Eva’s Apple #3: Speaking up in class
Eva Jaber ‘28 (she/her) is a prospective English or international relations major. She is a member of the Cleftomaniacs, an a cappella group, an ESL tutor, and hopes to encourage peace-minded advocacy on campus. Contact her at ehjaber@wm.edu.
Welcome to our Eva’s Apple of the week. I’m going to get a bit existential for a second here, so stay with me. In a philosophy class I’m taking this semester, I recently learned about virtue ethics. The TL;DR is that we should perceive wrongness and rightness based on what course of action a virtuous figure would take if they were in the same situation.
Now, I understand that my column is a escapist medium for many of my readers, and I realize you may be upset by the fact that I am tainting your favorite part of your bimonthly reading routine with talk about classes. Grow up. I am giving you context for the punchline.
Okie, back to virtue ethics. You, dear reader, are lucky because you have a whole swath of virtuous candidates for whom you can ask “what would ____ do?” I bet you can think of just about a bajillion people who are better than you are. Now, and let’s practice our empathy for a moment, imagine a world in which you are me, the virtuous figure that others look to for guidance. Imagine you run a very prestigious satire advice column with a loyal base of fans who only act ethically on two Wednesdays a month when they have you basically spelling out for them everything they have to do to be more like you. This is my reality, my unfortunate reality. I am a pillar of virtue in a sea of misdeeds. I am to our campus, nay, our world, what “Love is Blind Habibi” is to Netflix.
So, you can imagine how uncomfortable I was in my philosophy class when we were asked to discuss virtue ethics. I didn’t know how to speak up. I felt unseen and alone, because no one else knows what it’s like to be their own moral standard, to have no one better than oneself to look up to. Here I am, dismounting from my well-deserved high horse, to exemplify imperfection and vulnerability. Together, we stand on our common ground: everyone, at some time or another, has had difficulties with participating in class.
Thus, I present you with our question of the week:
How do I feel more confident with speaking up in class discussions?
This question boils down to one important theme: confidence. I have it. You lack it. Let’s get to work.
In class, confidence levels exhibited by the student body exist on a continuum. The spectrum ranges from no confidence to way too much, and we all fall somewhere in between. On the 1-10 scale of confidence, I seek to maintain an ideal seven and a half. We seven and a halves exude just enough confidence to seem self-assured while having enough of a growth mindset to recognize the value in learning from others, listening to new perspectives and admitting when we are wrong. In the spirit of being on theme, I have seven and a half pieces of advice for you to achieve the ideal level of confidence and become a perfect participant in class.
1) People like to say that comparison is the thief of joy. It’s not. Jealousy is a compass, and you can harness it to achieve maximum coolness. If you are jealous of someone, that means they have something you want. Getting clarity about your ambitions will allow you to imitate those you envy until you are more fulfilled and, thus, more confident. In order to continue setting goals, you must have an infinite supply of jealousy to guide you. The solution: ceaseless comparison. Boom. Next suggestion.
2) Dress for the part! Find the swaggiest person you can think of, pretend every class is Halloween, and make every costume them. It’s a little weird that you’re cosplaying me, but I don’t hate it.
3) Surround yourself with worthy and interesting friends to help encourage you to be your best self in class. Not sure how to determine who matches this description? Here’s an easy test: ask them if they read “Eva’s Apple.” If the answer is no, cut them out. Drop them. Not worth it.
4) Raise your hand in class and wave it around to get the professor’s attention. If that doesn’t work, shout “me, me, me, pick me!” People love that.
5) Make up your own secret language and compile it into a comprehensive dictionary. Take it to your professor during office hours and cry until they agree to learn it. In class, only participate in discussions using your secret language. Then, no one else will be able to interpret what you’re saying and you’ll feel very smart.
6) Yell everything. You’ll sound passionate.
7) Whisper everything. You’ll sound mysterious.
7.5) I’m not really sure how to give half a piece of advice, but I’ll give it my best shot (observe this charming example of an appropriate confidence deficit). This is my most valuable advice in the entire article, and I’ve halved it by removing every consonant: “eiee i oue. ou eeie i ai, a ou oe ae aue! e oe ou o o ae ou oie ea, e oe ooae ou i e aiiai i ouie, ouu ioue!” Hope this helps!
Alrighty. If you find yourself asking “What would Eva do?” at any point this week, send that situation to The Flat Hat so we can practice some virtue ethics with certainty. And ask it with confidence, please, now that I’ve told you exactly how to do so.
