The Art of Asking Good Questions

You are sitting in class listening to a discussion. Perhaps you do not entirely agree. You see the matter from a different angle, have an experience that adds nuance to the picture, or wonder whether what was just said is actually true. You consider raising your hand, but let it pass. 

Perhaps you think that someone else will say it, or that your question is not good enough. Perhaps you feel you need to think a bit more before you dare to speak up, or that it is just easier to stay quiet. This would typically be a case where everyone in the room misses something important: your contribution. Let me explain with an experience that made all the difference for me:

Contagious participation

When I started secondary school, I was with many new pupils. I was never shy or afraid to speak up, but at the beginning I was probably a little more cautious because I was testing the waters. My older brother had told me about the maths teacher I would have. She was someone who cared, but was also very direct. A little more than one might perhaps appreciate. I remember well when I saw her in action for the first time: I perceived her as kind, but very strict. The first message to the class was: “If you do not ask questions, you will have gaps in important understanding, and eventually you will fall behind.” It was scary! She was so serious that I thought: “I should pay close attention here and say as little as possible.” 

Yes, you may be thinking the same as me: she most likely achieved the opposite of what she intended to convey. In the first few weeks, maths suddenly became a little harder than before. I often sat there with questions I did not dare to ask. 

Then something painful and difficult happened, but I think it saved my academic journey and development for good: the teacher went on leave, and we got a new maths teacher. In addition, we were split into smaller groups across classes. I did not like this at all. I had just found my comfort zone and was seeking security. Dealing with new people felt especially arduous. 

The new maths teacher was more of a mate than a teacher. He made mistakes on the board and we laughed a bit about it. Among the new pupils in the class there were especially two boys who questioned most things, and sometimes they expressed disagreement with how the teacher solved the calculation. I had never experienced such a discussion before, and the teacher stimulated the conversation instead of pretending he was all-knowing. It was not many weeks before I took part myself. It was contagious and it was fun. I took pride in not understanding something, and then having it explained by the others in the room, often by a fellow student. Best of all was that this way of learning spread to other subjects and continued in the following years. 

When I started at university, it nearly went wrong again. I knew only a very few people, and I ended up in the library with a completely different kind of books from the ones I was used to. In the first few weeks I often fell asleep with my head in the book. I quickly learned that the traditional way of learning was more demanding than I had expected. Fortunately, I was again saved by the course leader organising us into study groups. Again, I must admit that I shuddered at the exercise. Must I really be social? Today it's almost a little strange to look back, but I admit that it had a cost. In the group, I was confronted with the fact that I had not done the homework. I was challenged on my opinions and perceptions. They revealed that I did not understand the methods, but at the same time explained how it was to be done. Little by little I changed my whole approach to the subject. I chose to share, do exercises (even though it took time and effort), ask questions and disagree. It was especially disagreeing that eventually became particularly rewarding. Even formulas and calculations could be solved in different ways. Just imagine numbers creating discussion in that way. I thought there was only one right answer, but that was not the case. Here I discovered a completely new world. 

You help create the teaching 

At a university, much learning is created in the meeting between people. We learn when someone asks a question that makes us stop and think. When an argument is challenged. When a fellow student shares a perspective we had not thought of. And sometimes when someone dares to say: “I see this differently.” You do not need to have the perfect question or the finished answer. The most important thing may be that you contribute. Your voice alone can make the teaching better, including for others. 

To those of us who teach: good teaching develops through the interaction between those who take part. The lecturer brings subject knowledge, research, experience and questions. The students bring their own knowledge, experiences, perspectives and ways of understanding the world. When these meet, something new can emerge, perhaps especially when we share experiences. In sales, it is said that “the one who speaks least influences most” (Rackham, N. 2020. SPIN®-selling. Taylor & Francis). This is an important signal to the person facilitating. A prerequisite for effective education seems to be linked to creating dialogue. This science is about asking questions. Good questions do a great deal that is important for everyone in the room.

A question from precisely you can prompt the lecturer to explain something in a different way. An experience or story can make the theory more concrete. An objection can highlight an aspect of the matter that has so far received little attention. A good argument can lead others in the room to examine their own assumptions. This is a very important part of studying at a university. 

In a sense we are all students, and when we students take part, the lecturer also gains more information about what is being thought in the room. What is difficult to understand? What arouses interest? Where does disagreement exist? Which perspectives are missing? In this way everyone’s contribution can help shape how an academic conversation develops. 

Participating therefore means more than your own learning. Every time you ask a good question, share a relevant experience, challenge an argument or build on someone else’s idea, you add something. You help make the teaching better. Some have even claimed that “it is what you yourself said that you remember best.”

Help make the teaching better 

Next time you are in class and have a thought, a question or see the matter a little differently, try to put it into words. 

Ask the question. Share an experience or story. Give reasons for your view. Build on a good point from a fellow student. Ask someone you disagree with why they think the way they do. Listen to the answer. 

You are part of this community, and you will learn more if you take part. The positive side effect is that it will also help the others in the room.