Comment on The Questions We Ask: Reviewing 10 years of research on Cultural Attitudes Towards Technology and Communication for C

On a much different note—though in my relatively average mind, related (and in my native tongue of ENGLISH =o) )—you can spend 5 minutes with a child and realize that having questions is instinctive. You’re right about adults not having near as many. At least not verbalizing them. Somewhere throughout their formative years we squelch the curiosity, or don’t provide a learning environment conducive of asking them. Or don’t provide an atmosphere where they feel comfortable asking them. Or, most likely, don’t place enough value (“priority”) on critical thinking and higher-level questions to show them our “approval”, and as children are approval-seeking (…as well as, let’s be honest, most adults…) they quickly learn that adults aren’t interested in all their questions. They are not rewarded socially for asking them.

Watch anytime you’re in public. A child asks a question and almost as immediately an adult tries to shut it down, or at best, give the short-answer so they’ll quiet down as soon as possible, and doing so with thinly-veiled exasperation. The other day I was standing in line at a store and the child in front of me had an unyielding stream of questions, and the adult with him was actually answering, and seeming to enjoy it. I was completely shocked (and amused, and pleasantly surprised). So much so that I deduced she must have been an aunt or babysitter rather than his parent. (Awful assumption, I know.)

We get tired. Thinking about other people’s questions stretches our brain capacity and brings us out of easy-response mode, and takes time to think through. We get impatient. We think of our to-do list and don’t want to waste our time. As an educator, this translates to me thinking of all the curriculum I’m responsible to cover and all the evaluations and testing both my students and myself are subject to, and I recognize the tendency to feel like I need to cruise at power-speed through my lesson plans. Get it? Got it? Okay, let’s move on. No more questions. Put your hand down. There are 27 of you and 1 of me and there’s no possible way I can handle 8 questions from each of you. Do the math. 216 questions. An hour. 1296 questions a day. Tiring just thinking about it, no?

Classrooms that don’t reward children who ask questions teach students the underlying message that higher-level thinking is not valued in our society, nor do they develop the child’s analysis, synthesis, and evaluation skills (Bloom). We (educators) too frequently suffice with assessments of regurgitated facts that aren’t true indicators of long-term learning and deeper understanding of principles—in the interest of time…and at immense sacrifice.

It takes time to let my children learn by asking and doing, instead of telling them. It takes time to ask a child to expound on a thought (though it provides incredible insight and sometimes brings interesting meaning to seemingly irrelevant comments—which are frequent, I might add =o) ). It takes time to stay calm and pause my students in the middle of a heated situation and help them evaluate the real source of the problem and guide them to solving it—resisting the urge to tell them exactly why they’re in trouble and who needs to apologize to who and for what (How much problem solving are they really developing when children stand wide-eyed looking up at a frustrated adult?). It takes time to teach them to reflect on an experiment or on the day, developing their metacognitive abilities. It takes time to be a good listener. It takes time to develop a rapport with a child where the relationship is conducive to their feeling like they can ask you anything. But I don’t think there is a more important aspect to develop in a parent-child relationship than that of open communication and a safe environment where there is trust and where they feel they can come to you with anything. Classrooms—particularly with high enrollment—cannot be as conducive to questions as a one-on-one relationship with your own child. There is no better place to develop communication skills, build trust, encourage curiosity and learning, shape priorities, and formulate values than with the family and in the home. Listening. And talking. Good naturedly, without impatience. Children thrive in that atmosphere. They learn that society values their questions, we value their thoughts (and underlying all that: that they are loved and accepted for who they are. Which is the most basal human desire.). Schools can try, but children have always learned more from their own parents than from their teachers.

My sister answers all her children’s questions. And she doesn’t give them the dumbed-down version. I have seen my nieces and nephew develop critical-thinking abilities beyond their presumed developmental level. Maybe I’m biased and bragging. But I hope to be a parent like her.

(Forgive the relatively extreme simplicity…I am of the walking/chewing gum-challenged crowd. =oP )