Convincing a quiet class to communicate

The tale of a change of direction

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Welcome to the fifth article in the series Words tripping off the tongue which shares class activities developed in reponse to things students say about their difficulties of speaking in public. As a teacher of English as a foreign language, I have always been on the lookout for ways of inviting students to want to participate in class and learn to enjoy making their voice heard – especially with students not in the habit of speaking out. But what do you do when a whole class seems to freeze at the idea of simply speaking? It could be time for a serious change of direction.

Close encounter with a collection of curiously calm students

Among secondary school teachers of all subjects, classroom mangement and keeping control are constant preoccupations. It takes time to find the balance between being able to affirm authority while also showing you are receptive and willing to adapt to student needs, just as it does to know how to switch configurations from whole to groups to pairs or individual work depending on the task so that interaction and emulation can occur.

But let me tell you about a class of 24 intelligent, successful students in their Senior year in a French lycée I met as part of my annual teaching schedule. A visitor to the class would have been struck by how well-behaved they all were. As their teacher, I was struck by their strange silence. Speaking seemed to be anything but enjoyable and, from almost our first meeting, I was surprised by the quietness of the lessons. I was experienced with teaching at this level, and familiar with the materials we were using, but I wasn’t used to such a wall of silence. They were so calm, it was eerie and, what could have been a restful experience, became an ordeal.

Every teacher knows that the success of a lesson is never guaranteed until that lesson is over. We are all human, we work with other humans in class, and the unexpected is never far away. And while unexpected questions from students can enrich and improve a lesson, the unexpected lack of student reaction or interest can be crushing when it happens, putting our best laid plans in peril. Like everyone, I’ve certainly had my share of flops with unresponsive classes where nothing seemed to get them talking, and I’ve had to come to terms with that awful sinking feeling. Teaching is wonderful but, in moments like these, it can be a lonely profession.

Interpreting the wall of student silence

What was the message here? I wondered. Was it teenage non-communication from people who preferred to watch rather than to take part? Or was it non-cooperation resulting from an inability to respond or a refusal to collaborate? Or was I simply going about things the wrong way?

When I spoke to colleagues from other subjects who also taught the class they said they were nice and that there were some very good pupils. That didn’t really help me. I was a language teacher. I don’t try to impress classes with my knowledge by giving a lecture and having them take notes. I’m more in the business of involving everyone in a collective effort.

Class-times for our two sessions per week didn’t help thing much : last period before lunch on Wednesdays – there is no school on Wednesday afternoon in France – and last period on Friday afternoon just before the week-end. Could their non-reaction simply be late-morning hunger pangs and thoughts of a free afternoon on Wednesday, and end-of-week tiredness on a Friday? Partly. Unfortunately, there was no way to change those class-times!

I’ve always been an optimistic teacher. I’ve never wanted to endure, or to force my pupils to endure an hour of torture in my class. So here, over a period of weeks, I tested different options which would change the experience of these classes for all of us. I showed them that I was a teacher who could be friendly, serious, sensitive, sincere or strict. I used teaching materials which were varied, in touch with events and which could be seen to stimulate debate. Or so I thought. The weeks passed and I got to know these people better, discovering that they were effectively a nice group with some bright students but … I was bored.

And I was not in the habit of feeling bored in my own lessons! Time to face facts. Time to initiate a class discussion on our drooping dynamic.

Starting a classroom conversation

In the second half of our next class, I deliberately finished the work in English early. We had finished a cycle of the syllabus so it was a good time to stop and talk. I switched to French and explained that I wanted to take a few minutes to exchange on how we all thought the English class was going. After this very open introduction, I invited any comments.

The few students who spoke said they enjoyed our class, found it interesting and motivating. This was fine but, in the age of Google ratings on line, I know people are very liberal with praise without necessarily saying what they really think. It wasn’t wild enthusiasm on their part but, as is often the case with Senior year lycée classes, unless there is a conflict situation, a sincere and honest discussion always begins calmly.

Fine, I said next, so why is everything so quiet? Is it just me, or have you felt it too? I waited. The elephant in the room began to stretch. One pupil suggested : I think we’re afraid of making mistakes. Heads nodded, and the facial expressions around the class seemed to suggest that there were others who agreed. I needed to know more : You mean you don’t want to make mistakes in front of me, or in front of your classmates? Apparently, that was a diffcult one to answer, but somebody said : A bit of both, Sir. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best question I could have asked.

This sort of conversation is very much like walking on thin ice, but I had to keep the class with me by sticking to the theme of mistakes which had been mentioned. What to do next? What to say? Without intending to, I made a mistake with what I said next : We’re a team. This isn’t just my class, it’s something we have to do together. Your participation is crucial.

What was wrong with that? It was a teacher-thought, and not the way they saw the situation. The sort of thing teachers write on report cards : Should participate more … Participation too limited… I expect more participation in the future… As I said, a teacher-thought.

It was also a mistake to say this because these students didn’t seem to be in defiance or in denial of this odd situation. Perhaps there were some who were convinced that there was always a single right answer – which they had to find, which I was expecting – in order to speak or take part in class. Some students, but not the whole class.

Hoping for more of a conversation, I changed tactics : There’s no life in a language class when there’s no interaction. You know that. Every time you come to class, I invite you to join in but, for the moment … only with a modest degree of success. This comment drew a few laughs. People relaxed a little – myself included. At least it was a reaction, and that in itself was a beginning. If you’re afraid of not being able to give the right answer, let me reassure you. Most of the time, when I invite you to react or to join in, there isn’t only one possible answer. Each class I have is different so, in order for this to work, I have to be flexible and receptive. If I’m looking for something specific from you – one thing, and only that – I say so. Otherwise, I’m open to whatever you’d like to propose in response. But I can’t do interaction on my own!

I paused here and took a deep breath : Please feel free to speak here as you are. In this class you can even – sometimes – make mistakes. In English, I added : I want you to know that this is a safe place for you to speak.¹ That sequence drew several nods from some of the class. But others were still looking at me with glazed expressions looking like staring cats who may have thoughts but lack speech to verbalise them.

Shall we dance?

It is said that successful speaking in public in front of an audience, or enjoying a dialogue to one other person involves minds dancing together : minds meet and language invites us to move to the same music. This is called neural coupling : “Neural coupling is the literal synchrony in brain states between speaker and listener. When you’re the speaker, your goal is to replicate the same pattern of brain activity that you have in your head inside the head of your conversational partner.”²

Storytellers have been exploiting this fact for generations, and listeners have loved them for it. Science has now caught up and been able to demonstrate that the same brain areas are stimulated by oral exchange whether we are speakers or listeners.³ In the teaching situation I am describing, my invitation to dance wasn’t having a lot of success. The conversation with the whole class was an attempt to find out more. After reassuring the class, I wondered what would come next.

Then a pupil from the back of the class asked to speak. Personally, Sir – and I’m not saying this is true for the other people here, but what I want to say is also valid for classes in other subjects, not just language classes – when I hold back in class and don’t say anything, it’s because I get the impression that something is expected that I can’t possibly give. After thanking the pupil for sharing this, I asked her the inevitable question : And in your opinion, what is expected of you exactly? The girl thought for a moment and then, shrugging her shoulders like someone stating the obvious, said : The perfect answer, perfectly said, no mistakes … This got the approval of the majority. That was it. And this was a chance I couldn’t miss to say, like somebody having just been given a key to understanding : In fact, you’re describing a quest for perfection. The audio selfie with no filters necessary!

Connecting the idea of being confronted with the sound of your own voice with that of being confronted with a selfie of your own face is useful way into talking about holding back from speaking in class. I would only fully understand this later – and have written about it at greater length elsewhere.⁴

For the time being, I glanced deliberately round the class : You seem to be under the impression that, if you’re afraid of speaking in class because what comes out may not be perfect, it’s better not to say anything. Let’s try and change that by giving you the opportunity to dare to say more. Because, when we communicate we are constantly inventing. We can’t calculate everything we say in everyday life because there’s no space, so we simply take into account the parameters of whatever conversation we’re in. We do our best. Sometimes it’s difficult to invent something which expresses what we are thinking feeling or asking ourselves about. But, ultimately, here, today – even if it hasn’t been easy – we’ve managed to talk to each other. It’s a beginning. In our next class we move on to a new chapter in the syllabus, so it’s a good time to chnage the way we work. Thank you for your … participation today. And see you next time for something different, something which will help us work together differently.

I acted as if the class was over. Which, for me, it was. I was already trying to think ahead. I went back to my desk and started putting my things in order. But nobody had moved. For the students, it wasn’t over. Their minds were still dancing. Somebody in the front row raised a hand : Sir, what are we going to do next time? The expectation in this question, plus the fact that nobody had moved from their seats at what was supposed to be the end of the class – need I say that this is unusual? – confirmed the importance of our conversation. The question was so appropriate that, even if I didn’t have an answer, I had to come up with something. What had I said? When we communicate, we invent constantly. Time to invent. I paused, took a deep breath, and said : You’ll have to give me a moment to get my ideas sorted before I can answer that precisely. But one thing is certain. We’re going to be focused on oral expression. You’re going to love every minute. And I can’t wait to start! That was all I could come up with, but it gave them something to take away. And something for me to carry into my preparation.

Communication means constant invention

Communication means constant invention. At some point in our everyday lives, we’ve all experienced moments of being able to talk without seeming to have to think about it. What we say interests others when we take an interest in them as we speak, and the class conversation had definitely captured my interest. I had come away from it with a general objective in mind. I needed to find a way to free my students from the idea that, if they were afraid to speak, then it was better to keep quiet.

I had gleaned two important ideas : the fear of making mistakes and the impression that something is expected that the speaker can’t possibly give. I knew that I had to use these to introduce more opportunities for inventing in class by focusing on the question : How can we speak in a way that meets with listener expectations?

The next article coming in the series Words tripping off the tongue will tell the story of what happened next. What’s the title to look out for? Communicating means constantly inventing – because beating the fear of speaking meant inventing a form of communication which felt more natural to the students I had in that class.

Watch this space in the weeks ahead. Or subscribe to receive notifications of new publications as they appear.

Notes

1. See the Wikipedia page Safe space for more on this key concept. ↩︎
2. How Two Brains Synchronize in Conversation, Matt Johnson, psychologytoday.com, updated 8 Dec 2024. ↩︎
3. For more on this subject, see Brain-to brain coupling : A mechanism for creating and sharing a social world by Uri Hasson‘s team at Princeton University from 2012. ↩︎
4. Why hearing your own voice is like looking at a selfie describes this phenomenon in more detail, and a related article, Teenage voices as part of a live news programme in class, describes a procedure for working on accepting the sound of your own voice. ↩︎