Fat Stuff

In science classes at School Street Elementary School, in Westbury, L. I., pupils study live mice, rabbits, ducks, chicks. They are fond of their pets. One day last October, they got a ten-pound Poland China shoat, six weeks old. Three hundred science pupils took a vote, decided to nickname him Fat Stuff. They made him a nice clean pen with a big trough, running water and a straw bed. They watched him get three vaccinations against hog diseases. They took delight in feeding him tidbits, fed him so well that in three months he grew to 120 pounds.

Recently Jerome Fitzpatrick, superintendent of Westbury's schools, told a science supervisor in the State Education Department about Fat Stuff. The science supervisor suggested educational possibilities in Fat Stuff that had not occurred to Mr. Fitzpatrick.

One day last week 125 pupils gathered dutifully in their schoolyard to watch Fat Stuff's last lesson. First a health inspector examined Fat Stuff. Then he gave the silent children a lecture on hog inspection. Then he slit Fat Stuff's throat.

Afterwards the pupils went downstairs to the boiler room, there quietly watched a science teacher dissect Fat Stuff. They saw where bacon, ham and pork chops come from, saw Fat Stuff's stomach, lungs, liver, heart. In a few days any pupils who have the appetite for it will be able to eat Fat Stuff in the school cafeteria.

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