Speaking of Easy

This has been a hard semester. Not in a dramatic, everything-is-on-fire kind of way.

More in a quiet, persistent friction that’s been building week after week. The kind that makes you start questioning things you used to feel sure about.

I teach public speaking and argumentation. My classes are built around a simple belief: learning happens best in community. Students don’t just absorb content—they practice, respond, support each other, and grow together. Especially in courses where fear and vulnerability are part of the deal, that sense of community matters. So I design for it.

I give points for in-class activities. Sometimes just for showing up and participating. Sometimes for preparing and then participating. I try to make the classroom a place where something meaningful happens every day, and I reward students for being part of that. And for a long time, it’s worked. Students often say they feel comfortable in my class. They make connections. Sometimes even friendships. It’s one of my favorite parts of teaching.

But this semester, something feels off.

I have students who show up, but don’t really engage. They’re physically present, but not contributing. Not responding to peers. Not fully participating in the work of the class. And I can see the difference. More importantly, so can the students who are engaging.

I also have students who barely show up at all. They complete quizzes and assignments online, hover at the edge of passing, and then reappear when it’s time to give a speech. And those speeches? They’re often underprepared and uncomfortable. Not just for them, but for the audience. Because they’ve missed the part of the course that actually builds confidence: practicing in a supportive room over time.

None of this is entirely new. There have always been a few students like this. But now it feels like more than a few. And it’s making me ask some uncomfortable questions.

I’ve always thought of myself as a flexible, student-centered instructor. I accept late work. I try to account for the reality that students are balancing jobs, families, and responsibilities I may never fully see. I’ve been that student. Overwhelmed, stretched thin, making choices that didn’t always align with academic success. I still believe in that flexibility.

But I’m starting to see the downside of a system that doesn’t clearly distinguish between showing up and being present. When students can earn the same points for sitting quietly as they do for actively engaging, it sends a message, whether I intend it or not. And when students can pass a class largely without participating in the core learning experiences, it raises a bigger question: What, exactly, am I rewarding?

There’s also a ripple effect. The students who are prepared, who are willing to speak up, who want to engage feel it when others don’t. It changes the energy in the room. It makes activities harder to run well. It can even make participation feel less worthwhile. That’s not the kind of classroom community I want.

At the same time, I don’t want to swing so far in the other direction that I lose what matters most to me. I don’t want a rigid, high-penalty system that pushes students out or ignores the complexity of their lives. Retention matters. Access matters. But so does honesty. A course built around communication and community can’t function the same way if students opt out of the communication and the community.

So I’m in a space of recalibration. Not a full overhaul. Not a rejection of what I believe about teaching. But a closer look at how my policies and structures are actually playing out in practice. I’m starting to think more carefully about what participation really means and how to make it visible. About what parts of the learning experience can only happen in the room, and how to emphasize those. About how to be clear with students that this is, in fact, a participatory course and that there are other options if that’s not what they’re looking for.

Mostly, I’m trying to hold onto both sides of the tension: Students deserve understanding and flexibility. And learning requires showing up in more than just body. I don’t have a perfect answer yet. But I’m paying attention in a new way. And for now, that feels like the right place to start.