mcfarland
An Examination of Learning and Healing
“Cancer is mitosis gone wild!” screeched a nasally-driven voice. Clad in plaid pants and coke-bottle glasses, a 75-year old man standing at only 5 and a half feet tall, [Mr. Jones] tried to explain uncontrollable cell division in modern terms. Students could hear his resonating voice from miles away, and it is that voice that gave me my first taste of the art of genetics. Mr. Jones’ spritely energy sparked my fascination with the most phenomenal language on earth that every living creature shares. Constructing the double helix with pipe cleaners and jelly beans, memorizing how transcription occurs or cutting and pasting karyotypes together constituted only a tiny fraction of the information Mr. Jones instilled in me.
Through this preliminary study, pieces of my own life began to integrate with the intricate world of science. My interest opened the doors to examine the diseases that have affected my family and me and turn to research and medicine for the cures.
One unpleasant aspect of genetic disease is that often they come unexpectedly and with little warning. A few summers ago, my little sister [Lisa]’s face began to undergo a startling metamorphosis. Her skin, once bronze and glistening, began turning white as death and splotchy. My sister’s precious forehead, hair and eyelids began to look like a pale jigsaw puzzle, interrupting her once perfect complexion. This genetic disorder, vitiligo, has permanently changed her appearance and her daily life. I looked on angrily, frustrated by my helplessness, as doctors prescribed her various treatment creams, but offered no cure. My love for my little sister and unrelenting wish for her happiness fueled me to seek the source of her problem – which lies in genetic research.
Some genetic diseases, though, cannot heal with creams or pills. Another genetic disorder has struck my family – this one much more widespread. A devastating disease has affected my mother’s
“Cancer is mitosis gone wild!” screeched a nasally-driven voice. Clad in plaid pants and coke-bottle glasses, a 75-year old man standing at only 5 and a half feet tall, [Mr. Jones] tried to explain uncontrollable cell division in modern terms. Students could hear his resonating voice from miles away, and it is that voice that gave me my first taste of the art of genetics. Mr. Jones’ spritely energy sparked my fascination with the most phenomenal language on earth that every living creature shares. Constructing the double helix with pipe cleaners and jelly beans, memorizing how transcription occurs or cutting and pasting karyotypes together constituted only a tiny fraction of the information Mr. Jones instilled in me.
Through this preliminary study, pieces of my own life began to integrate with the intricate world of science. My interest opened the doors to examine the diseases that have affected my family and me and turn to research and medicine for the cures.
One unpleasant aspect of genetic disease is that often they come unexpectedly and with little warning. A few summers ago, my little sister [Lisa]’s face began to undergo a startling metamorphosis. Her skin, once bronze and glistening, began turning white as death and splotchy. My sister’s precious forehead, hair and eyelids began to look like a pale jigsaw puzzle, interrupting her once perfect complexion. This genetic disorder, vitiligo, has permanently changed her appearance and her daily life. I looked on angrily, frustrated by my helplessness, as doctors prescribed her various treatment creams, but offered no cure. My love for my little sister and unrelenting wish for her happiness fueled me to seek the source of her problem – which lies in genetic research.
Some genetic diseases, though, cannot heal with creams or pills. Another genetic disorder has struck my family – this one much more widespread. A devastating disease has affected my mother’s