Deliberative Citizenship Initiative

Building Democracy One Conversation at a Time

Mary Blackstock

What High School Students Taught Me About Deliberation

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Promotional graphic for the DCI Fellow Blog Series post titled "What High School Students Taught Me About Deliberation" by Mary Molloy Blackstock '26.

By Mary Molloy Blackstock ‘26 (DCI Fellow)

When I received my Spring 2026 D-Team assignments, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. I had spent two summers working as a camp counselor, so I knew firsthand how complex and unpredictable working with 14, 15, and 16 year olds can be. 

Until recently, DCI’s work had focused primarily on Davidson students and members of the broader Davidson community. This spring, we decided to host a series of meetings with a group of local high school students. Bringing high schoolers into the process introduced a new dynamic entirely. There are logistical differences, of course, because we don’t record meetings when minors are involved, and the groups themselves are more contained, typically including only the students and one of their teachers. Beyond those structural changes, though, there was a deeper shift in how conversations unfolded.

I’ll admit that I had my doubts going in. I wasn’t concerned about the students themselves, but I was a little concerned about how the deliberations would compare. D Teams are usually formed to maximize the diversity of experiences in the room. They often include students, alumni, faculty, and community members in an attempt to include people who can bring different perspectives to the table. High school students, by comparison, have had less time to accumulate knowledge or lived experience. It’s easy to assume that this might limit the depth of conversation.

As I quickly realized, that assumption was very wrong. In fact, my high school D Team has been the most enriching group I’ve worked with so far. What struck me most was, more than just what they contributed, how they contributed. They exhibited a willingness to engage openly and without hesitation that changed the entire tone of the deliberation.

It made me reflect on something uncomfortable: as we get older, we tend to become more cautious in how we participate. We like to think that we’re open-minded, that we’re willing to learn and engage. To some extent, that’s true. But there’s a difference between being willing to listen and being willing to speak, especially when we’re unsure.

As a political science major, I often feel like I should have something particularly insightful or informed to say about the topics we discuss. At 21, though, I’m still very much learning. The problem is that I sometimes hesitate instead of just embracing that reality. I’m not the only one; I’ve seen the same pattern play out in classrooms and D Team meetings again and again. People hold back because they’re afraid of being wrong.

It’s an understandable instinct. No one wants to say something inaccurate or come across as ignorant. When that fear becomes the dominant force in a conversation, though, it limits participation. Even when people do speak, that hesitation lingers, shaping what they say and how they say it. The result is a kind of passive engagement where participants are present but not fully invested.

The high school students approached things differently. They didn’t filter every thought through a lens of potential error, they just jumped into the conversation feet first. They asked questions, shared opinions, challenged each other, and built on ideas in real time. Were all of their contributions perfectly accurate or deeply informed? Probably not, but that wasn’t the point.

What mattered was that they were actively participating in the process of deliberation, and because of that, the conversation felt alive in a way that many others don’t. Ironically, I left that session with more to think about than I have after many deliberations with older, more experienced participants. What made the difference was that the students were more willing to explore what they didn’t know.

That experience has made me reconsider what effective participation really looks like. Listening is essential, of course, but deliberation requires more than just listening. It requires a willingness to contribute, even when your thoughts are still forming.

So the next time you find yourself in a classroom, a meeting, or even a casual conversation, take a moment to reflect on how you’re engaging. Are you holding back because you’re unsure? Are you waiting until you feel “qualified” to speak?

Next time, try to accept the possibility of being wrong, and then choose to participate anyway. If there’s one thing those students reminded me, it’s that meaningful conversation isn’t about having all the right answers, it’s about being willing to enter the discussion in the first place. 

Face to Face: Rediscovering Our Shared Humanity Through In-Person Deliberation

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By Mary Molloy Blackstock ’26 (DCI Fellow)

We live in an age where the majority of communication no longer happens face to face. When we relegate important conversations to online platforms, eliminating all elements of nonverbal communication, something essential is lost. Without tone, body language, or eye contact, our words quickly become harsher, our empathy minimized.

Earlier this semester, I served as a facilitator for a DCI D Team centered on immigration policy. I was nervous, anticipating the deliberation would mirror the unproductive, unyielding, and sometimes cruel discourse I had seen online. Instead, I was struck by how easily the participants found common ground.

During the reflection portion, one of the participants raised the question of online vs in-person political conversation. Another brought up Yik Yak, an anonymous posting platform used on Davidson’s campus. While often discussed, it’s hard to grasp just how polarizing interactions become when you strip away names, or even just faces.

Would these same D Team participants, who come from different backgrounds and lived realities, have found commonalities if the same deliberation had taken place on Yik Yak? Instagram? Facebook? If you’ve ever looked at a comment section on any of these platforms, you’ll come to the conclusion that it’s very unlikely.

In deliberation, disagreement still arises. Oftentimes, though, it only comes after a foundation of shared understanding has been laid, whether that’s through a mutual interest in Marie Antoinette (true story) or something deeper, like a shared concern for the future of your community. That order of common ground first, disagreement second makes all the difference. When we begin by recognizing what brings us together, we’re able to approach what divides us in a much more graceful and constructive manner.

We all hold opinions that depart from the mainstream, but we also all hold others that conform to it. Remembering that balance can be a powerful place to start.

Ultimately, deliberation is important because it reminds us of our shared humanity. At the beginning of each D Team session, we review the DCI’s ten key deliberative dispositions: values like empathy, respect, and open-mindedness, to name just a few. Each serves as a reminder of what makes genuine, productive deliberation possible. Online, disagreement and cruelty often come naturally. But when you’re looking into someone’s eyes as you speak, empathy and open-mindedness come far more easily.

Participating in intentional, structured deliberation reveals that in person, it’s often much harder to find points of conflict than it is to find shared ground.

In a time when public discourse so often feels fractured and impossible, deliberation serves as a much-needed model for how things could be different. Deliberation reveals that when people are given a space to listen and be listened to, the divides that seem insurmountable online can still be bridged.

When you’re staring at a screen, it’s easy to forget that there’s a person just like you on the other side. Across a table, it’s impossible to ignore.