Ahh, college freshmen. The glorious class of individuals who keep me employed, help me maintain my youth, teach me so much, and provide me with comic relief. That last bit may not sound important, but oh! it is! My husband and I often fall asleep laughing at the latest email I have received from a clueless, naive freshman in my classes. And we're not laughing at them, per se. We're just laughing at that wonderful vulnerability, that blissful ignorance, which all of us college graduates once had as 18- and 19-year-olds.
The latest email came just a few hours after class ended. This class, mind you, was 100 minutes full of instruction solely related to their upcoming paper, the rough draft of which was due in one week. The email read something like this (exact wording not revealed, in order to maintain my anonymity):
"I wanted to work on my ruff draft, but I couldn't remember what the topic was. So I was wondering if you could please remind me."
How sweet of him to point out that he tuned me out for 100 minutes. How precious that he doesn't even realize the faux pas in revealing your ignorance to your instructor.
And the last anecdote for today goes back to my last teaching position:
I read a short item to my class of outgoing, bright, enthusiastic students. It's a piece that always garners response when I read it to my students. I love it. But on this particular day, I began the discussion session with (what I hoped would be) a quick Q&A. I asked Sally-on-the-front-row the planned question, and she replied:
"I'm sorry, but I've got ADD, and I didn't listen to a single word you just said."
That was 2 years ago, and I'm still laughing.
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1 comment:
They just really ask for it with the gross spelling errors staring you right in the face. It's so appropriate.
One of my favorites was a girl who was writing a persuasive essay on why there should be a Greek system at the school. In trying to shoot down an opposing argument she said, "that idea is dumbfounded."
Indeed.
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