I’m sitting here watching my students take their final exam. Their expressions are serious and business-like and determined. This class wants to do well, and they will do well. These students have been a delight all semester and I hate to lose them to another teacher next semester. I’m jealous of that unknown teacher.

One of my lovely senior citizens from the open computer lab is taking the test with us; he just wanted to see how ‘rusty’ his grammar skills have gotten after sixty years out of the classroom.

(He got an 89%, which is pretty darn good, considering. ) (On second thought, there’s no ‘considering’ about it. He did pretty darn well.) (English is his second language, too.)

I wish all classes could be like this one. Tomorrow, I’ll be giving this test to the group with all the students who seldom show up for class. The results will be quite different, I’m sure.

Actually, out of six classes, only one is a slacker class. That’s a pretty good percentage. All the others are good, VERY good, classes. I might love them.

Whenever I think of my slacker class, I am reminded of something my very first education professor told us, years ago in undergrad.

On the first lecture of the semester, of my first education class ever, he stood before us and said that it would be beneficial to all of society if, on the first day of school, each teacher could whip out a big pistol and randomly shoot one student.

Then the teacher should say, while nonchalantly blowing the smoke off the gun, “I’ve still got five bullets. Who’s it gonna be?”

It might work, you know. I would change the format only a little bit: the teacher should wait until a student acts up or backtalks, and THEN whip out the gun and shoot. That way you don’t run the risk of accidently wiping out a good kid.

Oh, I wouldn’t really consider doing that. Well, I might. Some days, yes. No, I wouldn’t do it.

But remembering that lecture comforts me sometimes.