You are not a child. Stop acting like one. Raise your hand in class.
When a professor asks a question, don’t just hear the question. Hear a small voice say a little something more: “Raise your hand if you’re not an undisciplined child.” By raising your hand, you silently say, “I am an adult. I give respect to those who deserve it, and behave in a way that deserves respect.”
Hillsdale students learn old but useful things. One they should already know when they begin their studies here is to raise their hands when they wish to speak in class. A student attends college, presumably, to learn. That requires some rules, one of them being: the teacher rules class time; his authority deserves respect.
Respect it.
When you interrupt a teacher with comments or questions you declare that you are either immensely arrogant or pathetically oblivious. Of course, Hillsdale students rarely interrupt professors with interjections. Much more common, and nearly as rude, is the reckless rush to reply to a question without being called on.
Immediately replying to a teacher without being acknowledged first not only undercuts the professor’s authority but also completely disregards your peers. Don’t treat class as your own personal soapbox with a convenient collection of captive audience members. If you must rant, raise your hand and be called on. The professor can learn her lesson and never call on you again.
But, you know the right answers, you say? Congratulations, welcome to the other half of your class. Do not be so excited by your enlightenment that you disregard basic manners. Did your eagerness gets the best of you? A legitimate protest the first few times. Perhaps, however, after two months of classes you should learn some self-control. Mankind possesses a unique capability for self-mastery; please employ that gift.
Admittedly, raising your hand all the time can be hard. It is easy to become so wrapped up in class that you forget it is just that: a class, with other people. I do not have a perfect record. Sometimes my tongue escapes my mouth and my foot feels obligated to fill the void. It could have been avoided if I had raised my hand.
I try to respect my teachers and my peers, and so I raise my hand.
Join me.
