Dissection Discussions

The first thing that hits you is the smell. It’s keenly chemical, like huffing a thousand sharpies. You smell it before you even see the specimen, which in my case, was a fetal pig. Splaying it out in rather the same manner as a croissant, we made a preliminary incision to drain it of fluids. As the yellowish bile seeped, we simply watched, and waited. 

Looking down at this minuscule creature, it seemed so innocent, so oddly stiff, and moist. I kept thinking it might open its eyes, or softly mewl as if in a dream. But I knew better. Taking a deep breath of formaldehyde, I lifted the scalpel.

For many, the situation I just described would be a nightmare. For others, it would be the basic education of a high school. At BHS, it can be both!

The Dissection Kit

“I love dissection,” says Mrs. St Germain, former Oceanography teacher, “I was excited to share squid (preserved and fresh), fresh clams, oysters, and mussels, preserved starfish, preserved crayfish, preserved perch (fish), and occasionally, preserved anemones. To examine animal diversity is priceless.”

But what was the cost of this ‘animal diversity’? Where did the specimens come from?

Fellow classmate, senior Samira Grace Ismatov, had this to say,

“Companies breed them just to sell the corpses at a slaughterhouse for pregnant pigs. There are instances where they keep frogs for weeks without food so they can use their bodies for dissection. I can see why it’s a part of school, but for the most part I don’t agree with it. After all, I have negative personal experiences. One class dissected rats and students cut off their tails and chased each other around the class. The disrespect makes it an unpleasant experience.”

Turning back to Mrs. St Germain, I had to ask the tough questions: How do you obtain these specimens? Do students respond maturely and respectfully to dissection?

“I only purchased specimens if they had been harvested in a sustainable way,” she says honestly,  “I reminded students that these specimens were living creatures, and that the student's respect for the specimen's life was expected. Still, dissection is definitely not for everyone, and not all students can tolerate the smells or the visuals. I have always allowed students the opportunity to just watch, or to leave the room.”

Taking it all in, I began to reminisce about my own experiences. The fetal pig had been a secondary introduction to death, the first having been whilst hunting deer on my property. Shooting a deer is one thing, but putting down such a magnificent beast with the slice of a hunting knife was just, brutal. Warmth erupted from the open crevice, and the smell was horrific, a mix of iron and something earthy, the scent of muscular flesh. When it was fully devoid of blood, we made sure to use every part of it. The skull and antlers now reside on a shelf in my bedroom, whilst the meat went into a variety of chorizo mixes and stews. That at least, was a comfort.

A fetal pig is different. You sit with a cold scalpel in your hand with a cold beast in front of you and you cut and you slice and you pick apart. There’s a controversy to it, a moral weight.

Whitman College Edu's Virtual Fetal Pig

In all honesty, it never really bothered me. Whilst dissecting the pig, I wore no gloves: they only got in the way. For our more squeamish readers, I assure you, I washed my hands thoroughly post-autopsy. Still, no matter how hard I scrubbed, the formaldehyde lingered. Over the course of the four day dissection, I smelled more sterile than soap. It allowed me to feel better about the pig, as if the cleansing purity of preservative fluids were a mercy.

Writing this now, I struggle to find the right words. 

No, I did not find dissections to be cruel. No, I was not emotionally scarred, upset, or even bothered by dissection. Yes, I do want to convey that fact without sounding like a serial killer. Yes, I am finding it hard to do so.

Still, there are some students who agree with my approach. Laughing along with a fellow senior, Isabelle Queen, we had this conversation,

“I think you’re wrong about the sharpies, it smells like nail polish,” she giggles and chows down on a snack, “other than the smell, I don’t have any problems. But I mean, if you’re taking a class called Anatomy, what else do you expect? Still, I believe there’s a benefit. Scientists suck at art, the diagrams are obnoxious.” 

Diagram of a Fetal Pig

This was a common thread. Everyone complained about the need for physical representations, as well as the fallacies of the diagram. In fact, junior Vivi Fox had this to say,

“Honestly, diagrams are helpful-ish? But the actual real life thing was so much better for me, it actually helped me understand. I’m a very visual person, it can’t just be a diagram.”

When asked about the previous worries regarding animals, they had this to say,

“There was never really concern to me about whether the pig was, gathered, in an ethical way. I know Mrs. Gaertner and I know she does her research. I love animals so much that the thought of them getting hurt sorta, screws me up, you know? Mrs. Gaertner is similar, she loves animals, she would never support anything like that. I trust Mrs. Gaertner.” 

With that, I came to an unexpected conclusion. The truth is that there’s no right answer, no matter which way you cut it, both figuratively and metaphorically. There’s just no real solution to the struggles of whether dissection is to be or not to be. What I decided is that it all comes down to trust. You have to trust the instructor to follow the proper moral and physical procedures before you can definitively say dissection is wrong or right. 

What I’ll say is this: I trust Mrs. Gaertner too. I trust Mrs. St Germain too. Having them as teachers was such a wonderful experience; not only could I tell that they love what they do, but they make you feel comfortable and safe no matter who you are. I have no regrets to dissecting that pig, just like I have no doubts that Mrs. Gaertner would ever put forth an animal without the guarantee of morality. 

So, if you find yourself in a science classroom and you smell sharpies, don’t freak out. You don’t need fight nor flight. Just take a deep breath of that sweet sweet formaldehyde, and trust the learning process.

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Written by Thomas Repass

Photography by Thomas Repass