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.
