I stood, surveying my closet trying to decide what to wear. I had an appointment with the Chairman of the Biology Department at 2 that afternoon. I was a 17-year old freshman at the University of Connecticut and I wanted to make a good impression. I chose the blue corduroy skirt and the light blue sweater, black tights, and dress shoes. It wasn’t much of a decision; it was my only choice if I was going to dress up. Sighing, I reasoned that the Chairman would have no way of knowing it was my only skirt.

The late fall afternoon was sunny, but quite chilly and as I walked across campus I made a mental note to wear a jacket to marching band practice at 4. The college was alive with students walking between classes and catching a few rays of sunshine before cold weather really descended.

I entered the Life Sciences building and found the Biology Department office. The secretary instructed me to take a seat and knocked on the Chairman’s door to let him know that I had arrived. I silently practiced my speech hoping that he could help me change my major from special education to neurobiology. After a few minutes, a tall man dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt opened the door and invited me in.

“Thank you,” I said and entered nervously. The Department Chairman was standing desk, the surface strewn with papers.. A half finished cup of coffee sat in the only clear space on the gray metal desktop, next to an ashtray filled with cigarette butts and ashes. His office was lined with shelves, overflowing with books and models of body parts. A human skeleton hung on a stand in the corner of his office.

“How can I help you… um… ” he looked at the slip of paper his secretary had passed to him. “…Miss Robsky” He did not introduce himself, sit down, or invite me to do so.

“I want to change my major to neurobiology.” He looked surprised. I continued, “In high school, I volunteered with kids with autism and other learning problems, and at first I thought I would major in special education. In 11^th grade, I wrote a paper about autism and how it comes from bad mothering – so then I thought that instead of teaching, I should major in psychology to learn more about the causes. But I am taking Psych 100 now, and it is just not answering my questions. I read that some people think autism may be related to brain problems… or I mean.. neurology or … neuro… anyway, I want to major in neurobiology and cure autism.” I finished with conviction.

The Chairman gave me a bemused smile and answered slowly, “Well, that is something you would study in graduate school, not in college. And, if you really want to do that, you should major in chemistry for a more quantitative physical basis for your graduate work.”

Graduate school? Graduate work? What was he talking about?

He continued, “Have you taken any chemistry in high school or university?”

“Yes, in high school. But this is my first semester in college and I’m taking German, Psych, Calculus, Band, and English.”

“Calculus– good,” he nodded approvingly. “I suggest you register for Chem 117 next semester. You’ll be one semester out of sync but should be able to get back on track after a couple semesters.”

He sat down and said, “Good luck to you.” He picked up his phone. Our meeting was over.

I walked out of the biology building, my mind racing. Chemistry? This makes no sense. What does chemistry have to do with neurobiology or autism? Biology seems closer. Plus, I hated high school chemistry. I hated high school math. To be honest, I hated the bio course I took senior year, too. But, the Biology Chairman said it would be my best pathway. He should know, right?

I went back to my dorm room, made a cup of tea and pondered the possibilities of a chemistry major. I wasn’t expecting that. Chemistry? Was he just trying to move me along? An hour later, no closer to a decision, I walked to band practice, arriving a few minutes early.

As we got our instruments ready, I struck up a conversation with Dory, another clarinet player, and told her about my conversation with the biology guy.

“Chemistry?” she asked. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know. I hated it in high school. Especially the lab. I had a lab partner that ALWAYS spilled our solutions or broke the beakers or something.”

“Did you pass?” Dory asked.

“Of course. I did well in the class actually. I just didn’t like it much. Except that project I did with this guy named Dale– he is a trombone player, but went to another college– where we calculated the number of oxygen molecules in our gym, with and without people in the bleachers. It was kind of cool.”

Dory rolled her eyes and looked at me quizzically. “Chemistry? You? It sounds really hard!”

“Dory, what do you mean? You don’t think I can do it? I think I could. Why not?”

“You just don’t strike me as a chemistry major. You’re not a toad. Are you going to turn into a toad?”

I laughed. “What do you have against toads? Maybe chemistry wouldn’t be so bad. And, if it leads me to learn about autism, it will be worth it”

Dory wasn’t convinced. “Yeah. Sure. Ribbet”

“Well, I’ll think about it anyway,” I said, but thought, Yes, chemistry. Why not?

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