The Outlandish Companion - Diana Gabaldon [121]
I didn’t realize it consciously at the time, but there was another reason for the choice of World War II as Claire’s original time— that being the “echo” between the Jacobite Rising and the Second World War, in terms of the effect of these conflicts on society.
The ’45 put an end to the feudal system of the Highland clans, and—as a side effect—threw a large number of Scottish immigrants out into the New World, where they contributed extensively to the development of what would become America. In a similar way, the disruptions and displacements of World War II resulted in a much larger wave of immigrants, who in their turn altered American society and contributed greatly to its modern form.
A side effect of wars is social disruption, and while this is usually unfortunate in individual terms, it not infrequently has unexpectedly beneficial side effects. One result of the Jacobite disaster was the emigration to the New World of numerous Scottish Highlanders—who then contributed greatly to the growth and prosperity of their newly founded country. Results of World War II included the development of the military-industrial complex, which has led to such benefits as space exploration, the development of computers, and the concomitant technological explosion that has transformed modern life.
Major wars invariably lead to rapid developments in medicine—for obvious reasons. The linkage of Claire’s occupation to a wartime background, once suggested, became inevitable—and that linkage in turn led to the development of her character and personal history.
MEDICAL BACKGROUND
Where did I get Claire’s medical background? Well, that was yet another accident.
As a graduate student, I was fortunate enough to have a full scholarship, and therefore was not given a position as a teaching assistant (a common way for university departments to help students earn their way), the university reasonably feeling that these positions should be reserved for students who needed the income. However, my advisory committee was concerned that I should have at least some slight experience with teaching, since it was likely that I would teach at some point in the future.
In consequence, the university awarded me one-eighth of a teaching assistantship; I taught one lab class per week, for which I earned the princely sum of twenty dollars—the low point of my working life, in terms of income. The only class available for me to teach was the lab portion of a class in human anatomy and physiology— and so I taught human anatomy and physiology, in spite of the fact that this class had nothing to do with my own scientific background or aspirations.
Well, time marched on and so did I—to Philadelphia, where my husband was getting an MBA at the Wharton School of Business, and I was trying to find a job so we wouldn’t starve. In fact, I found two jobs: The first was a postdoctoral appointment at University of Pennsylvania, where I raised ringdoves and butchered seabirds for a living (this was the low point of my working life in terms of occupational conditions. I couldn’t eat fried chicken for nearly a year). The second was a part-time job at Philadelphia Community College, where my “experience” in teaching human anatomy and physiology landed me a job teaching … human anatomy and physiology.
This job in turn led to my teaching the same class to nursing students at Temple University, and ultimately, to my teaching the same class—good old human anatomy and physiology—to science students at Arizona State, when I was asked to substitute for a faculty member on sabbatical. In other words, I taught human anatomy and physiology repeatedly, in spite of the fact that none of my degrees or research