The Lone Star Girl had to research a disease and make a (preferably edible) model of it for her biology class that was due on the Friday before break. She chose HIV/AIDS and wrote an amazing paper about it - really amazing. I know she's a brilliant girl but I was still a bit shocked at how much she came to understand about virology (now that she has explained it to me, we both suspect that viruses are Evil - something that is really messing with my world view, as I don't really believe in Evil, or don't want to...also, HIV is like those creepy Vidians in Star Trek). She made a cake for her model, decorating it with candy in the form of the virus - can't imagine how the class would want to eat that, but they were all bringing edible disease models to share - West Nile rice krispy treats, Ebola brownies, etc..
She has really been loving her biology class this year. She especially digs microbiology. She is so into it - just fascinated. It is making her rethink her aspirations.
Not much more than a year ago, I would have pegged the Lone Star Girl to be a political science professor for sure when she grows up. While I personally would prefer her to go into an environmental science and save the world with her enormous brain, that is where she seemed headed. At some point in 8th grade, she decided that she wanted to be a nurse-midwife. Given her own medical issues and my occasional (daily) worries about the collapse of modern society, I could not argue with such a practical choice, even though I do sort of still feel like the world needs her to tackle something a bit more global. The idea of her with nursing know-how is pretty comforting to me.
Now, though - I don't know. She is so into microbiology that she may want to be some sort of research scientist. I couldn't see her wanting to work for Big Pharma, so the college professor thing may be cropping up again, but in a new field. Watching children unfold their gifts seems to be a game of endless motion. It fascinates me as much as all the little molecules fascinate her.
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