That Time I Acted Like a Presidential Candidate

I watched the first presidential debate this week. (I know, right? Good for me!) I'm a proud Mitt Romney supporter, and I was delighted by how well he did. I loved his answer for how he views the role of government in America. Good job, Mitt!

I do think it's amusing, though, to note the tactics all debaters use to make sure they get to say what they want to say. When I saw either candidate employ any such techniques (and they both did), I had to laugh. Since I seem to rarely miss opportunities to criticize, you'd think I'd seize this one instead of laugh. But I had a memory of a night long ago in graduate school, and I realized that presidential candidates aren't the only ones who can do it!

When I was in graduate school, my cohort was subjected to a class on developmental parenting, taught by a teacher who had never taught this class before. (That still gets my hackles up...) Our other teachers had all been fantastic--they wanted us to learn, and if that meant cancelling a quiz so we could continue our discussion, for example, they'd do it! And we learned SO MUCH. This other professor? Not even close.

Every week, she released a list of journal articles, and, like lions clammering for the best part of the felled antelope, we had to claim the one we wanted to read and report on in the next week's class. We then had to complete a strictly detailed outline of the paper that we turned in to our professor, whom I refer to as She Who Must Not Be Named. She told us this was her way of making sure we did our reading. Our other professors all talked about how impressed they were with how responsible we were and how obvious it was that we were there to learn, not just pass, but not She Who Must Not Be Named. She was our babysitter. (Yes, I know this paragraph is more of a rant than a contribution to the topic at hand, but I'm not sure you understand how much I hated this class.)

After we submitted our written reports, we began The Class Discussion. When you hear me call it a discussion, you may picture a group of people exchanging ideas, challenging each other to think deeper thoughts, analyzing meanings, and cooperatively learning. And you would be wrong. Instead, picture a firing squad. And a bunch of wrongly accused prisoners. She Who Must Not Be Named would announce what article was to be "discussed" first and then call out the name of one of the students who had signed up to read that article. They were to begin reciting what they'd read in the article until she called out, "Stop!" and chose her next victim, even if the first person was still in mid-sentence. The next person was to begin where the other person left off, OR answer a specific question that she decided to spring on them. So there was, in fact, NO actual discussion. No exchange of ideas. No probing deeper into a concept. Just a giant bear trap waiting for some student to step in it.

Anyway, back to the part where I acted like a presidential candidate. During one of these, ahem, "discussions," one of the guys was talking about the article that I had also read. It wasn't uncommon for me to be mostly lost when it came to journal articles, but I tried to pick out at least one nugget I could present for credit in class. So when the professor felt like the first kid had proven himself enough, she stopped him, asked some specific question, and called on ME to answer. (Of course.) Without hesitating, I said, "Actually, there was something else I really wanted to point out about this study. It said...."

HA! I'm pretty sure I heard a small collective gasp from my classmates, and the teacher looked like she'd been lightly spanked. I, on the other hand, confidently shared my knowledge of the article, and proved to one and all that I had read. After all, that's what she wanted to know, wasn't it?