Author: Eliza

This article first appeared in the Teaching Professor on May 18, 2017. © Magna Publications. All rights reserved.

I was watching a video of several of my students teaching this week. I had to be away for a conference, and they were scheduled to teach that day anyway, so I asked our Center for Teaching Excellence to record it. I would evaluate them later. Although most of the students in the class are planning to be English teachers, it’s not an education class. For that reason, I planned to pay closer attention to the content and preparation than to their actual pedagogy.

However, as I watched the video, I kept noticing places where discussion would be on the verge of beginning, only to see it die almost immediately. The students were prepared, and they were often asking the types of questions we want them to ask. Why did the discussion

This article first appeared in the Teaching Professor on December 17, 2018. © Magna Publications. All rights reserved.

First snowflakes of the season today. Winter is settling in out here in the Pennsylvania countryside. It’s quiet, no birdsongs in the morning, few leaves left on the trees to rustle, and frost muting the crunch of those on the ground. In the woods where I walk, the silence brings everything else into sharper focus.

We don’t always think about silence positively. Visitors sometimes tell us it’s too quiet out here. They feel anxious. Silence can be awkward—we’ve all had those moments of not knowing what to say. It can also feel like an affront. Ask a question in class, hear the silence, and feel a small surge of anger. It’s a confrontation. It’s students’ way of saying that they don’t want to sit at this learning table we’ve so carefully set.