by Jeanne Briggs, '96
reprinted in its entirety from
University of Oregon

On the first day of a new class, I always check the syllabus to find out how much of my grade depends on oral participation. Receiving a grade for class participation has always been a great source of anxiety for me, since I am rarely the person in the class who speaks the most, and sometimes I am the person who speaks the least. I watch other students who speak often and I am frustrated by the knowledge that they are being rewarded for the quantity of their participation while I am being punished.

Recently I took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which revealed that I have a preference for an introverted learning style. The Myers-Briggs has a specific definition of introversion that is not necessarily the same as the common conception of it. According to the Myers-Briggs typology, introverted students tend to focus on internal thoughts, feelings, or impressions. They draw their energy from their inner experience, as opposed to extroverts who draw theirs from the outer world. (For a more thorough description, see Introduction to Type, found in the LTC.)

As I read the description, I found that I could relate to much of it. Introverted learners prefer to study alone with little noise or interruption. This explains why I can never get any work done in Sayles. Introverted learners also tend to participate less in class, since they prefer to process ideas by thinking to themselves rather than by speaking to others. Introverts tend to speak in class only when they have processed an idea, rehearsed it, and prepared themselves to offer their idea to the group. This suggests why my tendency is to listen to what others say in class, internally connect it to what I think about an idea, and only offer my own thoughts when I believe that I have thought them through entirely.

The difficulty with this style of learning is that it may not fit well with either traditional concepts of class discussion or traditional criteria for grading on oral participation.

The spontaneous nature of class discussion can be difficult for an introverted learner who needs time to process ideas before speaking them aloud. During a typical class discussion, I feel as though the conversation is going by at such a rapid pace that I am unable to formulate an idea quickly enough to interject it into the conversation. As I am formulating my idea and thinking it through, the topic of the discussion has changed. When I write down in papers what I would have said in class, my professors tell me that they wish I would say more in class, or that I should have said in class what I wrote in my paper.

If I offer my idea in class, however, I feel as though it is unconnected and makes no sense in the conversation. For this reason I often keep my ideas to myself. I sometimes end up speaking at the end of class, when I have fully processed all of the ideas that have been presented and therefore feel able to contribute my opinion, but by then it is usually too late.

The fact that class participation is often graded adds to my frustration. Sometimes professors try to encourage me to speak in class, but this usually increases my discomfort because I feel pressured to say something. Worse, if I make a comment that I haven't fully processed I feel as though I have said something unproductive. On the other hand, if I do not participate in the discussion, I expect that the professor will think I am not paying attention or have nothing to say. Inevitably, I leave the classroom wishing I had had a chance to say what was spinning inside my head, and I often finish a term thinking that I would have gotten an even higher grade if only I had spoken a little more frequently.

There are advantages to the introverted learning style, however. Listening to what other people are saying and internally processing their comments means that I am often able to summarize a discussion or articulate an aspect of it that has been left out. In the classroom setting, I am generally observing the dynamics of the discussion, and this can lead to interesting insights about the mechanics of the interaction. Since I generally speak in class only when I feel I have something articulate to say, my comments are often helpful in moving the discussion to a new place. One of the best compliments a professor ever gave me was when he said that although I didn't speak often in class, when I did speak I always said something meaningful. Unfortunately, these advantages often seem undervalued in the classroom.

My preference for an introverted learning style does not mean that I never speak in class or that I don't like to speak in class. I actually enjoy participating in a lively, thought-provoking discussion, as long as it is structured in a way that allows me to contribute.

The structuring of discussion so that both introverted and extroverted learners can contribute is a responsibility incumbent on both the professor and the student. Helpful strategies that professors can use for encouraging introverted learners to participate include presenting discussion questions ahead of time so that the introverted learner has an opportunity to prepare a response, incorporating student-led discussion in which students are asked to prepare questions and plan the structure of the discussion, and allowing time in the discussion for students to write down their thoughts or simply to process what has been said.

It is unlikely that merely grading for oral participation in class will force introverted learners to participate in discussion more often; instead, it is likely to result in feelings of frustration and failure when the introverted student believes that she/he is getting a lower grade for not participating enough. It is helpful for the professor to make clear at the outset that quality as well as quantity of participation will be graded and to outline the things that she/he looks for as indicators of quality.

Rather than try to find ways to encourage more participation from the students who are quiet, it is important for a professor to be careful that the contributions of introverts and extroverts are validated in similar ways so that introverts will feel drawn into the discussion and continue to contribute.

Similarly, extroverted learners need to respect the introverted learning style. This means recognizing that sometimes silence in a discussion is acceptable and even necessary. In the same way that introverted learners make the effort to participate in a discussion, extroverted learners must make the effort to refrain at times from participating just to fill the silence. Introverted learners need space in which to enter the conversation, and providing this space will encourage them to continue to make the effort to participate.

Beyond simply allowing space in the conversation, extroverted and introverted learners alike can develop an understanding of their learning styles as complementary rather than competing. While introverted learners listen to the discussion, seeking the underlying themes and articulating the 'skeleton' of the discussion, extroverted learners interrogate and explore issues and provide the 'flesh'. The comments provided by extroverts spur introverts toward insights, while the contributions of introverts help extroverts to summarize their ideas and know that their comments are constructive. Both introverts and extroverts must be patient with each other, since they need each other's learning styles to provide the diversity of a rich discussion.

It is vital for introverts not only to recognize their learning style preference (with its strengths and limitations) but to make their needs clear to the professor. Looking back on my classes, I recognize that there were many classes which would have been greatly improved for me had I simply mentioned to the professor that some of the techniques I've described would be helpful for me and for other students who share my learning style. Knowing one's learning style preferences and sharing that knowledge with others is an important but often overlooked aspect of the educational process.

by Megan Nightingale
reprinted in its entirety from
University of Oregon

This first thing you need to know about extroverts is that for us, learning is a shared experience. Things become real to us once they are talked about. Somehow, it's just not quite real enough to merely think about things--they must be shared. For most extroverts, it is this need to share that leads to a process which I'll call the unforgiving cycle.

Despite outward appearances, extroverts are generally the most insecure people at heart. Although this contradicts what society seems to teach (that the "go-getters" are the ones who "have it all together"), it makes sense once you look at the underlying motivations involved. As an extrovert, I get energy from people. Not merely get energy-- I love people and being around people. I need to be around people. This very need, however, is what provokes my insecurity. For while I love to be around people, their moods, opinions and actions are also very important to me. As I said, I get energy from people, but this energy can be positive or negative. Let me go into an example as to how this leads into an unforgiving cycle between my need to share learning and my reliance upon the reaction of those around me in gauging the impact or worth of my ideas.

I attend my English class, in which we have read a highly abstract piece about a certain type of literary theory. I didn't understand the work--not because the words or even the ideas were beyond my capacity, but because the entire article was written in the realm of thought and not the realm of experience. This, by the way, is a common problem for those of us who gather information by sensing. So, I walk into class feeling inadequate because although I did do the reading, I cannot begin a discussion on it because I have not yet understood it. I haven't understood it because I haven't heard it discussed, and I haven't myself had an opportunity to talk it out yet. Because I am an extrovert, most people in the class (including the professor) will expect me to be one of the first to speak. This expectation is created because I do generally talk a lot in class. However, what is sometimes forgotten is that I "warm up" as the class goes on--that is, at first I am unable to discuss the issue at hand because I draw energy and sometimes understanding from hearing what others say about it. What is remembered, then, is that fact that I talk a lot. What isn't noted is that I don't often talk at the beginning of class.

This is where I begin to feel some pressure. If the prof raises an opening question and is greeting with silence, she or he is more likely to turn to one of the extroverts for an opening opinion or response. Perhaps not even verbally, but if you look around the table, many eyes will turn to you, hoping for a response. This is the first instance of being trapped. While as an extrovert you have a need and desire to please others, you also have a learning style that profits more by discussion than by isolated thought. So, once the silence gets uncomfortably long, I feel a responsibility to speak up, despite the fact that I do not yet feel as though I understand what I am saying.

Here the unforgiving cycle continues. The professor may ask, for example, "What is this person's view of morality and how does that relate to Critic B's position?" I feel obligated to formulate and voice a response. However, this response is merely the first step in my thought process--a kind of "getting my toes wet" beginning. So, I respond even though I feel as though my response is at best inadequate (more frequently, stupid) and exposes my secret--the fact that I really don't understand what we are discussing. Now I'm nervous because I've thought out a statement that I'm not entirely sure I believe in to a question I don't understand.

What usually happens at this point is another extrovert responds to me, as my initial response has given them something to work from. They're likely to pick apart what I have said in an effort to begin their own process of understanding. Unfortunately, this compound my problem. I already feel as though my idea is stupid, and anything short of absolute agreement will reinforce that feeling. Add to this my high level of awareness as to what others in the class are thinking and feeling and you can see how my insecurity and nervousness rise. In addition, other extroverts intimidate me because I feel that they are, unlike myself, truly as comfortable and masterful as they appear, whereas I know just how inadequate I am.

At this point, the cycle comes full circle. As an extrovert, I take comfort in (you guessed it) extroversion. This means that at this point in the class I am likely to keep talking, both to try to defend my position so that no one will guess that I really don't understand this yet, and because I am nervous and my natural defense to nervousness is talking.

However, all the while I'm talking, I'm feeling more and more ridiculous because the attention of the class is of course on me, and I still don't yet have a firm grasp of the theory at hand because I'm the only one who's talked about it. Plus, since this act of talking is my learning process rather than an expression of previously thought-out ideas, I am all the while gauging the reactions of my classmates to try to see if my ideas make sense or, if they don't, where the flaws are so that I can explore them. This is where the famous killing comment comes from the professor: "I'd like to hear from some of the people who haven't said much today." What they're really saying is that they'd like you to shut the hell up so someone else can talk. The sad thing is, you want exactly the same thing to happen, but now you feel even more stupid because even the professor is sick of hearing you talk.

I think you can see how this cycle perpetuates itself. Generally, somewhere in he middle of the class, I will have a revelation in which I understand the question being asked and what my true response to it is. This usually comes in response to someone else's expression of an opinion or theory. Either they will say nearly exactly what I believe, and my opinion will come by fine-tuning the specifics, or they will say something I completely disagree with and will come to my own understanding thought the disagreement.

It's such an odd and lonely position. Others see you as very confident because you talk often. Actually, silence from an extrovert is often a good sign (unless, of course, they're asleep or dead) because it means that they are arriving at an idea of their own or have already formulated their idea and, either way, are feeling comfortable enough to not talk. Plus, there are likely to be only two or maybe three other real extroverts in he class. By the end of class, you feel like a bully because you have dominated discussion, like an idiot because the entire class was a workshop during half of which you presented half-baked ideas, and isolated because the very people who share your experience are the ones who most intimidate you, so you can't talk to them. So, on the way out of class what do you do? You ask a person in class whom you know fairly well (most likely an introvert), "Did I sound really stupid in class today?" At which point, said person is likely to get exasperated with you because of your undying self-centeredness. Plus, one simple "yes" will not be enough, because that question is just the beginning of yet another learning process. "Well, I mean, what did you think about my idea of Critic B's version of morality--was it clear? I thought it was really interesting, but then again . . ." As you begin to discuss the class discussion, the unforgiving cycle begins again.

Introverts and Extroverts at the University of Oregon explain their different approaches to learning in the classroom.

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