A sixth-grade science teacher, Mrs. Parks, decided to test her students with a question that seemed simple but quickly turned into a lesson about assumptions. She asked, “Which human body part increases to ten times its size when stimulated?”
At first, the room fell silent. Then, one student, Mary, shot up from her seat, visibly upset. “That’s inappropriate!” she declared. “I’m telling my parents, and they’ll tell the principal, and you’ll get fired!”
Mrs. Parks remained calm and repeated the question. Mary gasped, turning to her classmates. “She’s really going to get in trouble now!” she whispered loudly.
Still, no one answered—until Billy finally raised his hand. Nervously, he said, “The pupil of the eye. It expands in the dark.”
“Exactly right, Billy,” Mrs. Parks said with a smile. Then she turned to Mary. “Three things for you: One, you jumped to the wrong conclusion. Two, you didn’t review your homework. And three, someday, you’re going to be very disappointed when things aren’t as scandalous as you imagine.”
The class burst into laughter, and Mary turned bright red. It was a lesson in science—and in not assuming the worst.
