Sick of sweeping statements? Classroom moods and attitudes to get better discourse
Last night I met with a friend that I hadn't seen in a while. One of the impromptu conversation topics later on was about different infinites, countable and non-countable ones (which, in retrospect, should have been around what countability means). I eventually got somewhat annoyed and changed the topic as I seemed to be failing to convey the main point I was intending; from this I lost quite a bit of sleep about it this morning—but I'll get a good post out of it, maybe. Also inspired by a recent comment by another friend, Becky, that all questions in natura are, in fact, statements (or have implicit ones).
This post was originally going to be two points: one, a pragmatic pedagogical suggestion framed around tensions between evaluation and education, and the other, now planned as a follow-up post, is about a micro-macro stumbling point that offers some sociological insights based on hypothetical psychological instincts.
The suggestion:
When a student makes a statement, especially one that is ridiculous, seemingly closed-minded, overly simplistic, or simply having "missed the point" or an obvious premise, ask them to rephrase it as a question. Maybe suggest they write it down because, for most, it's easier then to make it better.
It's not perfect, and it's not a catch-all, but for most students it's a step in the right direction. Why draw the line here though? In grammar, a major modal distinction is between realis and irrealis moods. They, of course, describe real or factual situations vs those less so.1 Asking questions can still be done in the realis mood, which many students, I am guessing, will have an easier time with. It is more of an ask—and they have enough on their plate—and more importantly, ethically dubious, to expect asks or discussions framed in irrealis moods when it comes to social science matters, which, ahem, are as real as the very classroom interlocution (seriously).
Of note, there already are many instructors who, empathetic and sympathetic to such students who make sweeping statements, automatically interpret it as a sincere question in good faith, phrased horribly perhaps out of anxiety, impatience, or whatever. These people are kind at heart and more tolerant (of people's feelings). Many other instructors, including myself, take it at face value and thus don't respond educationally. But, sure as heck, the evaluation is still there. Imagine a typical group discussion with an associated participation mark: does the overconfident student, one who makes sweeping and oversimplified statements, and seemingly refusing to respond, engage, or even recognize the main points being raised by others, get a good mark?
I will try to argue that regardless of how you, or I, or any instructor receives it, it is worth doing for the student themself.
First, the grammatical mood a student uses affects their learning attitudes. Their disposition (or habit) for them, Aristotle would agree, defines a large part of just what kind of person they are and will become. How we talk and what we say reflects a large part of our own social and public persona. We then tend to live up (or down) to that, probably more so in those critical teen and early adult years.
Second, because there are such diverse interpretations (like the different groups of instructors), there are serious interpersonal consequences for how people respond to attitudes. Some might recognize a joke—or the potential to disarm and reduce a dubious or toxic statement to a joke—others might "take it the wrong way," and yet others, like myself, might do all of the above and then "troll them back," also known as "pushing buttons" or "escalating." If it gets to fisticuffs or worse, the intent of the original actor hardly means anything now.2
Lastly, like it or not, many of us now live where it is expected or desired, that people mean what they say (but not so much say what they mean). This is particularly so for politicians and other such "leaders." There is less and less room for diversity of interpretation irrespective of political camp. Making a statement—realis or irrealis—especially in public, is tantamount to declaring one's lot. By and large, people who are actually more responsible and more accountable—desirable traits, in a vacuum—are pigeonholed and press ganged into reductive camps; one must perform an increasingly rigid (and toxic) set of actions and consequences in order to be "true" to what one happened to have said, regardless of if they knew, actually or constructively, "what they were saying." This rigid and highly punitive model, at the extreme, assumes everyone around (and thus you) as evil, where everything said is equivalent to words on a demonic contract, to which the only choice is to maliciously comply or, if "responsible" and "kind at heart," owningly comply.3 There is no opting out, nor will most say "I didn't mean that." There is less and less opportunity for people to walk back what they say and to change their minds. Once people pick a proverbial hill, they are pretty much expected to stay there forever lest they be branded a flip-flopper or whatever we call that now.
I can't wait until we start retiring words like "real" or "factual" when discussing things that directly relate to the nature of reality itself. E.g., "incorrigible" would be a better replacement. It seems to me that what is socially accepted to be called "fact" is based off one contingent metaphysical model—albeit an arguably pragmatic one. It's not that honest, and the lack of honesty and acceptance around what is vague and what we don't know is a driving sociopolitical issue today, one that justifies all kinds of blatantly rapacious policies and norms. Fortunately, socially constructed metaphysics, like any conceit, is something we can plausibly change, even if it necessarily takes many generations.
The validity of any imputation of intent is totally socioculturally moderated; any differences between two individual's shared culture is the same as a gap in their ability to accurately read intent. (Is this empirical or analytical? Also, did the fact that it was written as an descriptive/indicative statement bother you?)
What are some of the other ways we exemplify, demonstrate, or signal a "non-malicious" attitude, whether for ourselves or others?