Dimension of Realism : Dissection of Human Corpse Puts Students to the Test

The students in the advanced biology class at Oak Park High School dissected a human cadaver Tuesday and, in the process, learned about more than bones and tissue.

As they cut out the lungs and heart of a pale yellow corpse stretched before them, the 18 juniors and seniors learned who among them was, and was not, cut out for a career in medicine.

“I was considering it until I saw this,” said Warren Kim, 17, who immediately shrank to the back of the room. “I thought it would be interesting but I’m having second thoughts.”

Candace McDonald, on the other hand, signed up to put on scrubs and assist a guest surgeon with the cutting. The 17-year-old senior was confident that she could stomach the task.

“I ate lunch just before. At Taco Bell,” she said. “I mean, I’ve waited all year to do this. I like dissecting things and I’ve always wanted to do something in this field.”

The practice of allowing high school students to work on human corpses is not new. Claremont High School made national news by instituting such a class in 1978.

“You don’t really need a cadaver to teach anatomy, but it adds a dimension of realism,” said Robert P. Walker, the teacher who founded the course. “You’re giving high-school kids college-type exposure.”

Still, fetal pigs and cats remain the most common subjects.

The Los Angeles Unified School District does not use human cadavers, various administrators said Tuesday, because of concern about formaldehyde fumes and the sensitivity of young minds. “It might be too much for some of the students,” said Sharon Stewart, a physiology teacher at Francisco Bravo Medical Magnet High School in Los Angeles.

However, no problems or complaints have been reported from the handful of Ventura County schools that provide hands-on lessons in human anatomy.

Westlake High School offers a year-long course modeled after the gross anatomy taught to first-year medical students. For the last four years, Oak Park has devoted five class sessions over three weeks.

Naturally, they tend to be the talk of the campus each spring. Winnie Litten, the teacher, draws blinds over the doorways to ward off gawkers. On Tuesday, the student who collects attendance sheets from each class refused to enter the biology room.

“I’m scared,” she called from outside.

Inside, students giggled and whispered among themselves in the moments before a lesson they had anticipated since the start of the school year.

“Two nights ago, I had a nightmare,” said David Paik, 17, who is considering a career in medicine. “I was climbing a mountain. Over the mountain, I saw the body. It was ready to be opened.”

Paik and the others were told that the corpse had been a 91-year-old man who died of a heart attack and had given permission for his body to be used for research and education.

“Is he Caucasian?” one boy asked asked.

“He’s beyond Caucasian,” another quipped. “He’s beyond albino.”

The chatter stopped when the body bag was unzipped and students could see the cadaver’s gaunt face, mouth agape. Dr. Steven Weinstein, a Kaiser Permanente surgeon who volunteered to lead the heart-and-lungs session, discretely covered the head with a towel and quickly led his assistants through the first incision.

“Once we cut him, he didn’t look so human,” said Kelli Bernard, 17, one of the assistants. “He didn’t look like us.”

The cadaver, it seemed, had become a life-sized Mr. Science toy. Soon, Candace was reaching eagerly into the chest cavity to wrap her hands around the heart.

“Like Jell-O,” she said. “But firmer. Like a stress ball.”

Even Warren had recovered sufficiently to ask Weinstein about physical evidence of heart failure. Someone else asked about the risk of contamination, and Weinstein assured the students that the virtually bloodless, preserved tissue could not transmit disease. In the second row, Mike Tran was taking notes.

Bound for UC Irvine, Tran wants to become an anesthesiologist like his uncle. He brought a camera to snap pictures.

“I had some extra film left from the prom,” the 18-year-old senior said.

Then he paused, considering the combination of photographs that would be developed.

“It’s going to be kind of weird.”