Watching Ferris Bueller at home one Sunday with my husband. During the scene with Ben Stein, when he drones on about the Smoot Hawley tariff act, there are multiple closeups of dazed and drooling students, eyes fixed on some point in another galaxy.

I fell off the couch crying with laughter. My husband just looked at me convulsing on the floor.

“Apparently you relate to this movie.”

“Yes.”

My solution to sleeping students is to talk about bringing ice cubes or blue eyeshadow to class. They bolt upright. I never say how exactly these items might be employed. Such is the power of imagination.