Is It Still Okay to Pith a Frog in Grade School?

I can still smell it. The unmistakable tang of formaldehyde, the chill of a steel tray, and that once-in-a-lifetime moment when you realized your science class had gone from theory to… amphibian. I liked frogs. Still do. Which is why the memory of pithing one—a word I learned before I fully grasped its implications—sticks with me.

For generations of American students, frog dissection wasn’t just a rite of passage. It was an educational spectacle—half discovery, half discomfort, and all curiosity. There was a certain gravity to being trusted with a scalpel, as if the future of medicine rested on your ability to identify the heart without nicking the liver. In hindsight, it feels both heroic and slightly absurd.

Back then, nobody questioned whether it was “okay.” You did it because that’s how biology worked. Today, though, with tablets replacing scalpels and ethics replacing formaldehyde, the question lingers: is it still okay to pith a frog in grade school?

The history of frog dissection in U.S. classrooms is a fascinating reflection of our educational values. The practice took hold in the 1930s and by the 1980s, as Encyclopaedia Britannica notes, up to 80% of North American high-school students had dissected an animal—most commonly, the humble frog. It was considered a benchmark of hands-on learning, designed to spark curiosity and cultivate respect for the complexity of life.

According to the Environmental Literacy Council, many biology teachers still view dissection as a way to help students “see and touch” anatomy rather than merely memorize it. Frogs, with their convenient size and easily identifiable organs, became the go-to subjects. They were cheap, plentiful, and scientifically elegant.

But like so many mid-century traditions, this one has aged unevenly. The same experiment that once symbolized intellectual awakening now raises eyebrows for its ethical implications—and logistical costs. Preservation chemicals are toxic, specimens are expensive, and students more vocal than ever about animal rights.

In recent years, biology education has quietly undergone a digital metamorphosis. While some high schools still include frog dissections, the majority now offer alternatives—from interactive software to synthetic specimens.

In 2019, a Florida high school unveiled the world’s first “SynFrog,” a lifelike, reusable silicone model that mimics the texture and internal anatomy of a real frog. The innovation, reported by ABC News, allowed students to explore biology without ethical discomfort—or the smell. It’s science without the squeamishness.

These days, a ninth grader can complete an entire dissection lab on an iPad, zooming into virtual organs, labeling systems, and even testing hypotheses about function—all without a single scalpel. The Environmental Literacy Council confirms that digital dissections have become a mainstream option, embraced by budget-conscious and eco-conscious schools alike.

What changed most dramatically, however, wasn’t the technology—it was the ethics. Beginning in the late 1990s, advocacy groups like the American Anti-Vivisection Society (AAVS) pushed for “Student Choice Laws,” giving students the right to opt out of animal dissections.

In states like California, Florida, and New York, students can now request alternative assignments—without penalty—if they object to animal use on moral or religious grounds. Teachers increasingly welcome the discussion, seeing it as an opportunity to teach empathy alongside anatomy.

There’s something poetic about this shift. Once, we taught respect for life by cutting it open; now, we teach it by preserving it. As one biology instructor told the Environmental Literacy Council:

And honestly, who wouldn’t rather double-tap to open a virtual ventricle than accidentally spray formaldehyde on their lab partner?

Not everyone is ready to declare victory for the synthetic frog. Critics argue that something essential is lost when science becomes sanitized. That first incision, the tremor in your hand, the tangible reminder that biology is, quite literally, alive—that’s hard to replicate with pixels.

Supporters of virtual learning counter that the outcomes speak for themselves. Studies show students retain as much, or more, anatomical understanding from simulations compared to traditional dissections. And without the ethical baggage, more students—especially those uneasy with animal harm—feel welcome in the lab.

The Environmental Literacy Council suggests that digital tools may even democratize science, making it more inclusive and less intimidating. It’s a debate as old as education itself: does “real” learning require getting your hands dirty, or just your mind engaged?

So, is it still okay to pith a frog in grade school? The literal answer is: sometimes. The ethical one is: increasingly, no. The educational one is: probably not necessary anymore.

Science, after all, isn’t static. It evolves with our understanding—and our conscience. The modern biology classroom is no less scientific; it’s just more self-aware. Frogs, thankfully, have leapt from the lab table to the touchscreen, preserved in perpetuity through software rather than formaldehyde.

And for those of us who once looked down at that glistening amphibian with a mix of awe and guilt, there’s something comforting in knowing the next generation can learn about life without having to take one apart.

Still, I’ll admit—there was something unforgettable about the old way. That strange sense of reverence. That first brush with mortality in the name of science. Maybe that’s what made it meaningful. Or maybe that’s just nostalgia talking. Either way, the frogs are probably fine with the update.