All it takes is one episode of Jeopardy to see the failure of my education. If I can pose four correct questions in the opening round and two in the Double Jeopardy round, I feel like a success.
Unlike the contestants (or my wife for that matter) who either know the categories implicitly and can give the right questions to the answers when they are selected, I sit in my comfy chair dumbfounded. Either I have absolutely no idea about the specific topic, or I can’t get my brain to function cognitively quick enough to spit out the information they are looking for.
It would be lovely to say it was the slowness of my brain, that I did know the question to the answer, but that is not the case for the most part. Occasionally, I randomly spew something out that makes my wife smile at me and go, “good job,” but that’s about the best I can do. I do get some weird ones right that no one else participating on the show that night has buzzed in.
But, back to the failure of my education. Somewhere, somehow, either I don’t remember or I’ve chosen to forget, there are some large gaps in what I know compared to the people participating on the show.
Science for one. Physics for another. European history. Characters in novels (I’ve read a lot of books and could tell you how they make me feel generically 13 years after reading them, but not be able to name the characters).
I get it. The contestants have an ear for detail. And, they study to go on the show. They have a sense of the categories and they bone up, memorizing minute details. I’m also not good at those details, BTW.
Specific molecules, the names of prehistoric beasts, RNA and DNA didn’t and don’t stick with me. That knowledge base, if it came to me through my schooling, is now gone. Evaporated. Disposed. Eradicated.
And, I wonder if that is good or bad. Jeopardy winners master arcane detail. And, they hit the buzzer quickly. If you have those two qualities, you’d be an excellent contestant.
I often feel when a category pops up, like, “Baseball Stars of the 1960s,” that I’d crush it. Even then though, it seems like those researching the answers throw at least one curve ball at me, where I say to myself, “What the heck? There’s no way anyone is going to get that.” And, then, someone does.
I salute everyone who is quick on the show and builds up a pile of money. I can’t do that, but I can find a nugget here and there to demonstrate the weird things my mind remembers.
And, with remarkable accuracy, I can predict what the contestants will bid when they hit the “Daily Double.” You gauge how far up or behind they are in the game, assess their risk ratio from how they’ve played the game so far, and read their body language. It’s not hard.
But, I guess there is no show where I can demonstrate that expertise. If there were, I’d win the “Predictor” prize for the “Daily Double.” Everyone’s good at something.
Unlike the contestants (or my wife for that matter) who either know the categories implicitly and can give the right questions to the answers when they are selected, I sit in my comfy chair dumbfounded. Either I have absolutely no idea about the specific topic, or I can’t get my brain to function cognitively quick enough to spit out the information they are looking for.
It would be lovely to say it was the slowness of my brain, that I did know the question to the answer, but that is not the case for the most part. Occasionally, I randomly spew something out that makes my wife smile at me and go, “good job,” but that’s about the best I can do. I do get some weird ones right that no one else participating on the show that night has buzzed in.
But, back to the failure of my education. Somewhere, somehow, either I don’t remember or I’ve chosen to forget, there are some large gaps in what I know compared to the people participating on the show.
Science for one. Physics for another. European history. Characters in novels (I’ve read a lot of books and could tell you how they make me feel generically 13 years after reading them, but not be able to name the characters).
I get it. The contestants have an ear for detail. And, they study to go on the show. They have a sense of the categories and they bone up, memorizing minute details. I’m also not good at those details, BTW.
Specific molecules, the names of prehistoric beasts, RNA and DNA didn’t and don’t stick with me. That knowledge base, if it came to me through my schooling, is now gone. Evaporated. Disposed. Eradicated.
And, I wonder if that is good or bad. Jeopardy winners master arcane detail. And, they hit the buzzer quickly. If you have those two qualities, you’d be an excellent contestant.
I often feel when a category pops up, like, “Baseball Stars of the 1960s,” that I’d crush it. Even then though, it seems like those researching the answers throw at least one curve ball at me, where I say to myself, “What the heck? There’s no way anyone is going to get that.” And, then, someone does.
I salute everyone who is quick on the show and builds up a pile of money. I can’t do that, but I can find a nugget here and there to demonstrate the weird things my mind remembers.
And, with remarkable accuracy, I can predict what the contestants will bid when they hit the “Daily Double.” You gauge how far up or behind they are in the game, assess their risk ratio from how they’ve played the game so far, and read their body language. It’s not hard.
But, I guess there is no show where I can demonstrate that expertise. If there were, I’d win the “Predictor” prize for the “Daily Double.” Everyone’s good at something.
