History Repeats Itself in Dopey-Question Fest

Even massive budget cuts at California’s community colleges couldn’t alter an important ritual on the first day of spring semester classes: the dance around the dumb question.

Learning facilitators (we’re not called instructors anymore) assure their students at the outset that all questions are created equal, and we use even the dopey ones to illuminate the subject.

Easily anticipated is, “Are dates going to be important in this history class?”

Don’t ask that student whether numbers are important in math classes. Instead, explain how historians describe the past. Take the election of 1932, when the nation repudiated Herbert Hoover and installed Franklin Roosevelt to fix the economic collapse. Some students would prefer to drop the date and speak of the “Roosevelt trounced Hoover” election. It’s certainly more descriptive than 1932. But without the date, how would one place this election and determine its relationship to other events?

Numbers count in history. Minimizing this bleak fact on the first day mollifies students who object in principle to memorizing dates. But it’s harder to figure out how to assuage those who ask whether they’ll be tested on the names of lots of important dead people.

Makeup exams are essential fodder for the first day of class. Someone is sure to ask, “Will we have to document the reason for the makeup?” Yes. The bureaucracies that underpin our nation will provide you with paperwork on everything that might legitimately interfere with an exam. Bring me some.

Students don’t think that historians are down with much. But on documentation, we’re passionate. The more authoritative the document, the more fervently we embrace it. California Highway Patrol accident reports, a Superior Court summons, hospital discharge orders -- you get the idea. Don’t bring a note from your mother.

“Well, what if my grandmother dies the day before the midterm exam?”

Students have documented the deceased in many ways. Death certificates have credibility sure to satisfy any historian. Funeral programs fail because you can download them on the Internet as easily as a term paper. Whatever you do, don’t bring ashes in a jar. They might have come from your fireplace. There are no DNA labs in the history department.

Even pictures can be problematic. A few semesters ago, a student called to say she wouldn’t be able to make the midterm exam: Her puppy had gotten its head stuck in a glass jar and required immediate veterinarian intervention. Was the makeup policy flexible and sensitive enough to cover this contingency? Sure. Just take a picture of the immobilized pup and that’s your ticket to a makeup exam.

However, historians pride themselves on critical analysis of the evidence. So, which came first -- the puppy’s accident or the phone call? Did the student check to verify that a fabricated story would fly, and then create and document the event?

The picture on my bulletin board can’t answer that question.