Class systems

Hey look at that, it's a frickin' Monday again. There are worse things, I suppose. I mean, if suddenly there were no more Mondays, then it would only be a short matter of time before Tuesday inherited all of Monday's negative connotations. We humans are fickle that way.

A long, long time ago (also known as December, in UOPTA terms), I wrote about how I was often bored in high school. In order to make things a wee bit more interesting, my friends and I would resort to stupid little games. Often, these games were essentially harmless in nature, and I'll detail one of them right after this paragraph. Generally speaking, the little were for the sole amusement of a few people in the class to liven things up while the teacher repeated things for a third or fourth time. There were times that high school wasn't too challenging, and I have a feeling you're all nodding in agreement right now. Yes, even you. Ok, here goes:

My junior year of high school, a bunch of us were in Spanish 3 together. That level was the real make-or-break point in language, I think. It seemed like the first two years relied heavily on being able to regurgitate whatever was in the little yellow boxes in the textbooks while the following years required people to understand the language and its intricacies conceptually as well as simply memorizing them. The subjunctive mood was the biggest divider of them all, by the way. Therefore, about half the class was eating up the lessons, and the other half was overwhelmed but sticking it out for the college requirement. There was a very nice student in the class of Persian descent named Nazanin. On day one of the class, the teacher called her name for roll as "NAZZ-uh-neen." "It's NOZZ-uh-neen," she countered. I didn't make too much of this at the time.

A couple of weeks later, I was talking to two buddies of mine in the class named Mark and Ilya. Somehow I brought Nazanin up in the conversation and, at the same time, they both repeated, "NOZZ-uh-neen" with a heavy emphasis on the first syllable. They thought it was a funny interaction that she and the teacher had on the first day, and apparently they made eye contact in class with each other every time her name was said aloud.

Later that day in class, I was in the middle of doodling or something in class when I heard the teach call on Nazanin. It took a second to register, so I quickly popped my head up to look for Mark and Ilya. My eagerness to be involved in their game made them laugh a little. The next time her name was said, the both jokingly mocked my enthusiasm and excitedly popped up and looked around the classroom.

The days went by, and slowly a few more people started doing the same thing as us whenever Nazanin's name was said. I doubt they knew why, but we were clearly enjoying ourselves so they wanted in on the action. Someone would say "Nazanin," and five or six people would sit up straight and eagerly look around. The teacher, Ms. Hermosillo, noticed and pulled us aside after class to tell us to knock it off. We were all friendly with her, and she just didn't want Nazanin to feel like we were picking on her for any reason. The next day, the teacher called on Nazanin to answer a question. Immediately after, eight or nine students in the class coughed simultaneously (including your humble blogger, naturally). Ms. Hermosillo looked over at us and, trying to hold back a smile, said, "Come on guys, cut it out."

The next day, we were all sitting there in Spanish 3 again. The teacher asked a question, and Nazanin raised her hand. After the slightest hesitation, Ms. Hermosillo said, "Yes, Nazanin?" A dozen students ran their hands through their hair. The teacher just shook her head and laughed, basically telling us it was ok to continue doing that since it didn't cause a distraction. At least that's what we read into it.

Starting that next week until the end of the school year, here is how things would play out: Ms. Hermosillo would say "Nazanin," and then entire class (including Nazanin, by the way) would smile and run their hands through their hair. Occasionally the teacher would join in as well. It got to be so automatic for people that it became completely natural to see that classroom choreography a couple of times a day.

To this day, Jon, Dusty, Rockabye, Silver, me, and people who weren't even in the class (or at that school) will automatically start to raise their arms to their heads when Nazanin's name comes up. Usually it's in the context of, "Hey, remember Nazanin?" as a sort of reflex test. Good times, good times. In fact, just re-reading this made me have to consciously hold back from doing the action every time I read her name. Old (and silly) habits die hard, I guess.

Happy Monday, gentle readers. I hope you had a nice weekend, and I hope that you have little childish things that amuse you enough to make your day pass more quickly. I'm telling you, it's the only way to go.