"Red-rover Elana, red-rover, Dina. Batya started so Elana came. Elana started maybe."

The chanting grew louder, quicker tempo. "Red-rover Elana, red-rover, Dina. ..."

What were they on?

I peered over the top of my scuffed list and stared at the girls in front of me. There were five of them now, enthusiastically chanting a string of nonsense. "Can't I study in here? There's a quiz in a few minutes!"

"But we are studying!" they retorted and continued with the inane chanting.
Or so I thought.

My classmates had discovered the Magic of Mnemonics.

Fast forward a few years.

I am at the door of my Jewish History classroom, test piles tucked under my arm, when I hear it. Strange tunes being repeated, from one girl to the next. I listen closely - those words sound familiar. Ah, of course. They are studying for my test. A surge of pride electrifies me. I've made it! I've presented my students with a course of study serious enough to prompt the creation of crazy mnemonics. Childhood dream, fulfilled.


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