Last week, I was reminded of my high school days, to be precise, one particular class. As a student of the biosciences, I had bitter-sweet memories of biology practical classes which involved dissection. On the one hand, my teacher praised me for my tissue slides (who called me a natural with the scalpel — no doubt influenced by my father’s rather pre-eminent reputation as a surgeon in our small town); but on the other, as an animal lover, I was sad at the loss of lives the classes led to — of the frogs and lab mice.
And last week,