Back when I was a teacher in a bricks and mortar school, this sort of thing amused me, but I had a pretty strict “no doodling on your papers” rule. Doodling, I felt, should be confined to sketch pads and scrap paper.
I then got married and gave birth to a son who doodled from 18 months of age to now. He scribbled on every surface imaginable, in every medium imaginable, despite the cases of plain white paper and the series of beautiful sketchbooks I provided. Sometimes it drives me crazy and sometimes I just sit and watch as a dancer materializes on the ear of a rhino, while her rescuer sits impaled upon its horn. The rescuer was rather hastily executed, because right then my inner teacher spoke up, “SERIOUSLY, Greg! Get the writing page done!”