A fourth-grade teacher was giving her pupils a lesson in logic. “Here is the situation,” she said. “A man is standing up in a boat in the middle of a river, fishing. He loses his balance, falls in, and begins splashing and yelling for help. His wife hears the commotion, knows he can’t swim, and runs down to the bank. Why do you think she ran to the bank?”
The classroom fell dead silent. The students scrunched their faces, gears turning in their nine-year-old heads. Mrs. Gable stood at the chalkboard, a hopeful smile on her face, waiting to see who had grasped the concept of deductive reasoning.
Susie’s hand shot up first. “To find a really long stick to pull him out?”
“A good thought, Susie,” Mrs. Gable said gently. “But remember the exact words I used. She ran down to the bank.”
Next was Tommy. “To yell at him for standing up in the boat when she told him not to?”
A few kids giggled. “No, Tommy,” the teacher sighed. “Think logically. He is drowning. She knows he cannot swim. She runs to the bank.”
Finally, Little Arthur raised his hand in the back row. Arthur was a quiet boy who spent most of his time reading the business section of his father’s newspaper rather than playing kickball.
“Yes, Arthur?” Mrs. Gable asked, relieved to see him participating. “Why did she run to the bank?”
Arthur adjusted his glasses and answered with complete, unwavering confidence: “To withdraw all of his savings before the estate goes into probate.”
The classroom blinked. Mrs. Gable’s chalk slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the linoleum floor.
“Arthur,” she stammered, her pedagogical smile frozen in place. “I… I meant the riverbank. Why would she run to a financial institution?”
“Well, Mrs. Gable, it’s simple logic,” Arthur replied, counting off on his fingers. “One, you said she knows he can’t swim, which means a grim outcome is highly probable. Two, you said she ran, which indicates a sense of urgency. Ergo, she needed to beat the weekend teller closure to secure her financial future.”
Tommy leaned over his desk, eyes wide. “Wow. That’s actually really smart.”
“Yeah,” Susie chimed in thoughtfully. “My mom always says you should never leave a joint account unmonitored.”
Mrs. Gable stared blankly at her class of surprisingly pragmatic nine-year-olds. She took a deep breath, walked over to her desk, and firmly closed her logic textbook.
“Alright, class,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Let’s just move on to fractions.”
