I remember when I used to love science. 4th grade, microscopes and all that jazz.
And then 5th grade happened to me.
And I say TO ME because that’s when the hormones took over, I started looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy "with bangs and bee stings" and I no longer liked science.
I liked boys instead. They became my new assignment and I had no valuable instructor to explain their inner workings to me. But that didn’t prevent me from taking notes… or rather passing them. I passed them and the time so completely absorbed in boys that I nearly failed 5th grade science and I continued to do poorly in it for the rest of my school days.
The periodic table had too many elements to memorize and the thought that I’d ever need to know what an atom “looked like,” was too abstract for me. I wanted something tangible. I wanted something I could understand.
I was spending all of my time with men under the microscope. Looking for behavioral patterns that would save me from heartache. Searching for meaning in the opposite sex.
But I know now that I should have been paying attention. Because maybe then I would have realized that men are a science all their own, and understanding biology was important after all.