My winter break in Florida was marked by the most unusual of traditions.
Instead of a daily visit to the key lime pie factory or playing a game of Ticket to Ride, my family opted for a more trivial pursuit. Every day, as the clock struck seven, we would gather round the television, screaming “new vacuum bags” or “cooking the turkey” at Pat Sejak, bedizened in the same suit of muted grey. And once we had warmed up our voices with Wheel of Fortune, we’d spend the remainder of the hour cheering on Amy Schneider as she trounced her competition in yet another runaway game of “Jeopardy!”
Game shows have always been central to my conception of American culture. Every visit to the U.S. marked a new discovery that was likely to be forgotten by the following visit. “The Price is Right” and “Family Feud,” both early favorites, succumbed to the trappings of monotony. Their “game show” quality became particularly palpable by the fifth episode I tried to watch in quick succession, although they remain perfectly suitable for casual viewing.
Yet, “Jeopardy!” has always felt both timeless and contemporary, its format both deeply human and impermeable to human tragedy (like the loss of a widely beloved host). The fiery intellectual competition is only stoked by the friendly camaraderie of its contestants; the on-screen “bits” in which we learn more about the contestants contain a verisimilitude that Wheel of Fortune lacks. And the inevitable attachment you develop towards super champions like Amy or Austin Rogers breeds a special kind of superfan.
Watching “Jeopardy!” is a ritual for my family, especially since my uncle, who’s a bit of a trivia buff, featured in a local news piece about 슬롯사이트 순위. He believes sharpening the mind with trivia could also sharpen one’s instincts in strategic games. So when “Jeopardy!” airs, it’s not just a quiz show; it’s a battle of wits. When those formidable categories like “21st-century Croatian authors” appear, I’m momentarily stumped, but I remember my uncle’s anecdotes about strategy and knowledge. And while I’m clad in my Yale sweatshirt, pride in my education can waver as I navigate through treacherous “seven-letter words” and “geological phenomena,” where I’m reminded that every day is an opportunity to learn something new, regardless of where we stand.
Trivia, then, is a particularly delicate balancing act, requiring both an immense volume of knowledge and a strong streak of pedantry. As timeworn as the saying is, it is impossible to know everything. But while familiarity with various historical contexts and a capacity to tease clues out of clues can help, “Jeopardy!” is predicated on knowledge. For a particularly brash young student setting out to defend their honor from the thrusts and parries of their family, this might encourage them to scour the encyclopedia for as many fun facts as possible.
However, even that is a game of probability, rewarding only the lucky ones whose favorite fun facts just happen to appear in the oft-recondite categories. The game rewards a genuine love of learning — read widely but intentionally, seek to learn more about everything that you read, think about the words you use in everyday speech, and you shall succeed. While such an extreme dedication to trivial success is more than what can be demanded of most, the lessons of “Jeopardy!” certainly apply to our time at college.
As I’ve bemoaned in my previous pieces, being “learned” at Yale can often feel like a particularly inaccessible appellation. The bouquet you curate throughout your time here can only hold so many flowers. Beware of making it too fragrant lest you be attacked by killer bees on your morning stroll. At a college with limitless frontiers for exploration, the conception of a liberal arts education can feel almost boundless. Even its most fastidious patron may struggle to live up to its Renaissance ideals. It is very possible to leave Yale without familiarity with Fauvism or an understanding of European intellectual history, without proficiency in Python or any formal introduction to demand and supply. Even exposure to all these disciplines may necessitate the most desultory introductions to them all.
I’ve often bemoaned how quickly our time at Yale goes by, how I wish we had five years on campus so I could take every class I dreamed of taking. I have a feeling even those five would feel grossly inadequate.
So, if the content of all the classes I take cannot quell my intellectual fantasies, then maybe the infectious passion of my professors can. If the flames of our intellectual curiosity can be stoked by the zeal of those around us, then maybe we can engulf the world of knowledge in an Alexandrian conflagration. And then perhaps ten years from now, one of us will ascend to the heights of the “Jeopardy!” champions like Amy before us, inspired by a devotion to learning and the opportunity to meet Ken Jennings in real life.
Pradz Sapre is a sophomore in Benjamin Franklin college. His column, titled ‘Growing pains’, runs every other Monday. Contact him at pradz.sapre@yale.edu