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Being the random thoughts of a middle aged overeducated physician, father, and citizen. James M. Small MD PhD. Send me a reply to jmsmall @ mycap.org.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Binary People
There are 10 kinds of people: those who know Binary and those who don't.
On making a cell model--1969
On making a cell model
Jim Small, ninth-grade, 1969.
I. Visualization:
Some days ago, our sadistic biology teacher, Mr. Richard Bly, gave us a challenging assignment. He called the class to order and said, "by March the fourth, you will have built a three-dimensional model of a cell. It will contain the following: a nucleus, a nucleolus, Golgi bodies, etc...."
I sat smugly, visualizing a gleaming plastic sphere that I would bring in -- amazing everyone with its beauty and accuracy. I thought of how I would use red kidney beans for the mitochondria, green marbles for the chloroplasts, clear marbles for the vacuoles, beads on a wire for the centriole, and most brilliant of all, marbles inside a separately poured nucleus, to simulate the nucleolus. My genius astounded me. I had a sure A!
II. Construction:
I gave my mother a shopping list and she gulped a little and got me the things I needed. On Saturday morning, bright and early, I began the construction of my sure A. I filed a hole in my second ping-pong ball. (The first had died as the result of an operation with a dull saw.) I deftly bored the hole in the top (?) And mixed the first of the plastic, my thoughts were all cheerful and optimistic. I mixed a catalyst and some purple dye, for authenticity, and poured it in the hole. And waited. And waited. I had the marble, and even some little steel springs for chromosomes. I just had to get it perfect. I am still waiting.
Next morning, it was still gooey, and the whole house smelled awful. After having taken the ingredients in my own room (my mother insisted,) I poured the first layer of plastic into my big, round glass mold. I had even figured out, in my brilliance, that it had to be poured in layers so that all the things that I was going to put in would be distributed throughout the ball, instead of lying in a heap at the bottom. I put in just a pinch of blue-green glitter for ribosomes, and several kidney beans, mitochondria. Then I dropped in a few green marbles, and clear marbles for vacuoles. Saran wrap seemed like a likely addition for the endoplasmic reticulum. It was gorgeous I congratulated myself I stood back as far as I could, and admired to taking a deep breath of fume with a little air in it.
Panic struck as I realized a little late that I had not a working nucleus. With blinding speed, I filed a hole in our remaining ping pong ball. This time I took out the bottom. Realizing that I wanted a transparent nucleus that was not all gooey, I left most of the dye out, and added lots of catalyst. This one had to harden, and fast. Then in mounting panic, I poured some more layers into the rapidly hardening cell. It was over half full already, and my nucleus wasn't hard. It was getting very hot, though, and sticky. Finally the nucleus hardened enough so that I could get the ping-pong ball off of it. I peeled while I reflected on how clever I was. It wouldn't fit in the hole in the glass mold. I swore. I pushed. I finally hammered it through and it fell with a plop into the half solid mass below. Since I had wasted some of the plastic, it didn't quite fill the mold. When reason returned, I inductively reasoned that I could fix it if I put in seven or eight more chloroplasts, and lots of vacuoles and everything else that I hadn't put in yet. It still has a flat top.
Then catalytic action took over my cell. Superheated air tried vainly to escape from the folds of Saran wrap. Steam exploded from boiling beans. A hissing noise came from the mold. The internal pressure mounted. I worried. I visualized a terrible explosion and pieces of half cured plastic dripping from my walls and ceiling. I waited and watched. The internal pressure mounted. A strange odor wafted through the already polluted air in my room. Baked beans? The cell suddenly cracked and lines appeared in all directions.
My dad came in, took one look, and ran for towels to put around the hissing, boiling, cracking "cell", opened a window, and ordered everyone out of the room.
One hour later. To our amazement, it didn't explode. I am still trying to think of an explanation for the cracks. Perhaps some horrible disease?
Next time I'll bring a shoebox.
Jim Small, ninth-grade, 1969.
I. Visualization:
Some days ago, our sadistic biology teacher, Mr. Richard Bly, gave us a challenging assignment. He called the class to order and said, "by March the fourth, you will have built a three-dimensional model of a cell. It will contain the following: a nucleus, a nucleolus, Golgi bodies, etc...."
I sat smugly, visualizing a gleaming plastic sphere that I would bring in -- amazing everyone with its beauty and accuracy. I thought of how I would use red kidney beans for the mitochondria, green marbles for the chloroplasts, clear marbles for the vacuoles, beads on a wire for the centriole, and most brilliant of all, marbles inside a separately poured nucleus, to simulate the nucleolus. My genius astounded me. I had a sure A!
II. Construction:
I gave my mother a shopping list and she gulped a little and got me the things I needed. On Saturday morning, bright and early, I began the construction of my sure A. I filed a hole in my second ping-pong ball. (The first had died as the result of an operation with a dull saw.) I deftly bored the hole in the top (?) And mixed the first of the plastic, my thoughts were all cheerful and optimistic. I mixed a catalyst and some purple dye, for authenticity, and poured it in the hole. And waited. And waited. I had the marble, and even some little steel springs for chromosomes. I just had to get it perfect. I am still waiting.
Next morning, it was still gooey, and the whole house smelled awful. After having taken the ingredients in my own room (my mother insisted,) I poured the first layer of plastic into my big, round glass mold. I had even figured out, in my brilliance, that it had to be poured in layers so that all the things that I was going to put in would be distributed throughout the ball, instead of lying in a heap at the bottom. I put in just a pinch of blue-green glitter for ribosomes, and several kidney beans, mitochondria. Then I dropped in a few green marbles, and clear marbles for vacuoles. Saran wrap seemed like a likely addition for the endoplasmic reticulum. It was gorgeous I congratulated myself I stood back as far as I could, and admired to taking a deep breath of fume with a little air in it.
Panic struck as I realized a little late that I had not a working nucleus. With blinding speed, I filed a hole in our remaining ping pong ball. This time I took out the bottom. Realizing that I wanted a transparent nucleus that was not all gooey, I left most of the dye out, and added lots of catalyst. This one had to harden, and fast. Then in mounting panic, I poured some more layers into the rapidly hardening cell. It was over half full already, and my nucleus wasn't hard. It was getting very hot, though, and sticky. Finally the nucleus hardened enough so that I could get the ping-pong ball off of it. I peeled while I reflected on how clever I was. It wouldn't fit in the hole in the glass mold. I swore. I pushed. I finally hammered it through and it fell with a plop into the half solid mass below. Since I had wasted some of the plastic, it didn't quite fill the mold. When reason returned, I inductively reasoned that I could fix it if I put in seven or eight more chloroplasts, and lots of vacuoles and everything else that I hadn't put in yet. It still has a flat top.
Then catalytic action took over my cell. Superheated air tried vainly to escape from the folds of Saran wrap. Steam exploded from boiling beans. A hissing noise came from the mold. The internal pressure mounted. I worried. I visualized a terrible explosion and pieces of half cured plastic dripping from my walls and ceiling. I waited and watched. The internal pressure mounted. A strange odor wafted through the already polluted air in my room. Baked beans? The cell suddenly cracked and lines appeared in all directions.
My dad came in, took one look, and ran for towels to put around the hissing, boiling, cracking "cell", opened a window, and ordered everyone out of the room.
One hour later. To our amazement, it didn't explode. I am still trying to think of an explanation for the cracks. Perhaps some horrible disease?
Next time I'll bring a shoebox.
