Things My Students Taught Me: An Act of Defiance

In those days I only taught one or two classes, and it was easy to learn everyone’s name.? In fact it was necessary to do so, because class participation counted for 20%--assigned as a raw score from zero to twenty.? There was no attendance policy, but even always coming to class and never raising your hand got you just two pity points for participation.? It wasn’t one of those policies that only existed on paper, and there are students I’d been on good terms with who never spoke to me again after getting their grade.? I did take the time to explain the value of participating in class: It made the experience more enjoyable for everyone, for starters; it turned a lecture into an interactive discussion.? I asked questions in class and there was a big carrot (or a big stick, depending on your perspective) that motivated students to answer them.? That, in turn, got those who were by nature shy or quiet or reluctant to say anything for fear of being wrong, to try to rise to the occasion.? It also taught them that the world doesn’t come to an end when you say something that’s incorrect, especially when it’s met with appreciation by the instructor for the fact that you were willing to contribute to the class.? After all, making mistakes is how we learn.

There was one kid in my class that semester whom I’d met before through his friends; they’d been former students of mine. ?He was a happy, always-smiling, chatty, friendly kid, and a student athlete to boot.? ?As for the chatty part; apparently it stopped at the threshold of my classroom.? Halfway through the semester he had neither raised his hand not uttered a word, and he seemed destined to pay dearly for it.? That’s when a classmate of his told me there was a problem I didn’t quite know about: “He stutters.? And it’s really bad, too.”? I’d seen the kid out and about many times, and had plenty of casual conversations with him; he never stuttered.? “But he does in class,” his friend insisted.? “It’s the stressful environment of having to speak in front of others that brings it on.? And it’s really bad,” he repeated.? “Oh, and you can’t tell him you heard this from me!”? I promised to keep it confidential, but knew I couldn’t just let it go.

Following a custom-crafted, hand-typed email invitation to visit my office hours (as foot-typing has never been my strong suit), the kid showed up to see me.? I wasn’t stern at all; this was someone I knew personally, and could be very informal with.? I reminded him of the participation points, and asked him why he never raised his hand in class.? “I like you,” I said, “but you know me well enough to know I’ll do terrible things to your grade if you continue just sitting there quietly.? What on earth is going on?”? He hesitated, as if he were weighing the pros and cons of what he was about to say next.? “I stutter sometimes,” he confessed.? I looked surprised, and he explained that it didn’t happen in casual or social situations; only in class.? I’m glad I’d had the chance to think this through in advance.? So I made him an offer he could—and should—refuse:

“In that case, you can write a short paper, and I’ll give you the participation points—all of them,” I offered.? “And you should absolutely not take me up on it, because you need to face this issue; sooner or later it will come up at work, where the stakes are much higher.”? He was afraid.? He said he was afraid people would laugh at him.? He was afraid of the mockery that seemed all but certain.? But I assured him that the only person whose opinion had any practical value; the person who would evaluate his performance and who would look out for him, was squarely on his side.? I promised I’d make anyone who dared snicker at his stuttering feel very sorry they ever crossed our path, and he knew I was good for it.? “I’ll give you ten participation points if you raise your hand just one time, and ten more if you do it again.? Take it; it’s a good deal.? But if you decide you’d rather write the paper, the option is still on the table.”? I told him to think about it and sent him on his way.

It's an expression, of course, but have you ever seen anyone’s jaw actually drop when they’re stunned?? That’s how his friend reacted when this kid raised his hand in class.? But his expression was serious, stone-faced, and he was looking straight ahead.? I called on him.? He started to speak, and he stuttered—more than I’ve ever heard anyone stutter before or since.? He started the same word over and over, unable to get past the first letter.? He got it out, and got stuck again a couple of words later.? I didn’t finish his sentence, and I didn’t even flinch; I waited until he was done, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.? No one in class turned to stare, and no one so much as smiled—let alone snickered.? A room full of students sat there in awe of their brave classmate.? Being brave is not having no fear; it’s facing the fear you have.? And what had previously been a scared, intimidated kid towered over all of us that day.

I caught him after class, and told him how proud I was.? I told him that if he did it just once more, he’d get all the participation points—but this time I urged him not to take the deal.? “This is your chance,” I reminded him.? “You saw people’s reaction; it was admiration, not mockery or contempt.? This is not the time to stop short; keep your hand up; make me skip over you because I’m tired of calling on you all the time.? Let it sink in that you have faced your fears and won, and you can keep doing it, defiant of others, beyond this class, this semester, and this University.”? And that’s exactly what he did.? I hope he has since taught that to his own kids.

Telling the story almost makes it sound effortless: Problem + encouraging words = solution and triumph.? It was not effortless.? It was really hard, and it required courage and resilience; the kind I might not have had myself if I’d been in his shoes.? Words of encouragement are cheap; nothing happens unless someone’s listening, keeps an open mind, and is bold enough to take action against all odds.? I was the student that day, and he was the teacher.? I count myself lucky to have learned that lesson.

Homines dum docent discunt.?