out to the center of the field onto the grass. A couple of the other runners have already started warming up.
The temperature’s a little brisk, but my body feels warm all over—like the excitement of seeing her can’t be shaken away even here on the course.
I sit down, extending my legs, and begin bending methodically into stretches.
Standing, I get set into a lunge and then a couple of other positions, holding them, giving my body time to react. I roll my neck and stretch my arms out to my sides, pulling my spine up as straight as I can get it and pushing my chest forward, stepping onto the track for a couple of slow laps around.
As I come around the last corner, I hear the whistle blow. I know what he wants. I jog right up to the starting point.
“I’ll give you two minutes!” he hollers from the side.
Two other runners line up beside me.
I bend my right leg up behind me reaching to get hold of my shoe, and pull it up to the back of my thigh, switching legs, letting out a deep breath, bouncing a little and rolling my shoulders to get centered.
“Ready?!”
I lower into position.
“3—2—1!” Whistle blow!
I get in immediate stride—accelerating—my breathing vents fast.
The speed of the rhythm is second nature.
I’ve lost peripheral sight of the other guys.
I wind my run down to a jog, circling about half of the track.
Coach Lewis is making his way across. “Good time! I expect the same result Saturday!” Compliment or warning, I wasn’t going to try to figure it out. I just knew my job and I had to do it.
I paced myself the rest of practice after proving my time. Any injury now—I’d go from star athlete—to being shunned. As loyal as the student fans are, they wanted Yale to dominate every event—and the feeling of being turned on could rear its ugly head pretty fast.
11
shay
I finish sitting the last fetal pigs on the front, two lab tables.
“Listen up class!” I call over the chatter. The sound winds its way down and I can begin.
My voice has to carry over the entire room. I speak a little more loudly, “We talked about this before you left on break, but since it’s been a little while I want you to review it fast.” I walk around the room passing out the dissection guides. “And I want each lab table deciding which incisions are going to be made by which person before you begin.” A little talking starts to generate. “Wait a minute—before we get started I’ll be coming around to see if you’re organized. After I get to each table, then you’re free to begin. Remember—do not cut—or move, more than is necessary to expose a given structure. And pay particular attention to the spatial relationships of organs and glands as you expose them—know that their positions are not random.” I get to the last lab table and slide the final four guides across it to the remaining, waiting students. “As you’re waiting for me to come around, take a minute and go over your notes quietly.”
I move from table to table checking for their preparedness. As I get to the last one, I look around the room. There’s an excitable eagerness to the near silence. Most of the students left now are the serious ones, with the class being a little more than half its size from when we began. A lot of the students who left ended up enrolled in the introductory biology course with the parents having high hopes of a generational doctor, only to find out that it’s not for them, and some—just slackers, and dead weight for the rest of the class. I’m glad to help anyone out, who’s trying. But when you miss labs and show up late unprepared, there’s only so much guidance you can give before they have to come to realize that they need to drop the course for their benefit and everyone else’s, including mine.
I walk to my small desk at the back of the room and sit on the edge of it where I have a good view of all of the activity going on. These are the days I like
The temperature’s a little brisk, but my body feels warm all over—like the excitement of seeing her can’t be shaken away even here on the course.
I sit down, extending my legs, and begin bending methodically into stretches.
Standing, I get set into a lunge and then a couple of other positions, holding them, giving my body time to react. I roll my neck and stretch my arms out to my sides, pulling my spine up as straight as I can get it and pushing my chest forward, stepping onto the track for a couple of slow laps around.
As I come around the last corner, I hear the whistle blow. I know what he wants. I jog right up to the starting point.
“I’ll give you two minutes!” he hollers from the side.
Two other runners line up beside me.
I bend my right leg up behind me reaching to get hold of my shoe, and pull it up to the back of my thigh, switching legs, letting out a deep breath, bouncing a little and rolling my shoulders to get centered.
“Ready?!”
I lower into position.
“3—2—1!” Whistle blow!
I get in immediate stride—accelerating—my breathing vents fast.
The speed of the rhythm is second nature.
I’ve lost peripheral sight of the other guys.
I wind my run down to a jog, circling about half of the track.
Coach Lewis is making his way across. “Good time! I expect the same result Saturday!” Compliment or warning, I wasn’t going to try to figure it out. I just knew my job and I had to do it.
I paced myself the rest of practice after proving my time. Any injury now—I’d go from star athlete—to being shunned. As loyal as the student fans are, they wanted Yale to dominate every event—and the feeling of being turned on could rear its ugly head pretty fast.
11
shay
I finish sitting the last fetal pigs on the front, two lab tables.
“Listen up class!” I call over the chatter. The sound winds its way down and I can begin.
My voice has to carry over the entire room. I speak a little more loudly, “We talked about this before you left on break, but since it’s been a little while I want you to review it fast.” I walk around the room passing out the dissection guides. “And I want each lab table deciding which incisions are going to be made by which person before you begin.” A little talking starts to generate. “Wait a minute—before we get started I’ll be coming around to see if you’re organized. After I get to each table, then you’re free to begin. Remember—do not cut—or move, more than is necessary to expose a given structure. And pay particular attention to the spatial relationships of organs and glands as you expose them—know that their positions are not random.” I get to the last lab table and slide the final four guides across it to the remaining, waiting students. “As you’re waiting for me to come around, take a minute and go over your notes quietly.”
I move from table to table checking for their preparedness. As I get to the last one, I look around the room. There’s an excitable eagerness to the near silence. Most of the students left now are the serious ones, with the class being a little more than half its size from when we began. A lot of the students who left ended up enrolled in the introductory biology course with the parents having high hopes of a generational doctor, only to find out that it’s not for them, and some—just slackers, and dead weight for the rest of the class. I’m glad to help anyone out, who’s trying. But when you miss labs and show up late unprepared, there’s only so much guidance you can give before they have to come to realize that they need to drop the course for their benefit and everyone else’s, including mine.
I walk to my small desk at the back of the room and sit on the edge of it where I have a good view of all of the activity going on. These are the days I like
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