It was finals week. Most students were busy taking tests and trying to do their last clean checks before they left. Others were preparing for graduation and moving on to the next part of their lives. As a professor, I was giving tests, grading them, and spending lots of time visiting with students who had been less than diligent but still hoped to pass.
I was busy grading linear algebra tests when my phone rang. I answered it and immediately recognized my niece’s voice.
“Uncle Daris,” she said, “could you help me and my roommates with something?”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, when we moved in this semester, we all hated the showerhead in our bathroom. So, we bought one that we all liked better. But the apartment managers will expect the original one put back for checkout.”
“If the one you bought is better, don’t you think they would be okay with it?” I asked.
“I said we liked it better,” she replied. “The original one was meant to save water, but it hardly put out anything. It was like showering under a dripping faucet. The one we bought put out a lot more water. I’m sure they would want their water-saving one, but we don’t have any wrenches to switch it.”
“I’d be happy to help,” I said. “I’ll bring my wrenches to work tomorrow. I have to give a test at ten but should be free early in the afternoon.”
“That would work perfectly,” my niece said. “We will be here packing.”
I arrived at their apartment just after noon the next day. My niece invited me in, introduced me to her roommates who were there, then led me past piles of boxes in the living room. When we got to the bathroom, she handed me the shower head they wanted reinstalled.
“How did you install it the first time without any wrenches?” I asked.
“My roommate, Valentina, had her boyfriend do it. But he’s not her boyfriend anymore, so she doesn’t want to ask him.”
“I’m happy to do it,” I replied.
While they continued to pack, I changed the shower head. When I returned to the living room, they were hauling boxes to their cars. They had loaded some boxes extra heavy, and they couldn’t lift them, so I hauled the heavy ones for them.
As I came in after one trip, another roommate had returned from taking a test. She was crying. Seeing me, my niece, who was trying to comfort the girl, introduced her to me, telling me she was Valentina.
“Valentina just took a test, and she is sure she bombed it,” my niece said. She then turned to Valentina and said, “My uncle is a professor. Maybe he’ll know.”
Valentina nodded and turned to me, speaking with a strong South American accent. “I thought I was doing well on the test, and then I got to the last question. It was so confusing that it made me wonder if I didn’t know the answers as well as I thought. I’m afraid I did horribly on the test.”
“Can you tell me the question?” I asked.
“It was something about chucking wood or something,” she replied, “and I don’t remember ever talking about chucking wood.”
“Was it, ‘How much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?’” I asked.
She looked shocked. “You know the question?”
“What were the answers?” I asked.
“One said, ‘One Log.’ Another said, ‘2 cord.’ And the last one just said, ‘choose me, choose me,’ which I know was a dumb answer.”
I laughed. “The phrase is just a common, crazy thing we sometimes say in the United States. I’m sure the professor was using it to give you some free points. He probably expected you to choose the last one, but I’m sure he’ll give you points for any of them.”
Valentina smiled and dried her tears. Then she asked, “So how much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?”
I smiled. “I’m sure we’ll never really know.”
