By Rick Peterson
Lawrence Today magazine, Fall 2006
Mendeleyev
had his periodic table, Einstein his relativity theory. Bill
Perreault had BIOL 110: Principles of Biology.
Just as the table and the theory enabled the first two scientists to make their
marks, so, too, did the introductory course empower Perreault to make his.
In part because it attracted students from outside the sciences, it was long
a curricular favorite of Perreault, who retired as professor of biology in
June, closing a 35-year career at Lawrence. As the biology department’s “welcoming
face,” he taught the course for 33 of those years.
“I may be a medium-grade scientist, but I’m a damn good instructor,” he
says. “I’d like to think part of my legacy will be the number of
students who received an understanding of the beautiful science of biology
because they took my intro class.”
DeAnne Olsen Cravaritis, ’92, wound up at Lawrence in part because of
Perreault. She discovered what she called his “unique combination of
knowledge, his excitement for both teaching and science, and his caring and
approachable nature” during a stop at Lawrence during her “Summer
of ’87 College Tour.” When she matriculated the following fall,
she was thrilled to learn Perreault would be her advisor as well as her first
college teacher.
“I distinctly remember much of that first introductory biology class,
grinding up mushrooms, working with frogs, observing what happened inside the
cellular
walls of a water plant,” says Cravaritis, a scientific analyst with GenBank
Database at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Md.
“Dr. Perreault was one of the first professors who, by example, taught
me what the Lawrence Difference was all about. His love of teaching
and excitement for the process of discovery were so infectious. He helped me
fall
even more in love with a subject I had determined to be a professional goal
when I was in the seventh grade. He had a gift for making everything both intellectually
accessible and stimulating.”
Students, now teachers
Two other former students — Beth (’83) and Bart (’82) De
Stasio — went on to earn doctorates and returned to Lawrence, where
they have spent the last 14 years as Perreault’s departmental colleagues.
“At least I didn’t turn them off to biology,” says Perreault
with a laugh. “I may not have been the ‘main man,’ but I
played a part. Seeing Beth and Bart come back here with all the talent and
skill that
they have, I like to think they’re also part of my legacy.”
Like Cravaritis, and many other Lawrence biology majors, Beth De Stasio’s
first class here was taught by Perreault.
“Through the years, I’ve seen firsthand, and have learned to appreciate,
how seriously he took the responsibility of teaching the intro course,” says
De Stasio, associate professor of biology and the Raymond H. Herzog Professor
of Science. “Every fall, Bill put on the mantle of ‘Biology 110
Professor.’ He wore the cloak of understanding, nurturing, and passion
for the unifying principles of biology.
“He finds joy in seeing students become excited about biology, and his
reward is the student who finally understands a difficult concept or who creates
a
unique research project as part of introductory biology.”
Perreault arrived at Lawrence in 1971 with an insatiable curiosity about cells
and how they operate. During his three-and-a-half decades of teaching courses
on genetics or helping students create culinary concoctions in his microbiology “food
lab,” his unbridled enthusiasm for his discipline infected many, often
before they were even “officially” students. He embraced his role
as “ambassador professor,” not only for the biology department,
but for the college as a whole.
As a high school senior in college-search mode in the late 1970s, Bart De Stasio
paid a visit to Lawrence with his parents and experienced his first Perreault
encounter. Much like an elephant stepping on your foot, it left a lasting impression.
“I was really excited about this new area of biology, recombinant DNA
research, and the use of electron microscopy to visualize sub-cellular structures
in
organisms,” recalls De Stasio, associate professor of biology. “Unlike
a lot of other places we visited, here we actually got to meet with the resident
geneticist — Professor Perreault. He was fantastic and really wowed us
on Lawrence, showing us his research using recombinant DNA techniques and the
budding electron microscopy facility.
“As we walked off the campus to return home, my father looked at me and
said, ‘This
is the place, isn’t it?’ I couldn’t have agreed more. Although
my career ultimately wound up focusing on ecology, not genetics, I realize
now that it wasn’t so much Bill Perreault’s research or Lawrence’s
facilities that attracted me. It really was his genuine love of this place,
his enthusiasm for working with students. It’s been a privilege to have
been able to teach alongside him for more than a decade. I always try to foster
the same kind of atmosphere here that he showed me so many decades ago.”
The electron microscopist
Well-known for his sense of humor, his tough “gedanken,” and his
ability to juggle overlapping lab experiments for several weeks at a time,
Perreault also firmly established himself as the college’s electron microscope
guru during his 35-year career. When Lawrence was planning Science
Hall in
the late 1990s, he personally
designed the plans for the building’s microscopy suite. Over the years,
he has individually tutored more than 100 students — and a few faculty
colleagues as well — on the finer points of using either Lawrence’s
transmission electron microscope or the newer $200,000 scanning electron microscope.
“I’m extremely proud of that,” says Perreault of his work
with the TEM and SEM. And even more proud, he says, of the fact his twin daughters,
Melanie, ’90, and Michele, ’90, both earned degrees from Lawrence,
although neither followed their father’s biology footsteps.
Wake-up call
In a December 2005, article titled “A Wakeup Call for Science Faculty” that
appeared in the journal Cell, Bruce Alberts, president of the National Academy
of Sciences, discussed the need to improve science courses for undergraduates.
“Our goal as teachers and educators,” he wrote, “should be
to expose our students to the discovery process and to excite them about challenges
at
the frontiers of knowledge.” As far as Nanette Paul Pazdernik, ’90,
is concerned, the “joy and excitement of science” long exhibited
by Perreault epitomizes Dr. Alberts’ call.
“During my senior honors project, he taught me persistence and would
not let me quit when the experiment would not work,” remembers Pazdernik,
a freelance editor who recently co-wrote a soon-to-be published biotechnology
textbook
with David Clark of Southern Illinois University. “Professor Perreault
really believed in me. He genuinely wanted me to work at my highest abilities.
Embodying Dr. Alberts’ wake-up call, he alone exposed me to the discovery
process of science, and he challenged my thinking at the frontiers of knowledge.
“As my children get older,” she adds, “I hope to pursue a
teaching career so that I can inspire other students in the same way Dr. Perreault
inspired
me. He is a wonderful role model.”
Timothy Schedl, ’77, was bitten by Perreault’s genetics bug while
they worked together on a senior research project on fruit fly genetics. Many
Saturdays were spent making large vats of fruit fly food.
“His enthusiasm reinforced my commitment to study genetics in graduate
school,” says
Schedl, now a professor of genetics at the Washington University School of
Medicine.
“Today, when I walk past fruit-fly laboratories, most people say that
the smell of fruit-fly food is horrible, but I find the aroma pleasant. It reminds
me
of my Saturdays working with Dr. Perreault.”
A native of Cohoes, N.Y., Perreault launched his science career as a member
of the U.S. Army. He first put his education as a microbiologist to use while
stationed at Fort Detrick in Maryland, working on early genetic engineering
experiments at the Army’s Biological Laboratories there. He reached the
rank of captain during his seven years in the military and had the honor of
serving as the artillery officer in charge of Fort Detrick’s ceremonial
50-gun salute on the day of President Kennedy’s funeral.
“What I could have done if I knew then what I know now” he says wistfully.
Moving on
Perreault’s short-term plans included an 11-day, celebratory retirement
cruise in French Polynesia that will find him in Tahiti on Christmas, with
longer-range plans possibly involving a move to Maryland’s Eastern
Shore. As he cleans out his third floor Science Hall office, he does so with
the satisfaction
of knowing he left his mark on the science world through the work of his
former students.
“I will miss my colleagues,” Perreault says with characteristic gusto, “but
mostly I will miss my students.”