun. But after 10 biology classes, I’m not so sure. For every awesome class spent trawling on a boat, going snorkeling in Storrs Pond or comparing the locomotion of Labradors and greyhounds, there’s an equal number of hours spent memorizing the minutiae of ion pumps and how mitochondria work.
I understand that one needs a strong background in cell biology to understand how life really works, but what bothers me most about majors in the sciences is the view that you’re not trying hard enough if you don’t find the material incredibly difficult and time-consuming. Quit complaining and disembowel your cockroach.
Despite my distaste for the cockroach lab, my major has allowed me to think more critically about data in a way that the humanities never did. I strongly believe that scientific literacy is undervalued in the U.S. Students should complete college with a basic understanding of how life works, how to read a scientific paper and how to call B.S. when a news article describes a revolutionary new study that proves orange juice cures seven types of cancer.
Still, after 10 biology classes, plus Chem 6 and Math 8, I’m tired. I’m tired of long labs spent waiting for a little test tube to change to a lighter shade of pink or orange. I’m tired of memorizing pages and pages of information, only to forget it all after the final. I’m tired of everyone assuming I’m pre-med when I say I’m studying English and biology. I’m tired of killing things for science.
It definitely sucks to realize that by senior year you’re no longer so excited about something that seemed fun and interesting two years ago. I don’t blame Dartmouth — there’s something to be said of crossing biology off your list of things you want to do with your life. To the chagrin of my parents, I’m using the process of elimination to figure out my future goals.
I’m thankful to the biology department for teaching me what a p-value is, how to design an experiment and why it might not be the best idea to use super glue to attach glitter to a guppy’s tail when testing a preference for novelty in female guppies (spoiler alert — there isn’t). I’m thankful to the lab partners who actually knew what they were doing and for the study buddies who walked me through the citric acid cycle.
I know it seems weird to be bidding farewell to the biology department when winter term isn’t even over (and I live in dread that someone will tell me that Biology 51 isn’t going to count as a culminating experience because I took it junior year). But not clicking the “Biology” tab during course selection seemed important enough to merit a column.
I’m also taking yoga this term, and it’s hilarious to see how the yoga teacher’s version of physiology differs from that of my biology classes. I’m skeptical about whether breathing in a particular way is going to kick my parasympathetic nervous system into gear and bring me back to a “balanced state,” but one of the things I’ve learned from the English department is that suspension of disbelief is necessary. Biology has also taught me that you can’t underestimate the placebo effect, so I’m going to just lie on the mat and think calm thoughts and continue to believe that everything is going to work itself out in the end.
