On Putting Students To Sleep: A Classroom Policy Proposal
This article is not about the euthanizing of undergrads, although many of my students would probably consider this to be the “humane” thing to do to them during my lectures. Although I know that I sometimes bore my students, it’s still disappointing to see them glancing at the clock or even tapping their watches – as if to see if my lecture has actually succeeded in stopping the flow of time.
One of the dilemmas all professors occasionally face in the classroom is what to do about sleeping students. Should we ignore them and let them snooze away? Or should we awaken them? If we do nothing:
<> Sleepiness can be contagious, and who wants their entire class looking like the victims of a nerve gas attack?
<> It can escalate into the sleeper snoring and perhaps even talking aloud. So far none of my lectures has induced somnambulation although if they were to do so I know the direction the sleepwalker would be headed.
<> In this litigious age, doing nothing could even lead to lawsuits, perhaps giving a whole new meaning to the term “class-action suit.” I’m not referring only to those much-publicized cases where a student has sued because after four years of college he or she is illiterate. I’m worried about the dozing student whose head jerks perilously backward, inviting a whiplash claim. Or what about the sleeper whose head lurches forward, colliding with the hard desk surface. Perhaps it’s time for universities to give serious consideration to installing airbags in classrooms. (I kind of like the irony here: windbags setting off airbags…)
In light of the serious consequences of the do-nothing option, some might argue that rousing the sleeping student is the only appropriate course of action. But here also are difficulties:
<> Since the sleeper is often a considerable distance away, a request for a nudge or a poke might have to be made of a nearby student. However, what if a student declines to do so? (“You put him to sleep. You wake him up!”)
<> One of my senior colleagues used to hurl an eraser toward the sleeper, but his aim wasn’t so good and other students in the vicinity often took the hit. And what if the student still doesn’t wake up after being struck with the eraser? What does that say for my lecture?
<> Finally, the sleeping student may resent being awakened! Once, after having been pulled from what seemed to be a coma, a somewhat irritated student informed me after class that he had had a very late night, and had been trying to catch up on his rest.
So what, then, are professors to do in such situations? While attending a professional convention not too long ago, I hit upon a possible solution. Before checking out of my hotel, I asked the maid if I could take along a couple of those “Do Not Disturb” signs that hang on doorknobs. During the next class, I warned my students they might find the lecture unusually soporific and explained to them my “to wake or not to wake” dilemma. I then invited them to pick up one of the signs. If sleep appeared imminent, those who did not wish to be roused could simply hang a “Do Not Disturb” sign on their shirt or sweater button. It would be a clear signal that they wished to be allowed to, well, “rest in peace.”
The idea has so far met with resounding success. In fact, there have been so many student requests for doorknob signs that I’ve had to attend far more professional meetings than ever before, much to the chagrin of my department chairman. Some of my students have been known to walk off with the signs, maybe finding that the signs are respected in other lectures as well. There is also an additional pedagogical benefit stemming from the fact that the “Do Not Disturb” signs are usually written in several languages:
<> “No moleste”
<> “Priere de ne pas deranger”
<> “Bitte nicht storen”
This means that, even though electing to slumber through a lecture, a student can still be honing his or her foreign language skills. In fact, the only drawback I have experienced so far is that sometimes students mistakenly fasten the wrong side of the sign to their shirts or sweaters. The result is that I occasionally spot a “Maid – Please Clean Room” request staring at me in the lecture hall. So far, none of the university’s janitorial staff has responded to the requests, but maybe my lectures have affected them also.
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