Talking in Circles
by
Paul Wilson

Each student participates actively in every discussion in my seminars. This is not accomplished by bribery, threats, or magic, but by our "talking circle" discussion format.

The format is simple:

• The professor articulates a question for discussion.
• Discussion proceeds around the room, with one person speaking at a time (the professor included) until each has had a turn.
• All participants listen respectfully.

While it is not essential, some semblance of a circular seating arrangement helps.

There are some additional implicit rules, which can be stated if the need arises. Law students (uncomfortable with the process) frequently ask for more "rules" in the first session. I usually suggest we try it first and clarify if we need to. We seldom need to, and the "rules" evolve out of the group's behavior rather than my having to lay them down. If I'm particularly interested in teaching about process, I may try to restate the unspoken rules which have evolved, but usually I do not. Typically, these "rules" include:

If participants are sufficiently moved to break the circle by interrupting other speakers (either to ask clarifying questions or to interject comments), they may do so, and it is particularly worth listening to them because of the intensity of their need; when they are done, discussion reverts to the original speaker and thence to the next around the circle in order.

• If you don't have anything additional to say, you can affirm an earlier idea or "pass."
• It is not particularly helpful to repeat what somebody else has already said, except to note agreement or disagreement.
• It is frequently pertinent to have a second round, or even third round, of comments, and participants can begin or request them as they are moved. Part of my job as the teacher is to decide when further discussion is useful and when to ask a new question.

I begin each session with a quick round of short responses to a simple "grounding" question: "What has you most pressured right now?", "Where did you find parking today?", or "What would you be doing if you skipped class today?" I start promptly, and these take the place of the usual pre-class chit-chat while waiting for one more person. This gets strange looks in the first class session, but people catch on and it starts to feel less like group therapy.

This grounding is important. Each time, the circle and the notion of listening respectfully to each other are reintroduced experientially. Once listening is established in the room, it remains. Using the circle allows each person's voice to occupy the room, establishing a kind of territory. Participants find it easier to speak when others listen respectfully. The lack of immediate challenge (otherwise so prevalent in our lawyerly lives) helps to allay the fears of the apprehensive.

I do vary the format, sometimes giving a mini-lecture when there is a problem with material or a particularly complex setting. I sometimes jump to the board to record in tangible form a particularly productive or interesting line of discussion as it goes around.

There are several direct effects. Everybody talks. Participants pay attention. Thoughts are carefully marshaled. Contributions are concise, to the point, and mostly nonrepetitive. Ideas evolve and develop as the discussion moves around the room. Discussion tends to focus on understanding differences, stating alternatives, and constructing solutions, rather than attacking positions.

This approach appeals to me because it sets me in a particular role. I have knowledge and experience; I do not have "the answers." I am responsible for structuring a productive learning experience, for directing the discussion, and for seeing that some central questions are considered. Class is not a game; it is people working together to understand complex problems.

The format also conveys some important messages to students. They have knowledge and experience that they can apply to the problem at hand. What they say is intrinsically worthwhile. What their colleagues say is worth listening to. If they are not prepared and thoughtful, they will feel absurd. They can contemporaneously be learners and doers. Their analyses and insights are not the only possible ones. They can synthesize their ideas with other people's ideas and learn and grow in the process.

Students like it. While they are initially uncomfortable, they quickly adapt and have requested a return to the format when I depart from it. The biggest hurdle in getting used to the format is not running off at the mouth, but rather freezing up when others actually listen. The careful attention speakers get, and the respect and trust it implies, usually gives nervous speakers the strength to continue; and subsequent speakers somehow know when it is helpful to appreciate another's insight.

I like it, too. It renews my faith in human nature and the potential of lawyers. I get to teach by doing: articulating an analytical approach by modeling it (and frequently watching it evolve); teaching collaborative problem-solving by creating a situation where it happens. The way I behave as teacher is consistent with behavior I want in my students' repertoire. I learn things. More often than not, I leave class drained, but excited.

Running a class this way feels no more forced than my seminars used to be, when I tried to run the discussion, muzzle the talkers, encourage the wall-flowers, and make sure the right things were said (by me if no one else). My job is to ask the right questions. This means that I can't get away with an outline of topics I want to cover. I have to actually anticipate how the discussion itself will run, and articulate questions that lead in the directions I want. If I misjudge, I have to be able to redirect discussion with well-placed questions or restatements. I need to know what the "take-home" points are, and to be prepared to reinforce them or make them in my turn, as part of the evolving discussion.

The format does not work as well for me on days when I'm a know-it-all and jump in to give "right" answers. Fortunately, the process itself works well enough that I feel silly, and students treat my intrusion as they would anyone else's. I also suspect that there is a limit on how big a class you can use it in without everybody getting bored. I have both participated in and facilitated use of the technique in dispute resolution with groups of up to 35; it can get tiresome at that scale. It works splendidly with 15 students in a seminar.

Trying this kind of process required me to give up certain assumptions about my role as teacher - particularly that I not only knew more, but knew better. It required trust in the capabilities of my students and intellectual honesty of a fundamental sort. Students have consistently and powerfully responded to that trust.

I have learned that, when people try to listen with respect, they can put their own assumptions on hold. They tend to hear, and understand, what is being said. When they understand, they tend to develop trust in the capabilities and insights of others. When they trust, they are open to learning themselves. As they learn, they reorganize information, grow, and change.

Maybe it is magic.