Fragments From Floyd

Yes, I've been whining a little--about the seeming futility of offering answers to self-absorbed teenagers who have not yet asked the questions--that sort of thing about which, in seventeen years away from the classroom, I had forgotten. And yesterday, my friend, Rhonda, offered this encouragement (I'd like to embellish, but the power has already flickered a few times here and I expect we might lose it for good soon--thank your hot-wet breath, Tropical Stormlet, Jeanne:

Yeah, Fred, I know. I know exactly how frustrating it is to give a stellar presentation (or even just walk in the door) and have NOBODY ASK A QUESTION. They don't! They just . . . don't. And I don't know why for sure, but I have a theory or two: 1. Your students are still at the age (and in a setting) where being cool trumps all other social considerations. These days, it is generally not considered cool, even in college, to want to learn. Or if you do, to let it show. 2. Another way of not being cool: asking a question others might perceive as stupid. Tremendous fear of that, out there among the little desks and chairs. 3. Are you teaching a required course? If so, you're quite possibly the only person in the room who wants to be there.

I inadvertently tested all these theories at once, in the process of trying to explain/ demonstrate the importance of correct spelling and punctuation. My pedagogy: I came to class with my clothes on inside out--khaki pockets flapping, seams fraying all over the place--and proceeded to teach whatever was on the syllabus that day as if nothing were out of order. The kids kept shooting each other looks, then looking at the floor, the ceiling, out the window, anything to keep from looking at me. This went on for 25 minutes before the bravest girl in the class raised her hand and asked very gently, as if she were speaking to a lunatic or a child, "Dr. Rockwell, are your clothes on inside out for a reason?" I almost kissed her, I was so relieved.

Thanks, DocRoc. That brightened my day.