On stupid questions and brilliant arguments

It is probably no surprise that I was that kid in class who asked questions the teacher couldn’t always answer.  I argued my answers, challenged the book, and debated what I believed to be the correct answer.  Most of the time I was probably just being arrogant and annoying.  But sometimes I was right.

I remember one time in particular; I was in the third grade.  We were learning cardinal directions, and the teacher said that in front of you is North, behind you is South, to your left is West, and to your right is East.  I was confused.  The teacher was facing us.  Could she have a different North than we did?  So I asked:

“But if two people are facing each other, which one is really looking North?”

She repeated: “In front of you is North, behind you is South, to your left is West, and to your right is East.”

“But… Then when if you’re facing one way and then you turn?”

“In front of you is North, behind you is South, to your left is West, and to your right is East.” 

I blame her for why I can never tell my left from my right.  I probably shouldn’t; I know that’s my fault.  But I’m not always clear-minded and rational.

Case in point: Once in fourth grade, I asked probably the dumbest question I have ever asked.  It had nothing to do with what we were studying, but it needed to be answered right freaking then, so I raised my hand.  The conversation went like this:

“Are there any questions”

My hand went up.

“Yes, Kimberly?”

“Do cats really have nine lives?”

“About the Civil War.”

“Oh.  Then no.”

The beautiful poetic justice for that came a few days ago, when I was subbing in a Social Studies class, and I had to field almost that exact same question.  There you go, Mrs. Blasingame.  I guess we’re even.

This one is dangerously close to losing about four of his lives.

Today, I had to answer questions that I couldn't answer.  It wasn't that I didn’t know the answer, it was that the children wanted to challenge the book.  The vocabulary word was ‘peculiar.’  The question was, “Which of the following could be considered peculiar?” 

                a) a rich person begging on the street

                b) a pet lobster

                c) a person who doesn’t eat meat

                d) a mouse chasing a cat

This is one of those questions that can have more than one answer, and I’m willing to bet that some students said all of the above were peculiar.  The answers, as given by the book, are A, B, and D.

Suddenly, the students started talking out.

“What?  Not eating meat is peculiar.  Why wouldn’t you eat meat?”

“I don’t eat meat!  I am not peculiar!”

“Having a pet lobster isn’t weird!  My uncle has a pet lobster!”

“Then you uncle is weird.”

Oh, so I guess you're saying Homer is weird too ---yeah, okay.  He's pretty weird.

I listened to their claims, but I told them that any arguments would have to be taken up with their teacher tomorrow.  I can’t make the call, but if it were up to me they all had valid points.  How can you make an opinion question have a right or wrong answer?  What are we teaching students?  The question is designed to measure the student’s understanding of the vocabulary word.  If the student can justify how the word applies to the answer they selected, doesn’t that prove that they understand the word?

Then there was this one:

Which of the following is a dwelling?

a)      A garage

b)      A cabin

c)       A cottage

d)      A church

The answers are B and D.  Sorry if your family lives in a garage room of someone’s house.  I guess that’s not considered a dwelling.

Then a student said, “What?!  A church is too a dwelling!  It’s a dwelling for God!”

Oh boy.  Now we’ve made a what-the-heck omelet, and we are walking on the eggshells. 

I have always disliked multiple choice tests.  As a student, I was terrible at them, because I could almost always talk myself into picking each option.  “A works… but B works too.  C could work if you read it like this… “  Then I would tiptoe up to the teacher’s desk.  “All of these could be the answer!”

“Don’t think about it too hard.  Just read the question and pick the answer.”

Oh.  Is that what I was supposed to do?

Thanks to Shipp for this picture!  Oh hey - here's his tumblr! 

I hated being told not to think too hard.  For one, I have always been a chronic overthinker.  It’s not something I can turn off, because I don’t know what an appropriate stopping place for my train of thought is.  If I have always thought this way, I can’t exactly say to myself, “Annnd here.  Here is where you can stop thinking.  Disembark from the train and select B because, when one stops their train of thought at this particular destination, it becomes clear that B is the answer.”  It is impossible.  In fact, thinking about overthinking is probably overthinking.

The other issue I had/have with being told not to think about it too much is that I was at school.  To learn.  To think.  What was I supposed to do, if not think?  What are we teaching students by saying “Don’t think too hard.  Just write down that  B is the answer.  If you don’t have B as your answer then it is wrong”?  What does that say to the brilliant argument posed by the girl with the uncle’s pet lobster?  What does it tell the boy who sees a church as a dwelling for God?  Are these students going to become lifelong learners, lifelong seekers of truth, if they are told this early in their lives that they are wrong to examine something from different angles?

No.  They are not going to turn into seekers of truth.  Getting a good grade matters more than getting to win an argument against a book or a teacher.  The answer is B.  If you don’t have B, you are wrong.  If you have something other than B, you are wrong. 

North is always in front of you.