Does leave me with a bit of a predicament now so I’ll keep talking to the wall and wish I hadn’t prepared for this moment. Hopefully you’ll still be listening by the end.

Seems weird right, but this is potentially the way things could go if the news is correct. Teachers may be asked (ironically) to not pose questions to their classes due to the emotional turmoil and strain it can put on young people.

Entering the classroom as a freelancer

Over the past two years I’ve worked as the Education and Engagement Manager with Justice in Motion, delivering content in schools up and down the country around county lines, knife crime, and child exploitation to young people in Year 5 through Year 10. Both the presentation and workshops are there to engage, understand their level of expertise and experience, and build and develop on that. The feedback for our method has been phenomenal – in fact that word comes up a lot in testimonials.

What’s the secret sauce?

Well, it’s not really secret. It’s having trauma-informed practitioners delivering a programme based on collaboration and engagement.

From the very start of the day, we get students to join in by asking questions throughout the presentation, and the responses have sometimes been the same, and then there have been those that have surprised us and given our presenters cause to pause and reflect in the moment, as well as later on. What we find is if one person answers, many more hands will feel the confidence from their peers and be compelled to follow suit. And we’re not worried about whether they provide a correct answer or not, more that they provide AN answer.

The same is true for the workshops. We have a team that provides a creative, exploratory, educational programme allowing students to step outside of the normal constraints of a class and its curriculum, and again, is fully built on the idea that we’re all do-ers together. This is not about us presuming we’re mini Einsteins and imparting our skills and knowledge, but sharing information, and that can only come from open and honest conversations, and you’ve guessed it, questioning. Us questioning them, but also them questioning us.

Each of our workshops is different, but in my workshop alone, the first thing I do is ask for a volunteer. No context initially, just a volunteer. Let’s take my year 8 groups yesterday as an example. Nearly every hand shot up in response to that question. They didn’t know what they were signing up to, but they wanted to stand up and be seen, be helpful, be involved. All off the back of a question.

Those that didn’t raise their hand, I simply didn’t choose, but you could see they were still invested in the work from their body language. I also make the point with my questions to address the whole class. At one point I stand in the middle of the circle and turn constantly so that I can see them all at different times but so that we all feel a bit closer and as though I’m not simply lecturing from the front.

I’m not there to pick on an individual and make them feel uncomfortable, but I AM there to give nudges, for without questions, how else will they develop critical thinking, deeper understanding of the materials that are being offered, or develop their own thoughts on the matter?

More than this, these skills enhance communication, improve problem-solving abilities, and can boost confidence – Didn’t get something right? Well actually, by you answering, we’ve realised 10 others in the group feel the same…and we can do something about it.

Throughout the session, I throw out to the room questions, follow-ups, and opportunities for engagement that are more than ‘just listen to my voice’ because heck, I’d be bored of myself after 10 minutes of talking if that’s how I ran it, and I’m in for a whole day, sometimes more!

As a freelancer coming in, and having worked in schools before, as any educator or person in a similar position will know, you can very quickly identify the ones that will step up and answer every question, and the quieter ones who might struggle to answer even one, but does this really mean we should stop asking questions flat out?

How do we do a register because calling out the name with an upward inflection is a question, isn’t it? Are they present or not? Somebody trips over and cuts their knee open. Don’t ask if they’re OK because again that’s a question, or even at the simplest level, dare I ask every child that crosses the threshold ‘How are you today?’ because I might just hear an answer that allows me to offer help. Oh to have a connection first thing in the morning!

I realise I might be taking it to the extreme with my examples, but where does it end? Where’s the line?

If I didn’t ask questions in any of my sessions, I wouldn’t have got a single volunteer and the powerful opener wouldn’t have worked. Instead we’d be on the boring lesson plane preparing to land in flat city on dull island. If I then didn’t ask my follow up questions to the first activity, I couldn’t gauge within the first five minutes what their knowledge level is to help me pitch the content for the remaining 50 minutes. In one session yesterday, the floor had been opened from the beginning with the expectation of involvement and a co-collaboration that by the end of the session I actually had to chop my last activity out because questions were coming thick and fast, and they were more important than what I was going to get them to do.

They have voices, even the quiet ones. Let’s find a way to hear them!

The education pack that’s available to schools following our work was designed with questioning in mind. We don’t want all children to be silent copies of one another, their creativity squashed to zero, their confidence and voice on the carpet to be walked over.

This is why the pack contains solo activities, pair activities, group discussions, and even a debate. It’s an opportunity to not only learn in a variety of styles but for each individual to find the one that fits for them. The debating activity requires some role play and as the intro to the session says, ‘Not everyone has to play a role, but everyone should play a part’. What that looks like is different for each person but it could be that they step out of their usual comfort zone for the first time ever, especially if we ask ‘Fancy a go?’

I have to admit, having these open dialogues and questioning the children in my workshops has quite often meant I’ve learnt as much from them as they do from me, sometimes more.

This applies to the coaching room too

Coaching is built on questioning. If I didn’t question clients, most of mine being children and teens, I wouldn’t be able to find out what they really want to achieve, what they’re willing to do to get to that point, or how they’re feeling at each step.

If I didn’t question, I couldn’t coach. Not only would I not have any work, but children and families wouldn’t be helped.

That questioning and thinking through the answers together allows a deeper level of self-reflection and actualisation, and it is this that has allowed those that I’ve worked with to have big small and big breakthroughs, be that stepping back into the school system after weeks stuck at home, attending residentials, dealing with friendship issues, and building up their confidence and self-awareness of their emotional resilience, achievements, and abilities.

If I didn’t ask questions in coaching, I promise you, it would be the driest, dullest, most boring hour that any child could spend with me. Questioning gives them a voice to be heard, sometimes for the first time. Yes, there are some that take this opportunity to tell me everything about their lives, while others may only give one or two word answers, but in that space, they are provided the chance to build the sort of trusting relationship where they appreciate how powerful questioning their own thoughts and capabilities really is.

A question can land how it needs to if handled correctly.

I personally don’t believe the issue is questioning children as a blanket problem.

If we can’t question, how do we know they’re still actively engaged? How do we know they’re curious about the topic we’re discussing? How else are we reinforcing their individual talents and participation? How are we building them up to be reflective individuals, which is an important life skill?

• That egg wasn’t cooked all the way through? Got ill? What do we do differently next time?
• Didn’t have enough money in the shop? What do I need to do next time?
• Want to buy bed sheets for my first home and don’t know where to start? ‘Can I help you madam?’ – How the hell do I respond?
• I feel anxious about this situation. Oh. Well I’ve not learnt to question why that might be so it’s just me that’s the problem.
• And so on…

I fully appreciate and accept there are children that will struggle to answer questions thrown at them. Even as an adult I can struggle with this, but then it is down to the facilitator of the space, be that a teacher or otherwise, to get to know the people in the room. We come back to the trusting relationship. An adult who cares enough to get to know them and how they tick, alongside how best to engage with them.

In coaching, especially with children, it can sometimes take a few sessions to build a relationship where they feel they can question themselves and you as the coach. As a teacher or school staff member, I would hope you would spend the time (and I know it’s limited) to get to know your students well enough so that you can question each in the most appropriate way for them.

As somebody put on a related post ‘I trust teachers to know their classes’.

I used to be terrified of the prospect of needing to know 210 students in my year group. The reality was most didn’t come into my office or ever really meet me, but for the one occasion they might, it was up to me to work quickly with them to build that relationship in order that we could gauge together (even if this wasn’t verbalised) how far I could push the questioning with them. If I couldn’t ask ‘Is everything OK? Why are you here?’ I can’t help them and they can’t ask for the help they need. Stalemate.

Perhaps the issue isn’t about children feeling anxious about answering questions and us worrying about the fact they can’t or might struggle, and more about supporting them to understand how to manage any of these big feelings and emotions in order that they feel they can answer in the future, even if they do get the butterflies as they do it.

There’s a real art to questioning and being questioned of course. It’s a huge communication skill. By cutting out questioning in the classroom, are we not actually setting up our children for greater failure in the future?

If they can’t ask or answer questions, how will they succeed in job interviews? What about working in what are often early careers in areas like retail and hospitality, where they need to speak to customers? What about if they wish to travel and need directions, but can’t hold that conversation?

And does this non-questioning stop at the classroom or will it expand to extra-curricular activities, after-school clubs, and voluntary organisations? I used to run Young Leaders and DofE training. If I still did this, would I not be able to ask questions that test their skill and knowledge level? Would I not be able to gently suggest ‘I hear your answer, but do you think there’s a better way?’

Soon we could make a whole generation of silent, insular children, who are terrified of questioning or being questioned. A generation of young people who actually have fantastic brains, ideas, and opportunities that could change the course of our world for the better but fall silent because they’re too scared to deal with questions because nobody taught them the skills to regulate enough to do so.

And before anybody starts on me, I appreciate neurodivergence, learning needs, and disabilities come into play, but I’ve also worked with children who fall into each of these categories who can be some of the most eloquent questioners and answerers known.

This topic opens a can of worms and provides more questions than it seems anyone is now allowed to ask. I’ve certainly done so in this post, but here’s my last…

Should we really stop questioning in the classroom?

Sorry, shouldn’t have asked that!