Evolved Communication in the Classroom: I Guess We Should Listen To Women
By: Kate Weber
Tags: Teaching, Feminism, Language, Higher Education, Learning

“Classroom Chairs 2” by James Sarmiento (old account) is licensed under CC BY 2.0

Considering so many of us teachers are revamping our course delivery to include more text-based content, now is an excellent time to evaluate the actual words and phrases we use to create successful learning opportunities, especially since we have more control over our language online than we do in live classrooms. Language, however, is often where prejudiced beliefs live. Basically, language that appears ambiguous or too concerned with emotions is associated with femininity, a weakness to be avoided. The reality, though, is what we tend to categorize as feminine, soft, and lacking confidence not only unfairly discriminates but also actually performs important cognitive work.

Teachers’ language can invite others to participate and model the thinking process, not just the final word on the subject. If we believe a classroom should be interactive and students responsible for making meaning, then teachers must be open, curious, and thoughtful.

Ann Friedman’s article, “Can We Just, Like, Get Over the Way Women Talk?” helped me realize I was carrying around internalized loathing toward my own language that was connected to systemic sexism: “It’s not that I hate women, I just hate how they talk.” Friedman’s article shows, however, that in addition to being discriminatory, this kind of criticism cuts off opportunities for deeper communication for everyone involved. She writes that qualifying or filler words like “just” or “I guess” “are actually signs of highly evolved communication … we are sending signals to the listener to help them figure out what’s new, what’s important, or what’s funny. We’re connecting with them.”

To put it another way, we have a lot to learn from those who use this kind of language, which might be why you see these language patterns among effective teachers. Teachers have the power to influence others where their words might set the tone or be put into action, so our language choices matter very much. Two pertinent questions then are:

How can I ensure my words reduce harmful barriers to learning and increase engagement? How can I model the language of thinking, the language I hope my students will use to develop their identity as a lifelong learner?

The kind of language that answers these questions is the very language criticized for being too weak or just annoying, often pinned to the way women talk.

Ron Ritchhart’s Creating Cultures of Thinking: The 8 Forces We Must Master to Truly Transform Our Schools has an entire chapter devoted to classroom language that can foster profound learning experiences for students. He refers to it as “mindful language.”

One example is asking students, “What might be happening in this picture?” instead of, “What is happening in this picture?” One invites possibilities from which students can come to logical conclusions; the other invites correct answers only. In another example, a teacher suggests their lesson for the day is one way to solve a problem, rather than the only way. Ritchhart claims these subtle moves that encourage interpretation and ambiguity have the “power to keep the mind in an open state, avoiding early closure, pursuing possibilities, and listening to information presented by others.” It’s mindful in that it’s rooted in expanding the mind rather than resolving, closing, and moving on.

He later explains that this mindful or conditional language encourages students to draw upon prior knowledge and seek understanding rather than short-term task completion.

Closely related is the importance of building trust through listening and validation. Ritchhart highlights the significance of using language that makes people feel their contributions are worthwhile and by extension that they are worthwhile too. Teachers must be sincerely curious about their students’ line of thinking or their goals.Without this invitation to connect and explore, you get students who can pass a test but don’t know anything.

My classes often end up very personal. While I’ve doubted the educational value of sharing my own experiences with my students, when I share, they do, and that exchange leads to creative risks. In the end, they’re better able to integrate their own personal lives with the topics and methods assigned.

Students’ willingness to be excited about and invested in their own learning is even more noticeable among students most likely to experience distress and dropout. They succeed in areas they have not been able to before.

This trust and relationship-based learning originates with how I talk with them and how I phrase our assignments and discussion prompts from day one. Although I have tried to trade my “ums” for deliberate pauses, I’ve also just made it clear that I do that and it’s normal, so we can all shrug it off. I use “might” and “could” frequently, plus a lot of “consider this” and “what if.” I am also transparent when they or I raise questions I don’t have the answer to. I wonder right along with them.

They catch on to the tenor of our class and duplicate it for themselves and each other. They listen, suggest, ask, and digest.

And if all this mindful, social learning doesn’t sound like the behaviors attributed to traditional femininity, I don’t know what does. It definitely flies in the face of the “feelings aren’t facts” crowd. But if the goal is not to impress anti-education naysayers but to implement research-supported pedagogy that facilitates long-term retention and creative applications of knowledge, then, it turns out, bringing others into the fold, valuing them, and establishing trust are vital.

It’s easy but totally inaccurate to say women’s language choices stem from low self-esteem, which is a product of systemic sexism, only corrected by talking more like men. The more advanced lesson here is examining the effects all language has in different contexts, across different identities. We aren’t, in other words, doing men any favors by insisting they may only speak or write one way. And no one benefits by suggesting there are only two genders and therefore two choices of communication.

Instead of giving anyone a blanket statement to stop apologizing, hedging, and hesitating and to speak with conviction, we must understand this conditional language serves important social and educational functions.

Teachers in particular should always seek better ways of reaching their students and not limit themselves to outdated models of how we relate to students or even how we think of ourselves. There is a time for conviction and right answers, but it comes only after pooling our shared intellectual resources and recognizing a broad spectrum of human expression.