No Exceptions

I was teaching Fearless Writing at this year’s Willamette Writer’s Conference, and it was more challenging than I’d expected. Like all conferences right now, this one was virtual. I’ve actually been teaching classes virtually for a few years, so I was familiar with the unique dynamic of an online classroom, how everyone is in a kind of pod, and there is not the immediate, kinetic sense of connection that comes from a physical classroom.

However, it had been my practice to allow the students to leave their microphones un-muted as I taught. I liked hearing all the little noises they made, liked hearing when they laughed, or said, “Uh-huh,” or, “Oh.” If I couldn’t make true eye contact, if I couldn’t feel the quality of their attention, at least I could use that one remaining sense as a thread running between us all I could hold onto.

I have only recently learned that it’s common courtesy to mute your mic in any Zoom meeting when you’re not talking. Such was the protocol at the conference, and I quickly found the stone silence while I taught distracting. I felt like I couldn’t tell if I was really reaching anyone, couldn’t feel that spark of excitement or understanding from the students. By the end of the class, I was nearly hoarse. Like a comedian who relies on cursing to get laughs, my voice got louder and louder the more disconnected I felt.

I complained to my wife that night: It’s hard to teach into the silence; I miss the electricity of the classroom; on and on. Even before she started suggesting I learn how to use the quiet as a means of going more deeply into the teaching, I heard how disingenuous I sounded. No matter how emphatically I believe I want things the way they used to be, it’s never true. Wherever I am is where I must need and want to be, whether I understand it or not. I have long resisted this truth, certain there must be some exceptions, but I am yet to encounter one.

The next day’s class went much better, though it was just as quiet. The connection I wanted I found within myself, and without having to shout. The next time I’m in a physical classroom, I thought, it’ll be that much easier to stay grounded in the teaching rather than the performative thrill of being in front of live students. Though when that will be, and where that will be, and how that will be I don’t know, nor do I need to. There is always plenty to learn and do right now.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com