5569
More retrospect. This one contains Trufax!!
I was lucky in that I knew what I wanted to do from an early age. I don't think everyone can pinpoint the genesis of their passion so clearly as I can, but I've always had a good memory when it came to science.
There was a regular women's careers evening in my first year at university. It was called "smashing the glass ceiling" or something; we had a couple of speakers and then drinks. By the end of the speakers, drinks were usually helpful, because despite the usual optimistic spin we would always come out reminded just how few women there were at the top.
I'm sure I was in love with you by then. Somebody at the table asked, "When did you realise what you wanted to do with your life?", and I thought instantly of you and that book. But a tall girl with short black hair, who was studying War and Conflict at undergrad level, answered first.
"I've always known," she said. "My dad was an officer, his dad was an officer... I used to play with toy guns until they were banned over here. Then I made my own with sticks."
"My dad," cut in a red-haired girl who was on the same course as me, "told me that women who study science are ugly and never get boyfriends. So I took three sciences and maths at A-Level. Fuck him." I think she was drunk already.
A well-groomed student in a headscarf, who had raised her fine eyebrows at the word 'fuck', nodded in approbation after a second. "I wanted to take English at first," she said, "but my parents wanted me to be an engineer. I'm enjoying it more than I thought I would."
It felt like my turn. "There was this kid's book," I began. "History of the Atom."
Headscarf looked at me askance. "I had that one. Aren't you a biochemist?"
"Well, yes. But it got me interested in science. I might have done physics if my A-Level teacher wasn't a complete shit."
He was more than a shit, actually. He was the unofficial school photographer, and periodically would go around taking pictures for our school prospectus. My first memory of him was having him come around the chemistry labs when I was in Year 8. We were a "specialist science college", which meant we got extra funding for scientific equipment, which meant our labs were possibly the most impressive-looking part of the school. Which meant lots of space in the prospectus. He wanted action shots of us picking up test tubes and doing 'science things'. He wanted a girl, presumably for diversity. He told us so.
None of the other girls wanted their photo taken with their goggles and white coats on, but I kept my hand up. Awkwardness ensued. It became quickly apparent that he didn't want to take a photograph of me. In the end he pointed at the little blonde thing two seats over.
"Sarah, would you come over here?"
Well thank you very much Mr Hayes, you unbelievable shit. But I swallowed it, in the way only smart, unpopular girls can swallow things. Years later, when our sixth form yearbook contained (sometimes multiple) pictures of every single person in the year besides myself and two overweight girls, I wasn't surprised, but I did briefly fantasise about his death.
I was lucky in that I knew what I wanted to do from an early age. I don't think everyone can pinpoint the genesis of their passion so clearly as I can, but I've always had a good memory when it came to science.
There was a regular women's careers evening in my first year at university. It was called "smashing the glass ceiling" or something; we had a couple of speakers and then drinks. By the end of the speakers, drinks were usually helpful, because despite the usual optimistic spin we would always come out reminded just how few women there were at the top.
I'm sure I was in love with you by then. Somebody at the table asked, "When did you realise what you wanted to do with your life?", and I thought instantly of you and that book. But a tall girl with short black hair, who was studying War and Conflict at undergrad level, answered first.
"I've always known," she said. "My dad was an officer, his dad was an officer... I used to play with toy guns until they were banned over here. Then I made my own with sticks."
"My dad," cut in a red-haired girl who was on the same course as me, "told me that women who study science are ugly and never get boyfriends. So I took three sciences and maths at A-Level. Fuck him." I think she was drunk already.
A well-groomed student in a headscarf, who had raised her fine eyebrows at the word 'fuck', nodded in approbation after a second. "I wanted to take English at first," she said, "but my parents wanted me to be an engineer. I'm enjoying it more than I thought I would."
It felt like my turn. "There was this kid's book," I began. "History of the Atom."
Headscarf looked at me askance. "I had that one. Aren't you a biochemist?"
"Well, yes. But it got me interested in science. I might have done physics if my A-Level teacher wasn't a complete shit."
He was more than a shit, actually. He was the unofficial school photographer, and periodically would go around taking pictures for our school prospectus. My first memory of him was having him come around the chemistry labs when I was in Year 8. We were a "specialist science college", which meant we got extra funding for scientific equipment, which meant our labs were possibly the most impressive-looking part of the school. Which meant lots of space in the prospectus. He wanted action shots of us picking up test tubes and doing 'science things'. He wanted a girl, presumably for diversity. He told us so.
None of the other girls wanted their photo taken with their goggles and white coats on, but I kept my hand up. Awkwardness ensued. It became quickly apparent that he didn't want to take a photograph of me. In the end he pointed at the little blonde thing two seats over.
"Sarah, would you come over here?"
Well thank you very much Mr Hayes, you unbelievable shit. But I swallowed it, in the way only smart, unpopular girls can swallow things. Years later, when our sixth form yearbook contained (sometimes multiple) pictures of every single person in the year besides myself and two overweight girls, I wasn't surprised, but I did briefly fantasise about his death.