Sleeping in class. Luckily not at Conn. Photo from web.
Perhaps you are like me: clinically introverted – unable to speak confidently before a group consisting of more than a few close friends. It could be the case that you are serially uninterested in the course material. Who could blame you? That freshman seminar certainly may not be living up to the standards so illustriously described in that enigmatic packet you received over the summer. Still, maybe this morning’s post-alcohol induced fog has proved itself a more than worthy adversary for that delicate academic sensibility. Whatever the reason, class participation has seemingly reached an all-time low.
I am in no way suggesting that no interesting or engaging class discussions take place. Nor am I asserting that any one of us is incapable of providing insightful and valuable input in any of our scholastic pursuits. Instead, I am only remarking upon the diminishing frequency with which such remarks are made in the context of, at the very least, my own courses. Some days are better than others. The others, however, drag on for a nightmarishly extended period of time. The professor may ask for a basic comprehensive overview of a topic. Or, in an attempt to rouse the class from a non-participatory coma, he or she may wave the smelling salt of devil’s advocacy under our collective noses.
As a measure of last resort, the professor may even drop an atomic bomb of controversy with the intent to incinerate whatever prevents productive discussion. (Good luck burning through the miasma of Friday morning’s hangovers.) The resulting blast does little to unsettle a sea of patently indifferent faces and fails to fix any furtive, text-scanning eyes. Silence hangs for a few insufferable moments longer. Resigned, the professor answers his or her question with another, equally ineffective atom bomb.
Recently, this phenomenon has gotten so unbearably bad that, save for a few consistently participating voices, I am fairly sure that some of my courses have turned into a practice in rhetoric for each of my professors. Perhaps out of pity for their frustration, or, more likely, to interject some sound byte into the abject quiet pervading the class, I have taken it upon myself to begin participating in earnest. Now, clearly I do not view myself as some sort of self-righteous savior, come to deliver my classes from the throes of silence. Generally speaking, I am left with feelings of regret and confusion after opening my mouth to espouse what I thought was a well-organized and meaningful point. In reality, I fumble over words and ideas and forget the main gist of my thought before it has been delivered. I find that I usually wring out my thoughts with all the elegance and efficiency of a dirty dish-rag. So much for cogency.
Despite my failings as a public speaker, I find that my newfound zeal for class participation has its benefits. Not only is class now bearable, but I find myself more engaged with readings and assignments than I ever have been before. Additionally, the length of classes has shrunken from the Twilight Zone-esque eternity to a manageable hour-and-a-half or so. Surprisingly, despite my inefficiencies, I find myself actually looking forward to class, eager for discussion.
So, I urge you, fight through hesitations, lack of interest, nausea or some combination of the three. We are fortunate enough to attend a college with excellent and plentiful professors who are, in my experience, more than happy to hear any thoughts you may have regarding course material (despite any similarities your thoughts may share with my own garbled commentary). Participate! Ask questions! The benefits far outweigh any perceived drawbacks. At the very least, I ask you to do so as a personal favor. Please don’t let me go on embarrassing myself, by myself, any longer. •
Well-voiced! If an atom bomb doesn’t stir us, what will?