“I’m confused,” a student says to the teacher. In his book Linguistic Communication and Speech Acts, Kent Bach writes: "almost any speech act is really the performance of several acts at once, distinguished by different aspects of the speaker's intention: there is the act of saying something, what one does in saying it, such as requesting or promising, and how one is trying to affect one's audience.” “I’m confused,” is usually delivered, more or less, as whining on several musical notes: “I’m conf-you—oo—zd.” First, the speech act is a complaint: “You confused me.” Second, because it is a passive construction—you did this to me—it asserts that the speaker is a victim: “I’m helpless.” It is fundamentally a relinquishing of power. “I’m confused” makes the teacher a perpetra (i)tor of the confusion, not sufficiently thinking it through for the student’s easy “getting.” In all, it is often a passive-aggressive confrontation. Since it is a blaming expression, working on the teacher’s guilt—it creates a sense of helplessness in the teacher, as well. Stalemate.
“I’m confused” implies do
it for me—it is a demand. Birds, and apes, such as gorillas, orangutans, and chimpanzees premasticate—pre-chew
and partially digest—food to kiss-feed
their young. Of course, it is the joy of
teaching to predigest material for students—to provide focus, illustrations, experiences,
inspiration, and tools to their students.
But, too often, in this world of pre-digested, immediately gratifying,
spectator internet offerings, teachers are under pressure to spoon-feed do-it-all
for students—mind read, thoroughly map the students’ thinking, and anticipate
any concerns for the student. Hence the choruses of “I’m conf-you—oo—zd”
ringing through classroom buildings.
To remove the blame/guilt speech act of “I’m
confused,” and turn it to an opportunity for mutual discovery and invention,
let’s unpack the word “confused,” itself.
The word “confuse” derives from earlier words meaning “to ruin,” “to
mingle together,” and “to confound”—to intentionally perplex, defeat, or mix
up. Only in a horror film would a
teacher intentionally perplex, defeat, mix up, confuse, or mingle together
ideas so as to confound students. And
yet all those textures of meaning are embodied in “I’m confused.”
The other day, my class and I were looking at our
Shakespeare Survey syllabus. One of my
students, I’ll call him “Peter,” said, “I’m confused” as to when papers were
due. I felt that twinge in the chest that comes with the speech act
implications of the expression. What had
happened was that I had made an error in identifying the dates of spring
recess. He was not confused, in the
least. He had thoughtfully caught an
error, for which we were all grateful.
How to circumvent this unfortunate, if only
momentarily corrosive, clichéd expression between student and teacher? Whenever a student sings out “I’m confused,”
I say, “No. You’re not a victim, and I’m not a perpetra(i)tor. What’s your question?” My speech act implies “You are thinking for
yourself. Let’s have your insight.” Peter asked the question, “When are our
papers due?” He pointed out that there
was an error on the syllabus. It was a
moment of empowerment for us all.
Whenever you feel the urge to say “I’m
confused,” stop. Activate your own mind.
Ask yourself, “What is my question?”
Sorting out and specifically articulating what you know and need to
know, will help both you and your teacher discover the wonder(ing) of your
mind.
Work Cited
Bach, Kent. Linguistic Communication and Speech Acts. Boston:
MIT Press, 1979.
