My latest realization

Today I gave my class their first test of the semester. It covered some basic observables of the astronomical world around us (e.g., seasons, phases of the moon), basic laws of motion, the history of astronomy, and the Solar System.

I took about half the multiple choice questions from an old test my adviser made up last semester (which he got from the text's test bank), and made up the other half on my own. I also came up with my own matching section, and two short answer questions.

I'll be honest. I thought parts of the test were clever. I threw in some "funny" options on the multiple choice questions. And the short answers were more fun than normal, boring tests.

The second short answer question, I thought, was particularly great. I came up with it months ago and have been anxiously waiting for the time I could use it. My students were given the following:

I then asked them to explain if Calvin's dad had given the correct explanation for the cause of winter.

Okay. Come on. You have to admit, that question is fun. At least way cooler than they would have gotten in the other astronomy class. Isn't that more fun than simply asking, "What is the cause of the seasons?"

I had this weird realization today, though I'm not sure why it only happened today: my students and I are not in the same place. (Turns out we're at least an academic generation apart.)

For some reason, I expected my students to appreciate the exam on the same level that I did. At least a little bit. At least tell me how clever it was.

But they didn't.

(Of course they didn't!)

I had this realization that the students and I are approaching this whole class thing very differently (duh, I know). The climax of this funny, yet horrible, realization was reached when one student was handing in his test. I thought he said, "That was a good one." Meaning, way to go, that was a great test. But what he actually said was, "Have a good one."

For some reason, I was disappointed when I realized what he really said.

I suddenly felt like what a mom must feel like when she puts a lot of effort into making a nice dinner that goes completely unnoticed by her hungry family. (P.S. Mom, your food was always really awesome.) Or when you are excited to wear a new, totally hot outfit to go out with your significant other, and all he says is, "We'd better get going, we don't want to hit traffic." (And you want to say, "Pssh! I could stop traffic!")

But it's okay.

As long as SOMEONE thought the option of saying that the Jovian planets are made of "sugar and spice and everything nice" was funny.