Since
Kindergarten I’ve heard the words, “There are no stupid questions,” repeated by
authority figures time after time. There
is certainly something to be said about embracing the freedom of education that
we are lucky enough to enjoy in the United States. Still, I find there comes a time when kids
need to be told the truth about questions.
Life isn’t an elementary school classroom, and the ugly truth is that there are stupid
questions.
This
adage promotes the type of creativity and exploration that allows children to grow
immensely. To have the power and
audacity to question authority in a learning environment is prerequisite to
learning how to think as an individual.
In school, kids have the opportunity to soak up as much knowledge as
they can before graduating to a life of responsibility and independence.
The
negative side effect of this principle, however, is that students become
completely dependent on being given the answers rather than seeking the answers
themselves. Even in college classrooms,
I constantly witness intelligent students asking professors to repeat
definitions that are clearly printed in the reading, or bolded on that day’s
PowerPoint presentation. So, despite the
stupid questions mantra, I struggle to believe that every lazy reach for basic
information is really a valuable use of class time.
Obviously,
there are instances of simple questions that serve to clarify or elaborate on
any given topic of study; this post does not intend to negate the use of
questions as another tool for learning.
Instead, what I’d like to focus on is the thoughtfulness exhibited
throughout classrooms. The problem lies
in the relationship between teacher and student; in order for questions to be
worthwhile for the class, the exchange must be a dialogue, not a lecture.
The
idea is that if students ask interesting, derivative questions, the teacher
will give specific, extensive answers.
In essence, the answer can only be as good as the question that prompts
it. So, perhaps there are no bad
questions. Yet, the deeper we delve into
the subject matter, the more our teachers have to work with. If we ask for the definition, I’m afraid
that’s all we’ll get. If we dare to go
further, to reach, to leave our comfort zones, that is when we truly learn.
Students
who ask the professor for the definition of each term will usually get the
answers they seek, even if they could have found those answers themselves by
simply opening the textbook. These kinds
of students will take diligent notes; they’re not slackers, they’d just rather
ask than read. These individuals will
probably even score well on the tests; definitions are gold on multiple-choice
exams.
Nevertheless,
you’ll never hear me ask one of these questions. When I raise my hand in class it’s because I have
to something to say. I like to ask
questions that not only beg the response of the teacher, but also ones that
seek the reaction of my peers. A
classroom is a community—one whose growth is directly correlated to the effort
exhibited by both the students and the teacher, together—and stupid questions
drag that community down.