A brief course in the teaching process

CHAPTER XI
QUESTIONING

In all teaching much depends upon the skill with which the teacher stimulates and guides the class by means of the questions which she asks. Occasionally one finds a teacher who seems to think that the sole purpose of questioning is to test the knowledge of her pupils. She asks hundreds of questions which can be answered merely by an appeal to the memory. This sort of testing is valuable for review, but it does not necessitate thought. When a teacher habitually asks these fact questions, the children respond by trying to remember the words or the facts given in their books.

A type of question still less worthy is the direct question,—the one that can be answered by yes or no. The teacher who asks, “Is Albany on the Hudson River?” does not expect the children to think. If they are fairly bright, they will probably guess from her inflection whether the answer is yes or no. In any event, after one guess has been made there is only one alternative, and the pupil who answers second often deceives both the teacher and himself into thinking that he really knew the answer. The question which suggests an alternative is in effect the same as a direct question with its alternative answer of yes and no. “Does the earth turn on its axis from east to west or from west to east?” is no better than to ask, “Does the earth turn on its axis from west to east?” Indeed, the alternative question in the example given is worse than the direct form, since it suggests a wrong answer which may make sufficient impression to confuse the pupils when the question arises again.

The leading or suggestive question is much used by teachers who attempt to develop with children generalizations for which they have no basis in knowledge. It is perfectly possible to have children give some sort of expression to the most profound generalizations of science or philosophy, if one is only skillful in suggesting the answers which they are to give. As an example of this sort of questioning, the following is taken almost verbatim from a teacher who thought she was having her children think about the growth of plants. “Did you plant your flowers where the sun would shine on them? Do you think plants would grow in a very dark place? What do plants need to help them to grow? When the ground gets dry, what will you sprinkle on the ground to help the plants to grow? What do plants need besides light to make them grow? Would your plants grow if it was very cold? What do plants need besides light and moisture to make them grow?” If such a series of suggestive questions is asked, the responses will be prompt and the waving of hands most vigorous, but surely there has been very little necessity for thinking on the part of the children. This brings us to the crux of the whole problem. A question in order to be most stimulating must be of sufficient scope to demand that the experience of the children be organized anew with reference to the problem under consideration.

The teacher who wants to test the quality of her questions ought frequently to ask herself whether her questions are of sufficient scope. If all the children can answer every question asked immediately, the questions have not been very successful from the standpoint of provoking thought. It takes time to think. The question of large scope will be followed, not by a wild waving of hands, but rather by a period of quiet reflection. The teacher who was trying to have her pupils think about the conditions of plant growth should have asked one or two thought-provoking questions instead of the larger number of suggestive questions. She might have put the following questions: What have you known any one to do to get good, strong, healthy plants? Would it be possible to change any of these conditions and still have the best plants? What is necessary for the growth of plants? If questions similar to the above are asked, one might naturally expect children to relate and to compare experiences, in fact, to solve the problem by bringing to bear as best they could the facts concerning plant growth which had been observed in their experience. If the teacher wants the children to get some adequate idea of a mountain, in their work in home geography she might tell them about it or read them a description; but even after the best description she would want to question them in order to have them think about the facts which had been given. She might ask: How long do you think it would take a man to walk to the top of a mountain? What would be the difficulties in getting to the top? If you stood on the top and threw a stone, how far down the mountain do you think it would go?

To ask good questions takes careful thought and planning on the part of the teacher. A half dozen thoroughly good questions often make a recitation a most stimulating exercise in thinking, while the absence of this preparation on the part of the teacher not infrequently results in the ordinary listless class period, which may actually be harmful from the standpoint of the child’s intellectual growth. It would be well for every teacher to ask herself the following questions when she is dissatisfied with the results of her teaching: Were my questions clear and concise? Did they challenge the attention of all the members of the class? Did the children need to think, to organize their experience with reference to the problem in hand before they answered? Was the sequence good? Was it possible for every child to answer some of the questions? Did each child have a chance to answer? Did the children ask questions?—When children are active mentally, they will have questions to ask.

In asking questions much depends upon the novelty of the form in which the question is put or of the issue which is presented. The writer has enjoyed asking several groups of teachers why they teach. The answers have been most varied, and on the whole indicate the real attitude of these men and women toward their work. A very different response is secured, however, when you ask the same groups to define the aim of education. They will all profess that they hope to realize the aim of education in their teaching, and that it is because they hope to participate in the development of socially efficient men and women that they teach; always provided you have asked a question concerning the aim of education. The difference in the two situations is accounted for by the difference in the wording of the question. In the one case these teachers really asked themselves the question—why do I teach? They answered in terms of their experience. Some taught for money, some because it was a respectable calling, some for want of anything better to do, some because they liked children, and some because of their appreciation of the significance of education in our modern democratic society. In the other case, the answers were given in words conveying ideas which were supposed to be those most acceptable to the teacher.

It is often helpful to state the opposite of the common expression of a generalization and to suggest that you are willing to maintain this point of view. The best lesson that the writer ever conducted on induction and deduction was begun with the statement: “Induction always begins with a generalization and moves to the consideration of particulars. Deduction always begins with a particular and moves to a generalization.” The class was excited because the usual form of expression had been reversed, and, before the period was over, did some thinking about the commonly accepted definitions of induction and deduction. These definitions had really been nothing but a lot of words to juggle with, rather than the embodiment of clear ideas. This method of shock through the unfamiliar form of the question, or by means of a statement which challenges attention because it is seemingly contrary to the accepted formula, is one of the surest means available to the teacher who would stimulate thought.

It may be objected by some teacher that the form of question indicated above gives little or no place to the necessary reciting from books; that when one wants to discover whether the pupils have studied carefully the content of a text, the one way to be sure is to ask the fact question. In reply, it may be said that questions which call for the use or organization of facts demand not only the knowledge demanded by the fact question, but the more significant use of these data. It is true that some teachers still hear lessons. On the whole, there is too much telling of what the book says and too little teaching. The skillful teacher, in the assignment of her lesson, will give the children problems concerning which they can find information in their books. The recitation will demand the answer to the questions that have been put previously, as well as to such other questions as may be necessary in the development of these problems. If the book is to be given a larger place, the recitation may be topical. Here, again, the large topics which are assigned should demand not a repetition of the headings and paragraphs of the book, but rather the outline furnished by the teacher, or, better still, made by the class; should necessitate a reorganization of the material of the text. There is little use in trying to furnish children with the knowledge of an encyclopedia. They will forget all except that which has become part of a system or scheme of ideas which have meaning and significance because of their organization. It is true that facts are the raw material of thinking, and it is equally true that those facts which have had some place in our thinking are the ones which we retain for future use.

Aside from the form of the question, the teacher must consider the technique of questioning. One of the most common mistakes is to call on the bright children almost to the exclusion of the less capable. The writer has repeatedly followed closely the distribution of questions among the members of a class, only to discover that often from one fourth to two thirds of the class were not called upon at all, and that generally three fourths or more of the questions were addressed to a very small number of children. Most teachers would find it interesting to keep a record for a few days of the number of questions assigned to each child. Such a score would help to explain the lack of interest and backwardness of some pupils.

One hesitates to suggest that questions should not be given to the pupils in any regular order from the beginning to the end of the class by rows of seats or otherwise. Of course the teacher who does this notifies the members of the class that they need not be troubled about the work until their turn comes. Almost as bad, from the standpoint of maintaining the feeling of responsibility by the whole class, is the method of asking questions which prefixes the question with the name of the child who is to answer. When the teacher says, “George, will you summarize the points which have just been made,” John, Henry, Mary, Catherine, and all the rest realize that there is nothing for them to do. The teacher should rather announce her question, and then wait long enough for all to be active before calling on any one.

Another source of lack of attention is found in the question which is repeated. Children soon come to know whether they must listen when the question is first put, or whether they may wait until the second or third statement before they will be called upon. There is another weakness often shown in repeating questions, viz.: the question is varied in form, which, in some cases, leads to confusion in the minds of attentive pupils, or the different forms used enable the child to guess the answer which is desired. To repeat questions is to acknowledge either that the form in which it was first put was not good or that the children were not expected to attend to the first statement of the problem. Either alternative will be avoided by a thoughtful, well prepared teacher.

The besetting sin of most teachers is the practice of repeating the answers given by children. If the recitation is a place where children are to discuss their problems together, then every answer should be addressed to the whole class, not to the teacher. The teacher who repeats each answer cannot expect the children either to recite to the class or to pay attention to the one who is speaking. Here is another chance for an interesting experiment. Score one every time you repeat an answer, and then try to see how soon you can eliminate this bad habit. It is often helpful to stand or sit in some part of the room not directly in front of the class. The fact that the teacher is among the class, one of them at least in position in the room, will make it somewhat easier for children to talk to the whole group. This habit of repeating the answer really grows out of the feeling which so many teachers have that the function of questions is to test for facts, and that in the recitation the answer should be addressed to the teacher and given by her to the class so that all may be made aware of the correct answer. The position which has been maintained is that the main purpose of questioning is to stimulate thought. Even if questions were mainly useful as a means of testing for facts, it would still be unwise to repeat the answers.

Questioning by the teacher which does not lead to the asking of questions by pupils is unsatisfactory. If the children are thinking, really trying to solve the problem at issue, they will have questions of their own. If any single test were to be applied to the strength of the teacher’s questions, this would probably be best. Needless to say, the questions which children ask should, as a rule, be addressed to the class, or to some one member of the class, and not to the teacher. Some of the best lessons are those which end with children’s questions still unanswered, these problems furnishing the point of departure for the study which is to precede the next day’s work.

If any one thinks that questioning is a simple matter, one that deserves less consideration than has been given to it, let him sit down and write four or five good questions which might be used in teaching a first-grade lesson on the dog; a fifth-grade lesson on the Southern states; a seventh-grade lesson on making jelly; or a high school class on the law of gravity. The teacher who will get some one to write down for her the questions which she asks in a single recitation will be surprised both at the number (it will be almost unbelievably large) and the quality of the product.

There is nothing more searching than to attempt to write down beforehand the half dozen or more pivotal questions which are to be used in a recitation. When the attempt is made, any weakness in knowledge, in organization of subject matter, or in appreciation of the pupil’s point of view with relation to the material to be presented, will become apparent. There is no one thing that a teacher can do which will bring a greater reward in increased teaching power, than systematically to prepare questions for one or more recitations each day. If the writer could be sure that any group of teachers would try conscientiously to improve in the art of questioning, he would be just as sure that these same teachers would be rated by any impartial critic as superior to those who are willing to trust to inspiration in this most important part of the teacher’s work.