Anatomy of asking a question

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I started my first grad school class this week, and it looks to be a good one. Two lectures a week, a ton of reading, and an hour recitation where we discuss the papers we've read. We're graded on participation, which is pretty much my only incentive not to sit anonymously in the back of the room and doodle. The easiest way to participate in class, besides coming up with amazing insights into the material is to simply ask questions. (Or a question. Let's not get too carried away.)

All of us have had some form of the phrase "There's no such thing as a stupid question" drilled into our heads from a very young age. (Alt: "The only stupid question is the one not asked.") The problem is, in the circle of our peers, there in fact is such thing as a stupid question. But there also isn't. Ok, let's back up for a second. Is there such thing as a stupid question?

Answer: To the people that matter, no. 

If you have just heard something that you don't understand, and you need clarification to understand it, and you ask for clarification, clarification is given, then that was a perfectly acceptable use of a question. 

Caveat: To other people, (hereby known as jerks) yes, there is such thing as a stupid question.

I hesitate to even mention this here, because other people's opinions don't matter, yadda yadda yadda, except in what realm of the universe is this true? (Rhetorical question--and obviously not mine.)

I think we can all pull up some anecdotal evidence of being in a class where someone asks a question the most everyone else in the class already knows, and there's some form of eye-rolling (if you're lucky) or snickering (if you're not) from the back of the class. (My eye roll this week came from someone asking the definition of "-ploidy" in an upper level genetics class. But again, the person that asked the question got their answer, therefore, not a stupid question.) And like most unfortunate things, they are almost always hilarious except when they happen to us. 

Here's what happened to me yesterday.

I asked a question about primer binding specificity and the introduction of bias in the 4C technique of chromosome conformation capture. Follow up question how are they relating sequence read depth to frequency of what's actually happening in the cell. (If you're really interested, we were discussing this paper by Zuan et al.)

Two things went wrong. 

1) I tend to garble my words sometimes when I ask questions in public places like classes or seminar. I just get nervous or something, so instead of saying something calm and relatively straight forward, what came out of my mouth was more like, "Ermmm sequencing bias primers...." And then I sort of trail off expecting someone to finish my thought because right? You know? 

2) This know it all in the row behind me really nice girl sitting behind me because I don't arbitrarily judge people based on whether or not they are very rude immediately interrupts me (to be fair I had sort of trailed off, see above) to say that my question is just wrong because of the restriction digest sites and something else completely unrelated to my question. 

And then the conversation ended. 

Which brings me to the anatomy of asking a question. 

There are two parts to asking a question.

The first is actually asking your question.

Coming up with a question

This may seem kind of silly, but the first thing you need to do is to pay attention enough to know what's going on, so you can ask a question. 

If you've been doing that, congratulations! You're caffeinated! The next step is coming up with a question. This could be something as "simple" as you don't understand an axis label on a figure, or if you don't understand the way someone is using a word, or a technique, or why they chose those controls, etc. If you can do that, congratulations, you've been really paying attention. 

Finally, and this is where I always  get stuck. You have to actually ask your question. You can't just think about your question, you can't just second guess your question (also known as "questioning your question"--this is a very deep and unprofitable wormhole that can only lead to paralyzing insecurity--let's try to avoid this), you have to actually ask your question. If you're me, you will give yourself a pep talk that sounds like this: Okay rachael, deep breaths, slow your roll, enunciate, and make sure your words come out in the right order.

(Also if you are a normal person and have no problems asking questions, feel free to ignore all of this advice, and haha--I don't really need it either I'm just kidding around because who me? I'm not neurotic at all.)

If you get your question out, and for goodness sakes, don't tail off at the end like I do, and don't assume that other people know what you're talking about--also be clear and concise and there are no stupid questions but 90% of the time no one likes extraneous information in questions--it's not over yet.

I think this is what a lot of people forget, and this is definitely what I forgot in my class yesterday, the second part of asking a question is making sure that your question gets answered. 

I wish I could bold this and stress this so much, because I think while this isn't a problem for seasoned professor that Knows What They Are Talking About, I think it can be a problem for a student that Isn't So Sure About What They Are Asking Thus The Whole Reason For Why They Are Asking it. 

Making sure your question is answered!

The thing that you have to remember is that it's no ones job but your own to make sure your question gets answered. Your question is your baby. No one is going to advocate for it for you. There probably isn't anyone else in your class (unless you're lucky!--more on that later) looking out for you. So here's what you have to do.

You have to listen to the answer. Duh, but this is basic Respect 101 for the person you're asking. But it also can help you. If they misunderstood your question, now is the time to gently put them back on the right direction. In my opinion, you usually get one chance to do this, and you're allowed to do this out loud--it's for everyone's benefit, your own, as well as the audience and the person answering. 

If they still don't answer your question, (and even if they do, but not satisfactorily, or if they do and you have more exciting questions), form follow up questions! But write them down so you don't forget, and I would suggest waiting until after the talk/class in order to ask them. Unless no one else is asking questions, and yours seem like good ones. In which case, go for it. 

Yesterday I pretty much forgot the whole second part of asking a question. I didn't feel confident enough in my question to rephrase, or verbalize why the girl behind me's answer was insufficient and also not related to my question at all, and the TAs weren't about to defend my question either. That was all on me. And this I think is a flaw of classroom discussions. You have to remember that not everyone that sounds like they know what they're talking about actually knows what they're talking about.

Which begs the question (ha!) in the classroom/grad school setting, which is better, misplaced over-confidence, or paralyzing insecurity?

It's a trick question--you really shouldn't ever choose one or the other. The answer is both, and I think the point is to try to live (and ask questions) with an open a mind as possible. 

Last part of my story:

I actually went back to lab feeling kind of shitty about myself after this girl responded to my question so rudely. And I spend the next few hours feeling like maybe I can't hack grad school and why is everyone smarter than meeeeee? But then I (luckily!) saw a guy from class later that evening, and he said that they thought that girl totally missed my point in class, and he had some of the same questions too, and he had wanted to rudely respond to her in class, but then didn't want to be the dude that starts some crazy loud discussion in class. 

Moral of the story--Ask your questions. Advocate for your questions. There are jerks in life. Don't let the jerks keep you from asking questions. And stop calling people jerks. It's not nice.