I learned the most about health through death. Is that irony? Or a paradox? Or simply a coincidental fact of life?

While you'll have to consult the AP Language class about the literary significance of whatever rhetorical device I just unknowingly employed, one thing is for certain: it is through the hands-on dissections of dead specimens in my physiology class at GBHS that I really began to understand the basics about living.

Granite Bay High School has a pretty extensive science department. And the resources that our school has access to make the classes engaging and interesting.

It's the peanut-burning lab in biology that demonstrates caloric values; it's the honors chemistry electron cards; it's the physiology healthy food project. These are all educational staples that work to hold the science department together.

It is through hands-on and interactive activities like these that students really are able to learn about their health, well-being and science.

But the physiology labs - those smelly, messy and admittedly disgusting dissection days - were what I've found to be the most educational. And what I learned during those days (besides to remember that I wouldn't need lunch or have an appetite after class) was invaluable.

Lab tables in science class are like little microcosms of real life; they represent splices of personalities in the teenage society. There is the "go-getter-eager-beaver" who's the first to grab the scalpel. She's complemented by the "too-hesitant-to-touch-the-specimen-for-fear-of-breaking-a-nail." And then everyone else falls into place between the two extremes.

The lesson we're forced to learn is how to work in sync. We're forced to capitalize on other people's strengths, admit our own weaknesses and compromise together. We're forced to dismiss our hubris, tie back our hair and dig in.

And that, for me, was what made dissecting a fetal pig for two class periods bearable.

I was too finicky to do it on my own the first day (the formaldehyde-stained piglet still had little hairs on his chinny-chin-chin for goodness sakes). So I focused on the written part of the lab and deferred the more graphic tasks to my lab partners.

This balance and teamwork made it enjoyable.

And we had fun. Really. We named him Petey. We weighed the spleen and kidneys and liver. We jumped rope with the small intestine.

The second day, I came to class a bit more confident, a bit more eager, a bit more willing to dig in. And I probed inside Petey a bit, exploring his internal cavity and reproductive system.

During those two days, I overcome my irrational (or natural) fear of fetal pig. I was able to identify his pancreas. I could trace his lungs.

But more importantly, I learned about teamwork. To be successful in whatever our pursuits are, we must be able to relinquish our pride and be willing to take risks.

Stepping out of your comfort zone is extremely healthy. Especially when we have the support of the three little lab partner piggies to help us through it.