[I was trying to make this the German equivalent of ‘My Struggle with Plants,’ but ‘Mein Kämpfen mit Pflanzen’ is the closest I could get & it’s still grammatically incorrect. Sigh.]

When I applied for financial aid to go to community college, I qualified for a work study job to supplement my grant monies. I could learn & earn at the same time. Though I wasn’t looking to major in plant biology, agriculture, nor even horticulture, I had my eye on a position in the college greenhouse.

My relationship with plants is complex. Plantlife is crazy fascinating. I just have a bad track record caring for them. My father & some sisters took up gardening, while I managed to kill many houseplants. I now leave the tending of plantlife to those less murdery. But I looked at this greenhouse gig as a sweet work study job because plants are peaceful & smell nice.

Being curious in general, I count myself among those who know a little bit about a lot of things. People who specialize can get boxed in. I’m claustrophobic; I don’t want to go into that box. It’s way more free to let one’s curiosity lead the way wherever, even if it’s just for a while. E.g., my limited grammar focus makes the distinction between ‘a while’ & ‘awhile’ imperceptible to me. I can never get it right.

“Hi. I’m here to apply for the greenhouse position,” is all I said to the guy at the desk. Or, I guess, this is all I had to say, since he replied “OK” & handed me a key. I remained standing at the desk, holding the key like it was a puzzle box I had to be careful with lest I open a portal to hell. He said “Just go in. There’s a logbook inside. It’s self-explanatory.”

This was the first work study job I applied for, & I wasn’t aware of the procedure. I knew there were only so many openings & assumed there would be a vetting of applicants. I’d worked in a plant nursery, so I had been hoping I’d have an edge. It was already 2 weeks into the quarter & I was afraid all the positions would be filled. Clearly I overestimated how desirable this job was.

The first week I was completely lost. The logbook my coworkers filled with their completed duties seemed written in code. Would I need an enigma machine? Our shifts didn’t overlap, so there was no one I could ask to decipher it. There were plant care books & botany texts on a shelf, so I delved in, trying to learn what to do for the many varieties of plants here. Eventually one of my plant-mates stopped in for a textbook she’d left behind & said “Mostly we all just take turns watering the various benches.” 

I looked around. The greenhouse wasn’t massive. It wouldn’t take the 4 hrs of a shift just to water a few benches of plants. In fact, the entire greenhouse could be watered in that amount of time. Plus, there was a misting system set on a timer. I looked at her askance & she added “We all have experiments running for Botany class that we tend. & we do potting for the plant sale.”

Then there were the notes. These were nasty missives– the wording a sort of accusatory barking– from the Botany instructor regarding certain plants being infested with parasites. Apparently the work to attend to these ailing plants fell to me, since all my coworkers had bogarted the watering & repotting. These tasks I dutifully took on as The Plant Doctor. At least I didn’t get wet or dirty. 

I was the one who had to suit up in the hazmat coverall & gasmask & spray the concentrated nicotine juice (made from soaking tobacco in water). & the one who had to order the ladybugs– making sure this time to close the windows because the last batch simply escaped. Also, the one doing the exactingly detailed chore of a Qtip dipped in rubbing alcohol to gently coax scale, spitbugs, & spider mites off of each infected plant. & lastly I was the one who had to rearrange the cactus bench, resulting in being the one bloodied & covered in glochids (the tiny hairy needles that look like fuzz) that itch & sting.

At the start of the quarter I had been enrolled in an introductory Botany class. We were made to pair off with a lab partner by the instructor, a large, strident woman with a domineering presence & a seeming disdain for her students. In my opinion, more suited to a military career or a corrections officer.

On the 2nd day of class we were directed to draw some plant cells seen through a microscope. I was having trouble focusing the instrument as the instructor strode among the tables looking at the students’ work. She paused behind me & asked in an exasperated tone what was my problem. Before I even finished a response, she boomed out with: “The shape of the Asian eye often makes things like this difficult,” & stomped away.

My lab partner & I exchanged a ‘WTF?’ look. “Um, racist much,” I said, but our teacher was now on to berating another student so she didn’t hear. Leaving class I turned to my cohort as she was saying “We’re being taught by a nazi botanist.” 

We decided to transfer to a different class. We ended up in political science, the only course still with openings that served the requirement. I admit I don’t really think there’s a science to politics, but the instructor wasn’t obviously bigoted. & we had reported our misgivings about the botany instructor to the administration, tactfully leaving off our nickname for her.

Towards the end of the quarter I had discovered the huge bird’s nest fern kept being hopelessly covered in scale insects. Though I cleaned the mature fronds with the alcohol swabs, I couldn’t get down into the center of the plant where the new growth was forming. All the tiny young fronds were being leeched of life before they could even unfurl. I consulted the books, & they all said drastic measures were in order. I had to cut out all the new growth to keep the plant from being re-infested.

Soon thereafter the nazi botanist stormed into the greenhouse with “You destroyed a 40-yr-old fern! Can’t you read? These books tell you how to care for the plants. We keep this greenhouse going with plant sales!” I told her the fern was going to die if I didn’t treat it & that I had consulted the books & they all said to do the same thing. I admitted that “Yes, it’s unsightly now, but it has a chance to recover this way.” She still glowered at me & went away muttering something about stupid students.

I wasn’t going to let a fascist pin a murder on me. This is one plant I did not kill.