Time to Find Out

Thursday. Eighth grade math, third period. They had a test.

Since the first day I was in this class, I told them when the test was. For every example, I reiterated what they would need to include in their answers on the test. I went over examples, gave them time to try problems on their own, and I answered all their questions about how to do the problems. 

(Their test was how to find the volume of a cylinder, a cone, and a sphere. The formulas were included on the test, which I also repeated daily.) 

But eighth graders. 

There were three boys in the middle of the room who spent more time goofing off and talking to each other than paying me any mind. 

"Colton! Adonis! Russell! Do you know how to do this?"

They assured me that they were on it. It was easy. They were caught up on the homework.

So, Thursday rolls around, and I started off with a warm up. They had four problems that looked exactly like the questions on the test. I gave them time to do them. Then we went over them together.

I got questions. I answered the questions. I solicited more questions. They assured me they were ready for the test.

I passed out the test. 

Colton raised his hand.

He pointed out the first question. "How do I do this? I don't even know how to start."

Um...

It was exactly like the first question in the warm up (with only the numbers being different). 

"That's what the question is asking you," I replied. And I walked away.

Why do they goof off until the test? (Don't answer that. I know.) 

But it was rather satisfying to walk away and not answer his question. If he had asked me how to do it five minutes prior, I would have told him. But no. So I left him to the "find out" portion of that well known phrase.