It can also be more fun to be forced to wait and read along with the class. You get to take part properly in predicting what will happen to which character, based on what was in the text before that, not what came after. And although that’s something you naturally do as a reader, pausing and doing it deliberately can teach you a lot about writing.
Obviously it is difficult to do, if you really like a book. But it’s not an arbitrary rule designed to punish fast readers.
Though one time - while on a PGCE (postgraduate teaching course) - my tutor outright said I was lying when I predicted everything about a short film we were watching (he paused partway through), and I said I hadn’t seen it before. It was some obscure French short film and just not the sort of thing you happen on by chance, especially if you don’t speak French. I just watch a lot of movies and TV and it’s not hard to spot patterns and make predictions.
He was really annoyed with me. He also marked me down during a lesson observation for not gesticulating enough with both arms. One arm was broken and in a cast and sling at the time, having been broken by a student. When I pointed that out, he stuck to his guns. I actually gesticulate quite a lot, but not when one arm is strapped to my chest!
There’s another couple of weirdest things, I guess!
I had a calculus teacher in college that handed out the syllabus and told us no one finished the course with an A. He felt the tests weren’t challenging enough if anyone got a high score. He assigned more work and the next test would be harder.
That turned out to be a very difficult and challenging semester. My calculus class took so much study time that the grades in my other classes went down.
No one finished the course with an A. Several good students got D’s and several people failed. It was so bad that the Dean of Mathematics became involved and some grades were adjusted.
I assume the professor got in trouble. I heard it cost him a chance at tenure. That may have just been gossip.
Male Principle got caught with a male prostitute in the alley behind a dirty book store.
Female Nun/Teacher ran off with a Priest from the Parish.
Hippie English teacher like just rap with students, about how his car is a piece of crap. And he had insurance. And if someone stole his car he would probably be better off. Surprise, his car got stolen. And he adamant that he never said he wanted anyone to steal his car.
In college, bumped into a female classmate. Apparently the Vice Principle had relations with several girls. None of which were ever reported.
This was in 1957, at the height of the Cold War. Even the hint of being a Communist sympathizer was enough to get a teacher into trouble.
My 7th grade homeroom and English teacher gave us weekly spelling bees. The best student got a home-made “Sputnik” medal, and the worst got a home-made “Vanguard” medal. (Vanguard was the U.S. rocket which, at that time, crashed on take-off.)
Being the best speller in the class, I had a nice collection of Sputniks at home.
I have nothing to contribute. I just wanted to say that this is one of the most entertaining threads I’ve enjoyed in a while.
I’ve been teaching for almost ten years, and now my eccentricities seem so tame!
My son’s community college biology teacher really believed in Bigfoot, including having a YouTube channel on the topic, and made his students watch videos about it. He also misgraded every test, and my son was constantly having to go get it corrected.
He also said the Apocalypse was coming in thirty years, but as I told my son, the Apocalypse is always coming in thirty years.
I had a high school math teacher with a superpower. He would stand at blackboard, facing the class, and write clearly on the blackboard behind him. He would keep eye contact with the class and write on the backboard at the same time.
I had a French teacher in fourth/fifth class that would write on the blackboard with chalk, his back turned to the class, and suddenly turn around and throw the chalk really hard at the pupils who were not paying attention. He aimed quite well, but did not always hit the intended pupil. We hated him. Those were the days where teachers hit you as a punishment on the outstretched hand with a wooden ruler, which really hurt too.
There is a classic saying in Spanish pedagogy: “La letra con sangre entra.” Loosely translates as “you have to make them bleed for them to learn” (literally: letters enter with blood).
I believe the situation has improved.
one thing that crossed my mind is in Indiana because we were working up to the civil war is the 5th-grade teachers talked the principal into letting them grow cotton and we got to grow and pick cotton 1860s … and it sucks so bad I cant describe it … try picking the white dandelion hairs from the middle of a bramble bush and you’ve gotten an small approximation …
even the black kids were like "no wonder grandpa took a factory job when he was younger "
In high school we had naked swimming (just the boys). The teacher was fully dressed though, dressed like all the other gym teachers. One day he tried to teach us a particular dive, and was getting nowhere. So he stripped off all his clothes, and proceeded to do the dive.