I thought I was ready for my first Atlantic World class my freshman fall. I had done all the readings, taken notes, and carefully mapped out the major arguments. But within minutes of the professor’s opening question, I realized I wasn’t prepared for this environment. Hands shot up before I even had time to process my thoughts. The discussion escalated rapidly, voices overlapping, arguments bouncing off each other. I sat frozen, trying to form the right words in my head, only to find that, by the time I was ready, the class had already moved on. That day, I learned a hard truth: silence in an American classroom is not neutral—it’s penalized.
For international students like myself, the expectation of constant verbal participation in an American university can be overwhelming. I grew up in Uganda with an Ethiopian background, speaking Amharic at home. My education was shaped by the International Baccalaureate curriculum, where depth of analysis and structured writing were valued far more than spontaneous discussion. Georgetown’s approach is the opposite—a high-energy environment where participation isn’t just encouraged, but actively graded. The transition was more than a cultural shift; it was a test of my linguistic agility, self-confidence, and ability to think in a second language under pressure.
Even when I knew I had something valuable to contribute, my hesitation often held me back. The fear wasn’t just about speaking, it was about how I spoke. Would my phrasing sound off? Would I stumble over my words? Would my contributions sound as sharp and confident as my American classmates’? In a classroom where speed and assertiveness were rewarded, I often felt like I was a step behind.
This struggle is not unique to me. Many international students at Georgetown experience the same culture shock in the classroom. Federico Logroscino, MSB ‘27, an Italian student at the McDonough School of Business, faced a similar challenge. Back home, classroom discussions were rare—students were not expected to speak unless directly called on, and professors preferred to lecture uninterrupted. At Georgetown, Federico found a completely different dynamic, where quick exchanges and spontaneous responses, rather than carefully formulated thoughts, were rewarded. For him and many others, the challenge wasn’t just speaking English—it was keeping up with the pace of discussion.
“Sometimes I have a thought, but by the time I translate it and make sure it sounds right, someone else has already said it,” he said.
Consequently, it creates a feeling in classes that participation grades weren’t always a reflection of knowledge or engagement but rather of how quickly someone could articulate their thoughts in English.
Vanja Asberg Montgomery, CAS ‘26, an international student from Sweden who came to Georgetown to study Economics and Computer Science, echoed this feeling. She described how, even when she was confident in her understanding of the material, she hesitated before speaking, wanting to ensure that what she said was grammatically correct.
“There is a universal language in terms of the way you are supposed to speak in class that you sort of learn over time,” she noted. “I was surprised as a result of it.”
For students like Vanja, participating in class discussions is not just about knowing the content—it’s about navigating an unspoken standard of communication. The pressure to phrase thoughts perfectly can make speaking up feel daunting for students who speak English as a second language, even when they have valuable insights to share. But this challenge extends beyond international students. Those who are naturally shy, experience anxiety, or come from educational backgrounds with less emphasis on discussion-based learning can also struggle to keep pace in fast-moving conversations.
For many, the ability to contribute is not just about having something meaningful to say but about overcoming the fear that any hesitation or misstep, whether a linguistic uncertainty or simply a moment of self-doubt, will shape how they are perceived. In contrast, students more accustomed to this style of learning often engage more instinctively, prioritizing idea-sharing over precision. Students more accustomed to this style of learning often engage instinctively, as their education values open dialogue and spontaneous contribution. When participation is framed as a test of verbal agility rather than thoughtful engagement, it risks rewarding confidence over substance, making speaking up feel like a performance rather than an exchange of ideas.
Interestingly, this culture shock works both ways. When an American student I spoke to studied abroad in Sydney, they found themselves experiencing the inverse of this discomfort. Used to discussion-heavy classrooms, they initially found the silence in their Australian lectures unsettling.
The student described their experience saying, “at first, I thought it was weird, but after a while, I actually kind of liked it—I felt like I had more time to absorb the material before having to form an opinion on it.”
Yet when they returned to Georgetown, they underwent another adjustment period—while they appreciated the confidence and critical thinking skills they had gained abroad, they also found that the fast-paced discussions they had once taken for granted now felt rushed, even unnecessary at times. Their experience brought about an important realization: the American emphasis on verbal participation is not inherently superior—just different. Yet Georgetown’s grading system often treats it as the only valid model of engagement.
The issue is not that discussion-based learning is flawed—it’s that it often fails to accommodate students from diverse educational backgrounds. This pressure doesn’t stop at participation grades—it can also affect how international students engage with professors during office hours or collaborate with peers in study groups, where similar expectations around fluency and confidence persist. These settings, which are meant to support learning, can instead become additional sites of anxiety, reinforcing the feeling that thoughtful engagement must always be immediate and polished. Instead of forcing all students into the same verbal participation model, Georgetown should expand its definition of engagement with course material to be more inclusive.
Some professors already make an effort to incorporate alternative participation methods, such as written reflections, online discussion boards, or smaller breakout groups. These approaches allow students, especially those thinking in a second language, to contribute meaningfully without the pressure of keeping up with rapid-fire debates. However, these practices should be more widely encouraged at an institutional level, rather than being left to individual instructors.
The university could provide faculty with guidelines or best practices for more inclusive participation, ensuring that grading policies prioritize depth and quality of engagement rather than simply frequency of contributions. After all, a student who speaks multiple times with surface-level comments should not automatically receive a higher participation grade than one who speaks less often but offers deeper, more thoughtful insights. A shift toward assessing participation in a way that values meaningful contributions would create a more equitable and intellectually rigorous classroom environment.
Another simple yet effective change would be integrating brief pauses into classroom discussions. Even a 30-second reflection period before opening the floor to responses could make a significant difference for students who need just a little more time to formulate their thoughts. Rather than rewarding the fastest speaker, this would create space for more thoughtful, deliberate contributions.
Professors play a key role in fostering an inclusive classroom environment, but students also share in that responsibility. Many students are simply unaware of how different the classroom experience is for their international peers. Those who are naturally more comfortable speaking in class should be encouraged to recognize when others haven’t had a chance to contribute. This isn’t about forced silence or awkward pauses but about developing an awareness of who has spoken and who might need an extra moment to process before jumping in.
At its core, this issue raises a fundamental question: how should participation in the classroom be defined and measured? If the goal of discussion is to engage students in meaningful dialogue, then we must recognize that engagement manifests in multiple ways. The ability to think critically, analyze deeply, and contribute thoughtfully should matter more than the ability to speak quickly. For international students, classroom participation should not feel like a test of linguistic reflexes. Instead, it should be an opportunity to learn and share perspectives without the fear that silence will be misinterpreted as disengagement. If Georgetown genuinely values the diversity of its student body, it must foster an environment where all students have an equitable opportunity to be heard.
