The Professor

Day 18: In junior high and high school, my classmates called me "the Professor" and as you might expect from kids who were more interested in beer and parties than in books and science, the nickname was not applied kindly. For the most part, I was oblivious to their scorn, too busy analyzing rocks or reading about space to feel left out of the social scene. My best friend indulged me, and often set herself up for the inevitable answer, "It's leaverite...leave 'er right where it is" by asking me to identify a specimen she had in hand. She also teased me about my studious ways, but even at her most snide, it was obvious that she was encouraging my interest in the world around me. It wasn't until we got into high school that she took me aside and explained gently that I was putting people off (boys, particularly). My response was what you might expect: "So?" She went on to marry an engineer, and I survived two husbands, neither of whom were more than marginally interested in scientific pursuits. Unencumbered, the Professor re-emerged to follow her passions for birds (especially corvids) and wildflowers, and if you question any of her colleagues, you'll be told that she's more than just a little cracked on the subject of lichens. Happy Hallowe'en!