Below is a collection of stories, videos, and congratulatory remarks celebrating the BMB Class of 2020. If you have a message for the BMB Class of 2020, please fill out this form.
On behalf of the faculty and staff of the BMB program I extend my deepest congratulations to the members of the class of 2020. While your class will always be linked to the COVID-19 pandemic, do not let this take away from the impressive achievement of your finishing one of the most demanding undergraduate curriculums at Boston University. In a typical year, I would I would now spend a few minutes of the BMB convocation musing over the events of recent years. But in these unprecedented times, from pop culture to science, there’s really only one thing on our minds. With that said, who better to help navigate what lies ahead than a BMBer? Whether in the laboratory, hospital, or classroom, you will be leaders making the science-based decisions that get us through this crisis and any challenges that lie ahead. I’m putting my trust in you and looking forward to your continued success!
– Professor John Celenza, Director of the BMB Program
Congratulations BMB Class of 2020!
– Professor Kim McCall, Chair of Biology
To Nat and Meera – thanks for being amazing friends for these past four years and for always enabling my Pavement addiction. So proud of you both and I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you’re going to do next!
– Rose, Class of 2020
Dear Graduates,
What a wonderful experience it has been for me to teach many of you in CH109. My job: attempting to convey the very best ideas in molecular science to bright, motivated, and curious students. Should I even be paid to do that? I learned so much from you and thank you for the energy and enthusiasm you brought to our course, converting so much heat into useful work (see below). I wish I could have seen you after an in-person BMB convocation to congratulate you. You have accomplished so much in your courses, your research, and your service, and enriched the life or our university. I wish you the very best and will always be happy to hear from you.
My best,
John Straub, Professor Chemistry
Dear BMB Graduates:
Here’s a memory from a past BI552 class… Let me start by saying that I love you all. You are smart, hard-working, nice… And funny.
Though BI552 is a big class, I always aspire to run it in a way that students feel comfortable enough to ask questions and be interactive. That’s why I always project a joke or an amusing story onto the screen at the front of the lecture hall before class–to try to foster that kind of relaxed atmosphere.
When it’s time to start class, students are always chattering away, and I usually say something like “Greetings! Last time we left off at…” And at the end of lectures, I finish with, “OK, that’s it for today. But are there any final questions or comments?”
Usually at the beginning when I say “Greetings! Last time we left off at…” the chattering fades away fairly quickly.
Though not always. But I don’t mind. I just launch into the lecture, knowing that in a moment or two the chattering will stop, or some students will do some sush-ing.
But there was this one time, when the class was unusually rambunctious, and no one did any sush-ing.
I am reluctant to demand that students come to attention, because I know their natural tendency is to rebel. So… What to do?
I had an idea. I started telling a story from my 8th grade physics class.
Mr. Henshen was our teacher. He was a nice person, but slightly awkward, so sometimes the class got a little unruly. Though it wasn’t too bad.
One day, he started teaching aerodynamics. He wanted to show us how and why a rudder changed the direction of an airplane. After explaining the principle, he folded a paper airplane and tossed it. It went fairly straight. Then he showed us that if the back of the paper airplane was bent in one direction (like turning a rudder), it would fly to the right. He demonstrated.
Then Mr. Henshen looked out at the class and said something like, “Why don’t you all take out a piece of paper, make a paper airplane and try it.” I remember thinking to myself: You’ve got to be kidding. This is not going to turn out like you think.
It started off calmly enough. But it wasn’t long before…
Some of the boys were standing on their seats, trying to fly their planes back and forth to each other. Others were using their airplanes as missiles, trying to bonk someone on the head. Someone else had opened a window and soon a bunch of students were launching their airplanes outside.
It was bedlam. It was mayhem. The noise got louder and louder.
Meanwhile, Mr. Henshen seemed oblivious. He ignored our shenanigans and went on demonstrating other aerodynamic principles.
Within minutes, the School Principe, Mr. Henderson (who was very intimidating!) marched into the room. Everyone froze. He said something like, “That’s better. Mr. Henshen would you kindly bring your class to order. You are disturbing some of the nearby classrooms.”
Within seconds of starting to tell this story, my BI552 class had stopped their chattering and were listening. At the end of the story, I explained that I had only decided to tell the story to bring the class to order. I smiled. The students chuckled. I then proceeded with the lecture. Of course, finishing with, “That’s it for today. Any questions or comments.” There were none. I remember feeling pleased with how I’d handled the situation.
At the beginning of the next class when I said, “Greeting! Last time we left off at…” a number of students scattered around the room stood up and launched a bunch of paper airplanes.
The class erupted in hysterics. Me too. I told them how clever that had been. In fact, I’m always delighted when students show they feel comfortable enough to make jokes, even at my expense.
But I felt like I had to say something, so I said, “Boy, I sure wish I didn’t have to teach molecular biology today. Wouldn’t it be a whole lot more fun to just tell jokes for the whole period. I’d sure like to tell you the Pancho Villa joke. But… Your parents aren’t paying me to tell jokes, so let’s get back to molecular biology.”
That’s when someone in the back called out, “Tell the Pancho Vila joke.”
Everyone laughed again, including me.
So, I explained that I’d picked a bad example, because the Pancho Villa joke is very scatological, so I couldn’t tell it in class. But maybe, if someone ran into me outside of class, then…”
That’s when I had this sinking feeling that I’d made a mistake. That I’d gone too far. [You’d think I would have learned something from witnessing Mr. Henshen.]
But nothing happened the next day. And no one stopped me on the streets. And class went along swimmingly over the last month of the semester.
When I finished the last lecture, I said, “So that’s the end of all the lecture material. Are there any final questions or comments?”
Someone in the back called out, “Tell the Pancho Villa joke!”
That’s why I love my students. They are smart, hardworking, nice… AND… They are funny.
– Professor Ed Loechler, Professor of Biology
2020 Annual BMB Symposium, use the password 6U&?@8k. (include the period at the end) to access the Zoom recording.