In one of my classes this morning, I caught one student repeatedly turning to another and talking. I couldn't tell what they were talking about -- the weekend? the weather? or was it related to my discussion point? -- but I interrupted anyway, as I usually do, to remind the student that if they're going to speak, they should speak to the whole class.

It turned out she was answering questions that the woman beside her had asked about some terminology I was using.

I thanked her for helping, but suggested that the student could have just as easily raised her hand and asked me to clarify.

I notice this sort of sideline commentary behavior a lot. Not because I'm using strange jargon, but -- I'd speculate -- because college students often are either "too polite" to interrupt the lecture, or "too embarrassed" to expose their lack of understanding to their classmates. But what they don't realize is that there's a degree to which such sideline comments not only interrupt the focus of the conversation with distracting sounds (people turn to see what they're talking about, etc.), but that it also takes TWO students away from the focus rather than just one. I'm pretty hard-headed about this -- if I'm pursuing an idea, I want to make sure that everyone stays with me, and I also want to make sure that everyone understands it. Sometimes one student might misinform the other.

But there is something else lurking behind today's event. Our class has had a series of open class discussions -- several, in fact, led by student presentations -- so the students in question may not have realized that I thought I was lecturing. There was a shift in mode from student-centered to teacher-centered delivery that I assumed was obvious, but it wasn't as self-evident as I'd assumed. I neglected to "signpost" that I was going to take center stage.

I've been reflecting on my approach to the lecture and the ways in which I try to retain focus on the ideas while at the same time keeping the conversation open for dialogue, dissent, exploration and other forms of interactive discourse with the students. My lecturing style is very porous; I expect interruptions and sideline discussions. And I will ask questions that aren't only hypotheticals, but also solicit answers to them. And I will always try to get students to argue with me or test examples that I toss out -- often playing devil's advocate -- primarily in order to catalyze active learning and critical thinking rather than the rote taking of notes.

This often takes a lot of energy and concentration. In his weblog, my colleague Dennis Jerz speculates about the relative energy it takes to lecture about literature (versus leading a discussion of a text)...a lesson culled from an experience of teaching a class while feeling under the weather. His contention is that it requires less energy to lecture than to facilitate a discussion -- and this puzzled me, because I didn't see how they were really so different. An hour's worth of teaching is an hour's worth of teaching, no? But then I realized what he was raising an inquiry into the performative activity of the teacher and the amount of energy it takes to pull off a successful performance. One way to think of the lecture, in conventional terms, is that lecturing is to running discussion as monologue is to dialogue. Jerz's revelation is that dialogue can be tougher than monologue, even though the "weight" of the conversation is ostensibly evenly distributed in a discussion. Monologues can be prepared and don't require much "off the cuff" processing even if the onus of the communication is on the teacher, whereas a dialogue requires spontaneity, impassioned interest, quick thinking on the feet, and a vim for interpersonal exchange.

Understandably, when a teacher is ill, as Jerz was, it's hard to drum up that vim. Personally, if I'm really ill, I'll quickly move some of the "work" into group tasks to give myself a little recuperative break. The students usually are understanding in this regard.

But I'm still trying to figure out if I, personally, would feel any difference in the energy required to run a discussion as opposed to a lecture. I tend to approach virtually all of my lectures as a form of dialogue to begin with, even when addressing a large crowd in a formal setting. Perhaps this is because I teach English courses, where interpretation of a text is usually open to dispute, and where I solicit multiple viewpoints in order to enhance collaborative learning. Or maybe I do this because I fear boring an audience. But if pushed to define the difference in my own methods, I would probably say that I define a discussion as student-centered process of discovery from the bottom-up, whereas a lecture is a content-centered discussion of material the teacher delivers from the top-down. From my view, neither is a monologue. What I'm saying is that, pedagogically, both are interactive processes, with different levels of "call and response" activity and numerous dialogic demands that attempt to reach people with different learning intelligences (such as visual, auditory, etc.). So even when I prepare what might amount to a "speech" to present to the class, I think of my lectures as open discussions to some degree. If they're not, I see students eyes get droopy, and it troubles me. So I try to keep them on their toes. I may be authoritative, but I will often declaim being the sole authority, citing not only the sources I'm drawing on but also student work from the past or student comments in the now.

Let's call this approach the "permeable lecture": one that is pre-organized to cover certain information that the teacher knows is essential to deliver, but which is at the same time open to interruption, dialogue, debate, questions, and micro-conversations. Order that makes room for chaos. The teacher is still center-stage, but the students are solicited to participate as fully as possible; it is not only the expectation that they remain attentive listeners, but that they also genuinely prove it. I suspect all teachers are open to interactive discussion, but I bet such interactivity is usually reserved for Q&A time after the lecture is over. However, there's always a degree to which lecturing can be receptive to discussion during its delivery, and it can even foment a collaborative process of "working" the ideas together in a decentered way.

Although the techniques that follow are probably nothing new to you, here are some strategies I personally use to try to keep my lectures permeable (if possible -- granted, not all content should be open to dispute or philosophical musing, but it's preferable to groom interest in the audience, rather than ignore disinterest). The trick to the "permeable" lecture is to keep the potential for chaos, diversions, and other interruptions at a minimum, while still keeping the conversation "on task":

• I'll put an outline of my lecture on the board, usually before class begins, and leave it there for the entire hour. This keeps us all on track. Maybe just three bullet points is enough. Students will usually write these down, and then fill in notes during the discussion. I might model this by also taking notes and putting the key words or concepts that I would expect them to know (for, say, a test) on the board, as well. If we don't get to the latter points on the board, this is a visible reminder that the lecture isn't over yet, and we'll get to it next time. Or I'll think on my feet and generate an assignment about those points for homework.
  
• Alternatively, I'll prepare an overhead that uses questions rather than "talking points" and ask audience to answer the questions. This method generates lots of interest. Then, after the answers have been exhausted, I'll reveal parts of the overhead that I've covered up which have my prepared answers on them. If there are any subpoints that haven't been addressed yet, I'll give a mini-lecture on those. Having the overhead shows that my lecture is prepared, but also open to student contributions to the issues that the questions raise. Sometimes I'll write their answers on the overhead alongside my own. [Alternatively, I've used handouts of outlines with very large blank spaces or columns to invite students to put their notes in the margins or fill out the form as I lecture.]
  
• I will physically point at the bullet points on the board and use "tugging" hand gestures to remind students to draw the connections between their points and mine. The idea is to keep coming back to the lecture, keep on track, allow the rest of the class to keep focused on the issue at hand.
  
• I try to remember to ask for questions routinely after each main idea that I have to communicate, not just at the end of the hour. But I also will pause midway through a "talking point" to raise my own questions. This approach does not just espouse the Socratic method. I'll actually call on students who might seem to be drifting off and see what they think about what I'm saying, as I'm saying it. If they've been daydreaming, I'll even give them the chance to recalibrate their attentiveness by restating a point I've just made, but I still demand that they answer the question. I want them to test my ideas, to think of them as claims or hypotheses rather than simply authoritative truth passed down from the oracle. The burden of teaching is on me, but the burden of learning is always on them.
  
• Naturally, knowing you could be called on at any time to answer a question can keep you attentive. But some students get caught off guard or, otherwise, genuinely aren't sure how to respond. My students are perfectly free to say "I don't know," and I'll assume that I haven't worded my question well, so I'll rephrase it and give them a second chance. Or I'll ask if others do know and wait for the hands to pop up.
  
• If someone blurts out something highly irrelevant, I either ignore it, laugh it aside (if it's a wisecrack), or, in a humorous way, actually say "irrelevant!" using a faux European accent. If it's a joke that tries to disrupt the class, I might start asking that student hard questions, maybe even work with the material of the joke itself, if I can directly push the student to connect it to the content of my lecture.
  
• I will use student names in hypothetical examples or imaginary test cases. ("Let's say Charlie is on a dinner date with Jane...... is it sexist for Charlie to pay the check without asking if she'd like to split it?"). I'll also often use second person plural to discuss topics, while making direct eye contact with student after student. ("When you pay for the check, what are you communicating about gender relations? When you let the other person pay, what are you assenting to, passively?"). Then I'll pause. Sometimes students will think I've asked a direct question rather than a hypothetical. That's okay. That means they're actually playing out the line of thought. If they answer the hypothetical example in a "real" way, I'll work with them on their turns, but get back to the point at hand as soon as I'm able.
  
• If students raise their hands while I'm speaking, I will call on them. If I have to get through my point and can't sacrifice the time to enter into dialogue, I will either ask them to "hold that thought" for later, or give a subtle, "I see you but we don't have time for it," non-verbal gesture (perhaps a subtle head shake or a hand signal that signs "put it down"). When I finish my point, I'll ask "Did that answer your question, Horatio?"
  
• I pay attention to student habits in my classroom. If a student has always been argumentative about every point raised in previous discussions, or if their comments are often superficial or ego-centric, I will be less likely to invite his or her comments during a lecture; if a student rarely volunteers a conversation point but they want to do so during lecture, I'll leap at the chance to get them to participate.
  
• In a class that is usually discussion oriented and highly student-centered, students sometimes are slow to recognize that I'm lecturing, not facilitating open conversation. So I use subtle non-verbal claims for "the floor" when lecturing, so that students know that this isn't a WIDE open discussion. I might dress more formally, use the podium more stiffly, adopt all the cues of the presentational mode of speech delivery. Sometimes I'll use direct "recentering" language like "listen up" or "okay, let's begin."
  

These techniques don't always come into play at once. The circumstance determines the approach. But I do try to keep the class student-oriented, even when it is teacher-centered. Although some lectures demand less permeability than others, I often prefer the open lecture style to the closed lecture style -- because the more invested I am in my listener's attentiveness, the more they're invested in the topic at hand. Plus it gives me a way to gauge their level of knowledge about the topic at hand and adjust to take it up or down a notch, or, for instance, to apply a different element of Bloom's taxonomy to the matter at hand.

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