Say something in a puzzled tone of voice

In the early 1990s, I was giving a workshop for MA students at Columbia University, most of whom were practicing Japanese high school teachers of English. The worksheet I handed out contained a wide range of activities. One section offered five instructions, each followed by a blank line. The first four items clearly required a written answer. The fifth item also had a blank line, but the instruction read, “Say something in a puzzled tone of voice.”

As I had anticipated, it wasn’t long before one of the students approached me at the front of the room, worksheet in hand. Perhaps he wanted to avoid embarrassing himself in front of others, or perhaps he feared embarrassing me by pointing out what he assumed was a mistake on my part. With evident puzzlement in his voice, he asked how he was supposed to respond to this instruction.

What he was not aware of was that he was already speaking in a puzzled tone of voice. Nor did he notice the irony of asking the question while enacting its answer. Unconsciously locked into a “following mindset,” he trusted that I, as the teacher, should rescue him from his confusion with an authoritative explanation. After all, he must have thought, he was showing me that he was making a sincere effort.