Big words, small ideas

It's happened to all of us. It's precept time, you're intimidated and you think you've got something to say when your turn comes along. Or you hope so. Your classmates give their various opinions, and you nod precisely at the right times. You make eye contact with the preceptor at strategic moments to show that you are, in fact, paying attention. Then you start looking around the room, taking note of who has already spoken and noticing that only a few of you have yet to make a sound. So what do you do? Just wait, right? You're sure that something's going to come up that you can say something about, right? Even if it's a simple, "I agree with blah blah blah," you will have said something. But then the number of non-speakers starts to dwindle as the others start jumping in and agreeing with insignificant things that others have said. We all know that disagreeing is much more complicated because that requires an actual explanation, whereas agreeing just requires some fancy language to say exactly what somebody else just said.

Uh oh. There are five minutes left in the precept. You're starting to feel the pressure to get something out, quick, to show everyone, but especially the preceptor who's grading you, that: Yes, you did do the reading; yes, you do have a functioning brain that can form thoughts in your head; and yes, you realize that participation matters. So, you eagerly wait for someone to pause long enough for you to make a sound and take the floor, but no! That's not fair. He interrupted what she was saying. Now you'll never get a chance. And now there's only a minute left. The preceptor has basically ended the discussion. "Anything else?" she asks. You don't want to feel like an idiot and say something now. It's over. You lost your chance. You're the silent one, and there is nothing you can do about it. If you suddenly start speaking excessively the next week, there will be one of two assumptions: 1. You didn't read the week before (not good); or 2. You're scared of failing precept, so you're going to say something, anything, to "sound" smart (also not good). So you shake your head in the negative, feeling like a complete failure. Precept is over, and you didn't even get a word in.

Whether you're the quiet one in precept who goes through this all the time, or one of the many who gets their voice heard at least once per minute, it's important to understand the anxiety and pressure that precept puts on all of us. In precepts where active participation is required, there is an immense surge of "smart talk." Preceptors, for the most part, seem to approve of the use of complex sentences full of multisyllabic words that nobody else in the class really understands, including the speaker, perhaps. There are those students who combine multiple "-izations" and "-ologies" in one sentence. But does this mean that the rest of us do not have opinions or knowledge? Does this mean that we didn't read or that we must not have understood the reading well enough to discuss it? Are we clearly inferior to the big shots in the class? Absolutely not.

We are all here to learn, to become more intellectual, but when some classmates consistently lead discussion and consistently use big words and complex sentences to convey simple ideas, it's discouraging. Isn't the point of precept to go over lecture material and reading and make sure everybody understands it? Don't confuse us even more with your "tautologies" and "dichotomies" and "operationalizations of conceptualizations." Why say "tautology" when you can say "repetition"? We all know what that means. Or instead of "dichotomy," how about just "divide"? That's probably what you mean anyway. It's just not necessary, and it sure doesn't give the greatest impression of your intelligence when you use big words to say small ideas.

After constant exposure to such "smart talk," it isn't unthinkable that some of it should rub off on the quiet ones. Even if it doesn't show through in our speech, it can creep its way into our writing, causing us to write "utilize" instead of "use" or write sentences that are four lines long with seven commas, three prepositions and no point at all. This just isn't healthy. We're all very smart people, yet sadly, we feel the need to prove it to each other by battling each other with complex grammatical structures and ideas that are beyond abstract. And I don't like it. Instead, I propose that we all try to speak naturally and write naturally. Things will be a whole lot easier, for you and for me. Angela Bardes is a sophomore from Lake Como, N.J. She can be reached at abardes@princeton.edu.