Close the Computer, Open the Dialogue

We’ve all been there. You’re sitting in class, and someone in front of you is watching the soccer game on his computer or browsing New York Times headlines. Despite your best efforts to focus on the professor, you find your eyes drift as you wonder about the New Jersey Senate race or why Paul Krugman used the word “hipster” in a headline.

Some professors know this phenomenon, too, with more and more deciding to ban computers in the classroom. The rationale is that students hurt not only themselves, but also those around them who are distracted by their computer screens while in class. Choosing to browse BuzzFeed instead of paying attention in class may be a personal decision, but this apathy is contagious, spreading from one student to others. By disengaging in class or in the community, you not only deny yourself the opportunity to find your voice, but you are denying others the opportunity to be exposed to new ideas.

Of course, this is not a one-sided contract. Professors should create dynamic engaging discussions in class, taking advantage of that small average class size about which tour guides love to brag. They should draw current events, both on campus and in the world, into the classroom to push us to apply our education to our surroundings. In any given class, the student make-up provides a perfect forum to discuss timely issues.

We use our small size as an excuse to maintain “civility.” But sometimes this “civility” is no more than passivity, a fear of engaging wholly and passionately with the issues that matter to us most because we might have to share a Panini press the next day with those with whom we disagree. At Middlebury, we pride ourselves on our diversity of opinions, and yet, when we are given a platform to hold an open discourse and present these opinions, we choose instead to hide behind our computer screens or congregate in small factions to feed like mindsets instead of engaging others because it is safe and easy. But that is nothing more than cowardice masquerading as politeness. We must not back down.

This is not to say that we should engage in ad hominem-like arguments; we are fighting issues, not each other. Being a great debater is like being a great athlete. An athlete must be able to withstand the throes of battle within his or her arena – giving all and sacrificing none – but when the final whistle blows, you drop all the hard feelings pent up during the heat of battle, shake your opponents’ hand and move on. Any unsportsmanlike conduct is childish and detrimental to the participants as well as to the integrity of the game itself. Middlebury is our arena. Debate of important issues is our sport, not a bloodsport, but a gentleman’s game. It is a disservice to all, participants and spectators alike, not only if we break the code of sportsmanship, but also if we do not perform to the fullest of our capabilities. We can maintain the “air of civility and respect” that President Leibowitz called for in his letter when discussing the Sept. 11 incident while still bringing our passions and intensity into play. So tear down that wall that exists between you and your peers and push to expand beyond ideologically similar friends. This challenge can become one of the biggest benefits of a small, liberal arts college.This requires being proactive. Sit next to someone new in class and engage with them. Close your computer and be present. Stop writing on Middlebury Confessional and go talk to your Proctor crush. In a world of online engagement, it is easy to be passive in person and emboldened online. Nevertheless, embracing the discomfort of an in-person debate ultimately makes us stronger as individuals and as a community.