College age Sea Monkeys?

A posting on Fragments From FLoyd gives me another reason to doubt the flexibility, sense of humor or at least the appreciation of life of the next generation. Fred, professor of biology in Virginia (and so much more), did not describe this incident to disparage the students, but as a tongue-in-cheek failure of his stand-up comedy approach to a class lesson. However, I read more into it.

He enhanced his lessons about "brine shrimp" by relating some tales of the experience and folly that old fogeys like me remember well. These creatures were sold as "Sea Monkeys" in exaggerated ads in the back of comic books and magazines in the 60s and 70s. Great fun. Maybe we didn't really believe the hype, but in ordering these or planning to get them, we visualized the little faces and personalities of the mail order pets as depicted in the ads. Anyhow, Fred's college kids didn't get it, or they got it and were bored.

I don't know about you, but I lived breathed and cheered for professors with attitudes and stories like this when I was in college. Above and beyond the bland facts and figures. Maybe it was because Allegheny College was quite a strong and advanced liberal arts school, but I remember a lot of great teachers like that, seemingly bursting with enthusiasm for their subjects, especially my first two years (way back then). I loved it. I was sometimes a lousy student, but I loved it.

I still have a vivid image of Dr. Paul Cares (gee, I will have to look up his name to be sure) that I had for a History of the Far East. He was a large man, deep and powerful voice, heartily explaining the chapters we had supposedly read for that class.

In this particular lecture, he was illustrating that habits and cultural differences between nationalities could not be easily set aside, and are easily misunderstood. He told the story of a wealthy man in the US who had an Asian chef in his household serving him loyally for years. He knew the man prepared meat on the floor, in that typical baseball catcher-like crouch position, that looks so uncomfortable to most of us. So he decided to get him a large butcher block table as a gift -- hopefully to make his job easier. Of course the chef thanked him profusely for the new table, but when he used it, he hopped up on the block, crouched down and worked as usual. When he told that story, Cares was animated, eyes sparking with humor, arms waving, cheeks and jowls in motion, totally immersed in the story. I still remember it after about 40 years. Not boring, that's for sure.