Some say there is no such thing as a stupid question. I agree. But the timing of some of my former students’ questions was really stupid. Case in point: As I completed an exegesis of a Robert Frost poem, I asked the requsite, “Are there any questions?” Maybe I’m the stupid one for inviting questions, but where there’s life, there’s hope. Craig, a tall, dark, handsome burnout quips, “Mizz Ehtlich, isn’t the bell late?”
Midway through a lesson, I was interrupted with this request: “I fell in gym last period. Can I go to the nurse to get some ice?”
“Sure, and tell her to send up a Martini with that.” But the all-time classic question was asked by a Maxwell cosmetology student: “I have a question for the class.”
“Oh, by all means, Damaris. Go ahead,” I was thrilled that there may have been an inquring mind intent on engaging the entire class.
“Anybody got a tweezer?” she asked and you bet can she got at least one. And then there was Paul who asked me the definition of a motel as I was introducing background material for Psycho.
I explained that “a motel is short for a motor hotel. Usually there is a parking lot right outside the door.” Paul pondered this for a moment and came back with, “Oh, I thought a motel was for sex.”
“No, you’re thinking of a ho-tel,” I zapped back, almost causing pandemonium of “Oohs” and “ahhs.” The class was all-ears now and of course, anxious to get on the bandwagon, Sal, feigning innocence, decides to ask, “Sex – what’s the definition of sex?” to which a heckler in the back of the room calls out, “Something you don’t get, dude!”
Those Q and A’s – you gotta love ‘em!