Imogen Rorhs, a student at King’s College London, wrote an article for the national university publication The Tab earlier this february that scrutinised students who don’t contribute in seminars, asking, “What’s the point of going if you’re not going to say anything?” At the time, I felt wounded reading Rorh’s article: as a student who has struggled to “pipe up” throughout my degree, the article left me with the overriding feeling that my presence in my university classes is considered insignificant by others; that students hold the view that because I’m quiet I’m therefore a vampire who attends tutorials to “feed” off their ideas. Ultimately, the KCL student’s article told me that my value as a student meant less than those who are able to verbalise freely and confidently in front of a class full of people the verse of Shakespeare with so much ease they may as well be singing a pop song, even though we’ve all earnt our place here.
(Photo credit: news.virginia.edu)
More recently I encountered a similar argument at Bristol University. In the break between a seminar I over-heard a conversation between my tutor and a fellow student, who both argued a view that mirrored Rorhs’ suggestion,”by refusing to talk in seminars you are hindering the education of everyone else there.” I heard a tone of frustration in my tutor’s voice; an appeal for students to just “try” – in a manner that suggested those who don’t contribute must not care; that in reflection they’ve made little effort to prepare for the seminar discussion at all. In balance, I acknowledge this could well be the case; sometimes there may be a couple of students that were too inundated with work that week; did a bit too much socializing – or even – couldn’t get hold of the right copy of the text (despite having spent what felt like a day in the ASS searching to no avail). However in most cases, I’ve found that students have been quite honest about these reasons, and despite their “frustratingly lazy” approach that week, regardless, manage to contribute relevant opinions and instigate unique ideas. Surely, then, there must be another factor that Rorhs has failed to consider, that would prohibit a student in your class from talking so freely?
Being part of a generation that has grown up with more of a wealth of understanding in regards to mental health, it seems unfair to not consider how each student experiences university very differently. Rorhs’ judgement fails to consider the prevalence of social anxiety disorders amongst a large student body, anxiety.org.uk claiming that “up to 5 people in your class may be living with anxiety.” Anxiety, in similarity to conditions such as depression, can range in severity and affect anyone regardless of their age, background or social group. Anxiety disorders can be incredibly isolating and hard to explain to others, and in many cases speaking in front of a group of people can be a phobic task that can cause physical symptoms such as an inability to speak and in severe cases, panic. Rorhs’ article does not consider the difficulty and pressure that students who have anxiety have to cope with everyday. To suggest to people who struggle with anxiety and who often feel vulnerable that they should leave the learning environment if they cannot conform to a populist, preferred way of behaving is damaging; showing a lack of consideration for mental health disorders that, with 15.8% of 20-24 year olds in the UK having suffered from anxiety, are growing towards effecting a wider majority.
Of course, my criticism of Rorhs’ article is not in argument that all students who show up to seminars and don’t contribute do so because they suffer from anxiety: some students may genuinely not want to be there – switch off and daydream they were a musician instead – but generally speaking, I do believe that the majority of students have picked their humanities degree and continue to show up to class, despite not saying anything, because they are interested and engaged with the subject. As Rorhs herself questions, if quieter students genuinely didn’t have anything “meaningful to say” why would they waste £9,000 a year? My criticism lies in the small-minded suggestion that the vocal inaction of any student (who could hold genuine reasons for being shy) is because they are just “lazy.” This shows a lack of consideration for the different ways we all learn and rather dangerously promotes the idea that we should isolate those who struggle to interact. Surely we should instead work on maintaining a university environment that accepts the issues of all its students? In response, I’d argue how we should show respect for the students that may not say much, but still attend class in order to listen, consider and value other people’s opinions, even when they’re not given the room to respond.