Free The Misconception by Darlene Gardner

like ducking under the sink. The coed smiled, all white teeth, dark hair and olive skin. Then she clapped her face with both hands. “Oh, my God. You’re Dr. Dalrymple, aren’t you?”
Marietta nodded, taking a step backward to protect her ears from the squealing.
“Oh, my God!” the coed said. “I can’t believe it. This is so radical.”
“What’s radical?” Marietta asked suspiciously.
    “Running into you in the restroom, that’s what. The rest of the FOCs will be so jealous they’ll have a cow. Nobody else had to go.”
    Marietta was at a loss as to why the girl was acting like she was a rock star instead of a Ph.D. specializing in evolutionary biology. True, up to this point, her career had been remarkable. She’d finished her doctorate at the age of twenty-seven. After teaching at Kennedy for three years, she was putting together a tenure package that would come up for review next year. Her class was popular, in large part because her specialty was biological matters relating to sex, but that hardly qualified her as a celebrity.
    “I don’t understand,” Marietta said. “Although, as a biology professor, I need to inform you that foxes can’t have cows. Animals mate within their own species.”
    The girl laughed. “That was a good one,” she said, clapping her dainty hands. “I didn’t say foxes. I said FOCs. It’s an acronym for Feminists On Campus. I’m Vicky Valenzuela, the president. I organized a group to sit in on your class.”
    Marietta was proficient enough at lecturing that she didn’t harbor any false modesty, but her audience typically consisted of students taking the class for college credit. “Why?”
    Vicky’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve been like a role model for our group since that feature story in the Washington Post last week. I picked up the academic journal that published your article and copied it for all the other FOCs. I even thumbtacked it to the bulletin board in my dorm.”
    “You thumbtacked Motherhood Without Males to your dorm bulletin board?”
    “Yes,” Vicky answered enthusiastically. “That was absolutely brilliant. We FOCs wholly embrace the notion that females can do anything they choose whether a man is involved or not. It’s the ultimate feminist viewpoint.”
    Marietta’s stomach did a roll not quite as acrobatic as the one that had led her to the restroom. She pulled some crackers out of her purse, tore open the package, chewed and swallowed.
    “Actually,” she said, “I believe you missed my point. I wasn’t stating a feminist viewpoint. I was giving my opinion as a biologist who has studied animal behavior related to sex.
    “When was the last time, for example, you saw Mallard ducklings following their father? The mother’s the one they need. It’s the same thing with baby alligators. The mother stays near them for a year or more. The father, who I prefer to call the sperm supplier, departs before the mother even lays her eggs. She does just fine without him.”
    “Cool.” Vicky leaned back against a sink. The mirror reflected the scene: The tiny ardent feminist and the much-larger nauseous biologist. “Just like I said: A woman doesn’t need a man to succeed. I can hardly wait to hear today’s lecture. What’s the topic?”
    “Mating behavior. I’m going to talk about the reasons women and men are attracted to one another. Then I’ll present my theory on why love is a four-letter word for sex.”
    “What does that have to do with feminism?”
    “I told you I’m a biologist, not a—”
    “Oh, now I get it,” Vicky interrupted. “You’re going to instruct college-age feminists about the manipulative ways of men so we can better compete in today’s sexist climate.”
    Marietta rubbed at one of her eyes, intending to tell Vicky that wasn’t her intention at all, when her vision went blurry. “Oh, no,” she wailed. “I’ve just lost one of my contacts.”
    “Hold perfectly still,” Vicky