Self-TaughtI was majoring in pre-law at a Midwestern liberal arts college. My classes ran the educational gamut: political science, philosophy, English—nothing I couldn’t handle. Still, I had to take at least one science or math class in order to get my degree. Math was out; my GPA couldn’t tolerate what was sure to be a less than stellar grade. I opted, instead, for biology. I knew my ass from my elbow, so I thought I had a fair shot at it. It had been easy enough in high school, anyway.
Then again, college wasn’t high school. And asses and elbows weren’t listed on the syllabus.
Meaning, I was royally f****d and no lube for miles.
Still, there was one saving grace: Professor Marks may have been a hard grader, but he was easy on the eyes. Tall, thin, scruffy, wearing tweed jackets, bow
