Morrill Support

When Jenna told me to meet her for a tour of Morrill Science Center, I had two questions: which one, and why Morrill? The only class I'd had in the archipelago of science centers was a large biochemistry lecture in an unremarkable auditorium. What's tour-worthy about that? But when Jenna met me outside of Morrill III ("the one closest to the FAC and the greenhouses," she'd explained beforehand), she flung open the door with an enthusiastic grin. "I love it here," she said.

As we made our way through the mazelike hallways of the geoscience department, Jenna explained that last semester she'd had to walk through Morrill in a snowstorm, and was so enchanted by the building that she had to take a class in it this semester, despite her reluctance to place herself anywhere that would entail any sort of math. "This building just comforts me," she said, brushing her fingers along the wall, and I could see why. The hallways were papered with classic science posters covered with scientific truths so absolute that they may have been up for decades without losing their value or relevance. Here were periodic tables, solid in their knowledge, and there were maps showing soil densities and topographical areas in delicate linework and pastel colors. We peeked into classrooms filled with complicated equipment -- computers attached to tubes, stacks of books and papers and glassware, plants and foreign tools strewn around empty labs. "This is why I love earth scientists," Jenna said when we stuck our heads into one room of particularly stunning disarray. "This is what my room looks like. This is their work!"



Jenna told me about how when she was younger, she'd wanted to be a scientist. "I had an unhealthy obsession with dinosaurs," she said, and admitted that she'd gone beyond simply researching them, and had, at the age of eight, written away to college professors for more information. Some wrote back, and some didn't, but Jenna had decided to become a paleontologist..."until I realized dinosaurs were all dead, and maybe not that interesting after all." Still, as a grown-up self-professed English nerd studying economics, the hidden hallways of Morrill III hold a certain nostalgia, comfort, and excitement, with its displays describing the results of complex experiments and research in far-off places. I realized that this building was the sort of place I was expecting to learn in when I started college. Bartlett, where I've spent the past four years doing my own, less concrete learning paled in comparison to Morrill, where the academic atmosphere was palpable and electric with the possibility of new discovery.