There’s this boy, let’s name him Sam. Let’s imagine for a minute Sam sitting in a class—you know, one of the ones where you don’t know anyone so, without meaning to, you occasionally overhear bits and pieces of other people’s conversations.
Let’s also imagine, for the sake of imagining, that there are two girls sitting in front of Sam and they’re heatedly discussing something. Completely by accident (of course) Sam hears one of the girls say, “I hear that the West Hall has finally fallen into Troy!”
Gasp—could it be the bane of all our final exams is gone? Probably not, and I’d bet that Sam would harbor doubts in the back of his mind. However, it’s probably pretty likely that before he even has a chance to check out whether or not this rumor has any foundation, he’ll mention it to his best friend in the whole world. Then, a week or two later when he finally has the chance, he’ll head down to West Hall and discover, alas, that it’s still standing.
And that’s my point. So many people overhear something and take it to be fact. Somehow the words “I hear” have become “a team of 100 scientists have tested and proven this, and there is all sorts of documentation all over the place, so how could you not believe me?”
But people are funny. For a moment, imagine that I were a psychology major. I could claim with the utmost confidence that I know, for a fact, that the law of gravity doesn’t apply to Jupiter’s 20th moon. Right—so now the law of gravity is revocable and Jupiter has at least 50 moons. On top of those insane claims, I’m a psychology major who has little to no knowledge of astrophysics or the general setup of this galaxy. (We’re still imagining here—I’m not really that stupid.) In this extreme case you’d probably dismiss my ranting as pure insanity, with good reason.
However, why is it that Sam told his best friend in the whole world that West Hall had fallen into Troy? He didn’t really believe it, but he still perpetuated this silly rumor. In doing so he has contributed to the clutter of fact and fiction in everyone else’s world, adding yet another layer of confusion to what is already a complicated college life.
If our friend Sam had taken a few moments to think about this rumor, he probably would have realized that it should have been ignored entirely. If he hadn’t been so giddy with the thought that he may never have to take another final exam on a desk the size of a CD case (or even worse, none at all), he also probably would have kept his big mouth shut.
So what lessons can we all learn from Sam? Well, the most obvious is to think about the rumors you hear. Check them out if it seems like there might be some fact to them. At the very worst, if they’re true, you’ll have some more information to pass on to your best friend in the whole world. We have also learned that we shouldn’t let emotion blind us to the truth of a rumor. Just because we’re mad, excited, or downright giddy, a rumor won’t become any more true. Keep this in mind next time you hear the sky is falling.
