"Intellectual surroundings always felt comfortable for me because I knew I could do it. When I was a kid, I was nobody in particular, but when I started first grade in Antwerp, I surprised everybody, because all of a sudden, that little pipsqueak is the head of the class […]I was used to being among the best, and then I’m thrown in with a whole bunch of the bests […] But I’m very tenacious, and if it weren’t so then I wouldn’t be a woman in physics because in those days getting into the field was very tough. But I’m very tenacious, and hardworking. The seed may have been sown [at Science]."

“You can’t yearn for something you don’t even know exists. It wasn’t exactly like you’re in a brand new land, but you kind of were. You’re in a land of rarefied intelligence. That doesn’t mean every kid there is a genius, by no means, but even if you have no interest in physics you still had a good physics teacher. Being a teacher’s a little like being a god. There were very few bad teachers, who were just punching a timecard there. I think they appreciated having smarter students. I mean, who doesn’t want to step up their game? [...] There was a consistency of civility at Science."

“My bag was already packed up before the end of the last period. You know, I spent a lot of time lamenting my commute, but in the end looking back on it, you learn a lot about yourself. You learn about your study habits, you make friendships on those commutes, and you form bonds. You form a bond with the city that I think no other New York City schoolkid does going to their zone schools […] I spent a lot of time writing on the train, and observing people. The most mundane things catch your eye, like a guy picking his nose or something, but then you notice the gnarled knuckles he has and you wonder how can such a thick finger enter such a small space […] I feel like to really encompass my Bronx Science experience, it was learning these efficiencies, where everyone else might take the longer route. I feel like these are the two forces that are grappling inside of me as a working writer–the inner Bronx Scienceite who craves efficiency, and then the writerly side."

“At Science I met other guys who were really into music. We ended up jamming close to every day. One of the bands I was in played at the Apollo Amateur Hour. I remember one of my English teachers came to watch me, which was amazing. We didn’t know what to call ourselves, and when we were auditioning one of the judges was like, “I got a name for you guys. You’re going to be called Chocolate Elvis.’ We were doing rockabilly music, and our lead singer was a Black guy who sounded like Elvis. We had called ourselves United Nations, but it wasn’t catchy enough, so we decided Chocolate Elvis had a nice ring to it. It was a melting pot of the city, and I remember just meeting people all the time. I was all over the place, just trying to experience new things. It was really fun.”

“It was very clear our teams would always get beaten by Clinton. Some things never change. I wonder if the chant we had is still used. It goes like: ‘Harass ‘em, harangue ‘em, make ‘em relinquish the ball.’ I guess you hadn’t heard that before.”

“He let me adapt the books and, instead of writing a paper, make a short film. He was one of the few teachers who recognized that by focusing on film I wasn’t shying away from work–I was willing to do more work, but I just wanted to do the work that I wanted to do."

"I think all my life I've judged people by how smart they are and how well they can communicate. I think Bronx Science gave me the first taste of that."

"I had many students who didn’t come every day. I would call their mothers, only to find out they had a brother who was older and they had to share shoes or something like that. I grew up in not a wealthy family but this was beyond. And often I noticed these women were despondent, some of them had black eyes, and […] I discovered that [domestic abuse] was not an uncommon problem. It bothered me for many many years: What could I have done to help them? What kept coming up was, ‘had you been a lawyer, you could’ve done something for them.’ As my 50th birthday was approaching, and my kids were grown, I said to myself, ‘If I don’t try to go to law school I’m going to die hating myself […]’ At least I will have tried.”

“There was a sense of freedom, like you could do what you want. You don’t realize it’s a freedom until you see other places that are not as free and don’t have that opportunity to step outside of your comfort zone and the opportunity to meet people from across your borough, beyond your borough, and really learn people and how to be around different kinds of people. Diversity is a wonderful thing–diversity of mentality, diversity of skill set, diversity of family upbringing, diversity of rebellion, whatever! It’s a wonderful thing.”

"There wasn’t a single female science teacher […] I remember my first plane geometry class, with a very attractive young teacher named Ms. Heinrich. She really had a lot of trouble controlling that class. But plane geometry I recall being totally mystified by for two or three or four weeks. And then suddenly it all made sense, and I loved it."