Many years ago, when a new student joined my English class after the school year began, she responded to a question with “I don’t know.” Some kids quietly groaned or rolled their eyes. A couple leaned over and whispered, “That’s not allowed in this class.” That surprised me because I never told them not to say “I don’t know.” Sometimes, I would correct them with “I’m sure you meant that you don’t know yet.” And then I would continue to push for engagement. In other words, saying “I don’t know” wasn’t going to dismiss me.
I understand that it can be very stressful to be called on in class, even if you are prepared. Most students would prefer that teachers only call on people who raise their hand. But it’s important to stop hiding. Students need to learn to take risks and speak up—loud and clear. The world won’t wait for you to find your voice.
Most teachers push students to participate, but they are kind and supportive. Stumped students are often asked to discuss concepts or problems in small groups or with seat partners. Feedback before going public can provide a little boost of bravery. Students should also be able to share another person’s idea if they give credit. Repeating an idea reinforces thought, compliments the source, and opens the floor for follow-up questions.
Unprepared students could try a trick one of my professors surprisingly shared: If you don’t have time to do all of the requisite reading, at least read the first two pages and know that material. Lectures usually follow assigned reading chronologically, so when class begins, raise your hand for the initial questions. Once you’ve been called on, raise your hand at least one more time. Then, relax. Most likely, you’re done.
In order to prevent this kind of gaming the system, teachers should call on students through some random and constantly changing process. At times, they should also call on the same student more than once in a class period. And those who raise their hand should also be given the floor.
In my English classes, when students draw a blank regarding a line of poetry or a sentence in a novel, I often ask them to choose an interesting word to discuss. We’ll talk about synonyms and how changing that word impacts meaning. I also encourage guessing as it still requires some connection with the text and gives me an avenue for further probing. A guess is often closer to a reasonable response than students usually anticipate. They can even ask me a question. Enquiry can reveal a glimmer of understanding. No matter what, there will be some back-and-forth.
This approach was always the backbone of discussion in my class. Students geared up for it. They were often amazed at how deep we could go on a single metaphor. Watching others struggle through risk taking started to look normal and less threatening. The process worked quite well—until one day when it didn’t.
While discussing an Emily Dickinson poem in one of my honors classes, a couple of students answered tentatively and we worked through their postulations to establish greater clarity. Then, I asked “Anna” a question about the next stanza. She sat silently, which is another way of saying “I don’t know.” Since poetry can be quite complex, I asked if she would like to ask me a question. After a pause, she admitted not having done her homework.
Well, OK then. At this point, Anna wouldn’t be able to move forward without reading the poem. Since rereading poetry is good for everyone, I asked the whole class to read the poem again quietly and then talk to each other specifically about the first metaphor in the second stanza, which was the focus of my question for Anna. After the discussion waned, I returned to Anna with the same question. Still nothing. I rephrased it. Nothing. I asked her to tell me something someone in her discussion group had said. Silence. Obviously, continuing to dig would be unproductive. She didn’t seem to have brought her shovel today.
I wasn’t angry. Everyone can have a bad day. Maybe she shut down from the embarrassment of not having done her homework. This was, after all, an honors class. So I did something I had never done before—or since. I asked Anna if she would like to get out of the hotseat. She very meekly said, “Yes, please.” Other students addressed the topic I had asked Anna to analyze, and class continued as usual. We never spoke of the incident. Anna was her usual smiling and mostly cooperative self for the rest of the semester.
But since no good deed goes unpunished, at the end of the year, Anna’s parents set up a meeting with the principal. My presence was required, but I was the topic, not Anna. First of all, they didn’t appreciate the lack of A’s on their daughter’s report card. Well, just like homework, A’s don’t magically drop from the sky. What did they want? A better grade? An apology? My head on a platter? I never knew for sure.
But their main issue seemed to be with the term “hotseat.” Anna understood this simple metaphor and was grateful that I released her from the task at hand. But what were her parents’ objections? Did they envision Anna in front of the class being berated by her classmates? Did they somehow think she was being punished? Since they made no mention of Anna’s culpability, I asked if they would like to hear what had happened. They did not. Astonished, I sat in silence. The principal finally said, “Well, I’d like to know.”
Ultimately, the principal explained that pushing students to work through complex concepts is completely appropriate, especially in an advanced class. Asking if she’d like to get out of the hotseat was merciful and Anna’s grades are her responsibility. Done.
Most parents want to know what happens with their children. They listen. They ask teachers good questions and help create solutions for problems their kids are having or causing. They know that their children need to learn that it’s OK to be wrong and that a guess is better than silence. Most parents understand that struggles help students toughen up and struggling through a challenge enhances confidence. Being too scared to be wrong dooms people to a very limited life.
Developing tenacity leads to strength and bravery that continues to grow through the years. I wish this for all my students. Even those who occasionally have a bad day, like Anna, who emailed an apology four years later. It wasn’t necessary. Teachers expect to deal with a variety of issues. Nonetheless, I was touched and proud of Anna.
So dear teachers, please, always insist on getting some kind of response when you ask your students questions. Do not allow them to give up on thinking. Just don’t call it a hotseat!!
